THE STORY – Ari, a 27-year-old trainee teacher, collapses during a visit from the school inspector. Angry with him for being a failure, Ari’s father throws him out of the house. Emotionally raw and alone in the city, Ari reluctantly forces himself to rekindle relationships with old friends. As memories of the past few months ebb and flow, Ari gradually realizes that other people are not doing as well as he imagined and that perhaps he has been sleepwalking through his own life.
THE CAST – Andranic Manet, Pascal Rénéric, Théo Delezenne, Ryad Ferrad & Eva Lallier Juan
THE TEAM – Léonor Serraille (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 88 Minutes
Premiering in competition at the 2025 Berlin Film Festival, this is the third feature from French writer-director Léonor Serraille, who previously made “Jeune Femme” (2017) and “Mother and Son” (2022). It is nominally similar to her debut, which followed a directionless young woman, though it lacks focus and fails to satisfy to the same degree.
The film gets off to a brilliant start – we’re introduced to 27-year-old trainee primary school teacher Ari (Andranic Manet) as he does a hilariously terrible job of attempting to read a poem to a class of very young children under the exasperated eye of an instructor. After getting sidetracked and mumbling about the poet’s opium addiction, Ari passes out, causing the children to casually ask, “Is he dead?” Unfortunately, the rest of the film never entirely lives up to that wonderful opening, which makes for an increasingly frustrating experience, as you’re constantly aware of how good the film could have been. Instead, we follow our eponymous protagonist as his father (Pascal Reneric) throws him out of the house (muttering, “Your generation are sick” as he does so), leaving Ari to reconnect with old friends and acquaintances, in the hopes of finding somewhere else to live.
Some of Ari’s encounters are a little confusing, to say the least. For example, a reunion with old school friend Jonas (Théo Delezenne) degenerates into an explosive, bitter argument about privilege and condescension. Yet, it ends with Jonas seemingly gifting Ari the use of his beachside property for as long as he wants. Gradually, it becomes clear that an incident in Ari’s past may hold the key to both his general mindset and his desire to be a schoolteacher (in another seemingly contradictory flashback scene, he’s shown having a natural ability to relate to young children, which was mysteriously absent in the opening scene). However, the meandering nature of the story keeps the emotional impact of that revelation at arm’s length. Part of the problem is that the lengthy dialogue scenes are largely improvised, which adds to the rambling nature of the film (there is no real plot, per se) and can occasionally feel self-indulgent. By the same token, it’s not always clear what Ari is supposed to be learning from each of his encounters. A degree of perspective, perhaps? Whatever the answer, he remains directionless throughout, so it’s hard to invest in his emotional journey.
In fairness, Andranic Manet (who shares a coincidental connection with his character, as there’s a flashback scene where his mother tells him he is named after a painter) delivers a sensitive and affecting performance as Ari, wearing a perpetually nervy expression that’s best described as “easily startled.” He’s also incredibly sweet in his brief interactions with the young children, lending credence to the suggestion that Ari is really just a big kid himself and perhaps emotionally unsuited to the wider world. In addition, there’s strong support from Reneric, and Delezenne is terrific in his caustic turn as Jonas (the film’s second-best sequence, after the opening) as well as an arresting turn from Clémence Coullon as Irène, Ari’s ex-girlfriend, who may or may not hold the key to his general malaise. Serraille’s direction adds considerably to the uneasy intensity of the film, as several of the scenes unfold in tight close-ups, courtesy of Sébastien Buchmann’s handheld cinematography. It’s just a shame that the lack of focus prevents any accompanying emotional connection.
Ultimately, “Ari” functions well as both a character study and a portrait of 21st-century anxiety, and it’s possible that younger audiences may get more out of it in that respect. However, the structure and storytelling remain frustratingly vague (one might even say wishy-washy), and the absence of any kind of resolution – either narratively or emotionally – proves too distancing to really satisfy.
