THE STORY – As supervisor Horn is welcoming his partner Léone into the hut he shares with engineer Cal, a man called Alboury appears outside. He is determined to stay there until they return the body of his brother to him, who was killed on the site.
THE CAST – Isaach De Bankolé, Matt Dillon, Mia McKenna-Bruce, Tom Blyth & Brian Begnan
THE TEAM – Claire Denis (Director/Writer), Suzanne Lindon & Andrew Litvack (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
In 1982, French playwright Bernard-Marie Koltès unleashed his cryptic post-colonial play “Black Battles with Dogs” onto the world. The ambiguous text follows a Black man seeking the corpse of his dead brother at an African construction site run by white landowners. Over the span of a night, conversations and uncomfortable silences dictate the rhythm of the political dramaturgy, as Koltès’s narrative unravels within his protagonists’ ambiguous motives and internalized desires. With its evident queer subtext dictating the play’s thematic observations, Koltès simultaneously balances observations on colonial identity within his piece. The ambitious theatre production was well-received, catching the attention of cineaste Claire Denis. The renegade playwright and up-and-coming filmmaker were friends amidst the bustling Parisian arts scene.
A year after Denis competed for the Palme d’or with her debut “Chocolat,” Koltès passed away from AIDS complications. Before his untimely death, they discussed the possibility of adapting “Black Battles with Dogs” into a filmic piece. The project was subsequently abandoned after his death. It wasn’t until recently when Denis decided to revisit her friend’s iconoclastic text. On paper, the combination of Koltès’ perplexing subject matter with Denis’ confrontational direction seemed like a perfect match in heaven. After more than sixteen features since the theatrical release of her critically-lauded “Chocolat,” Denis’ decision to return to her old friend’s work isn’t a surprising artistic detour.
Even less surprising for fans of Denis’ filmography, “The Fence” isn’t her first rodeo in terms of exploring themes of capitalism and colonial identity. “Beau Travail,” “White Material,” and “Stars at Noon” brilliantly deconstruct their protagonist’s Caucasian privilege through their opportunistic morals and economic entitlement. As the political landscape gently disintegrates in the background of her characters’ shifting worlds, the more we learn about her protagonists’ materialistic ambitions. “The Fence,” more or less, reiterates Denis’ auteurist fascinations. With her film adaptation, Denis faithfully adapts the structure of Koltès’ nocturnal text.
For the first time in her career, Denis shot “The Fence” in chronological order during the three month Senegalese shoot. Indebted to the traditions of Koltès’ artistic practice, “The Fence” occasionally leans heavily on the mechanics of live theatre. While Denis’ formalism immaculately captures the anguish, expressiveness, and selfishness of her cast’s performances through handheld close-ups, the film’s coverage-dependent methodology fails to make use of its alluring location. “The Fence’s” lack of soundtrack is replaced by diegetic soundscapes, emulating the uncanny emptiness of a vast stage. While its sonic-scape aptly reconfigures the mechanics of theatre into ardent cinema, Denis’ accompanying visuals unremarkably capture her dialogue-driven pandemonium.
Anchored by the determined work from the film’s quartet of impressive actors, Isaach de Bankolé’s calm and calculated performance provides “The Fence’s” humanitarian touch. His limited dialogue is enhanced by his cool demeanor, contrasting the apathetic veneer of the white cast. Denis accentuates the divide between the oppressed and the oppressor through Judy Shrewsbury, Olivier Beriot, and Khady Ngon’s St. Laurent-sponsored attire. The careless appearance of the white protagonists effectively speaks volumes against Bankole’s magnetic stage presence and mourning wardrobe. Unfortunately, the emotional gravitas of the performances are undone by the film’s half-baked screenplay.
The narrative falters with its repetitive conflicts that contradict the urgency of its own text. Denis is ultimately working on autopilot with her characterizations. The obviousness of her political commentary reduces her antagonists into materialistic archetypes. The film fails to subvert its derivative formula by attempting to cover her character’s origins and social depravity. The brief psychosexual subplots haphazardly unveil her characters’ sexualities without much of an overarching payoff and the overwritten dialogue directly tells the film’s audience about her characters’ obliviousness to empathy. While the queer subtext undeniably provides a deeper understanding of her characters’ repressed desires, the greater colonial picture fails to establish clear connections that unite the diverse themes.
As a result, the muddled mirage of compelling ideas are lost within Denis’ underwhelming chronology of events. The uneven screen-treatment of Bernard-Marie Koltès’ “Black Battles with Dogs” fails to surprise fans familiar with Denis’ work. “The Fence” doesn’t provide any new observations or insights on colonial identity. As a chamber piece, the film’s directorial vision feels significantly more restrained, predominantly due to its single location foundation. As a result, the aimlessness of its predictable narrative is dependent on its flimsy dialogue over visual storytelling. Denis’ directorial prowess stems from her immaculate compositions, an iconic aspect of her oeuvre that’s diluted by her overt reliance on Koltès’ dialogue-dependent source material.
