Rosetta

Sometimes you see a work of art and it knocks you out - it's all you can do for days and days to come to get it out of your mind. And you try to find a way in your mind to bring yourself closer to it, immerse yourself in it. You'll read everything about it that you can, try to find some more of the artist's work, find everything you can to do with it. All this to try and replicate the feeling that you experienced when you first encountered the piece. This is the effect that I've been trying to achieve since I saw Rosetta at 1999's London Film Festival.

Though some have attributed Rosetta's success at Cannes to the last-day syndrome; whereby the film that stays freshest in the panel's minds is the one that wins, it smacks of cavilling to suggest that this is the reason behind Rosetta's success - the simple fact is that it's a remarkable film which was only seriously rivalled this year by Almodovar's All About My Mother. Ignorance and snobbery have constantly been at work when Rosetta has been considered by critics, since it's a film which has divided the critics.

Top of the list of things-to-hate about Rosetta is the Dardennes' decision to shoot hand-held, an objection which I can understand but barely comprehend. Rosetta is a film which follows its heroine. Therefore, by mounting the camera almost on her shoulders, we see the world as she sees it, just as we see the world as she thinks it throughout the rest of the film. Most perfect is a scene when she is lying in bed at the house of Ricquet, her (only) friend, when she reassures herself that she's normal, she's found a friend, a *true* job and that she won't fall into the hole. Seldom is a more perfect and more touching marriage and explanation of the inner-self and its outer-conflicts achieved? - it's just magnificent cinema.

Rosetta is a fighter, but although her conflicts are with individuals, in a literal, physical sense, the metaphorical struggle is with the societal brick wall which she comes up against when trying to forge 'une vie normale' for herself. She's fighting against society for the right to live a life; she's fighting against society for a modicum of dignity. In this way, Rosetta is both existentialist and political, though never overtly, much to the credit of the Dardenne Brothers, since Rosetta is a 'universal' film.

The question which Rosetta poses is how we can release ourselves from the trouble we are in. Rosetta believes, and has been taught to believe (ironically, by society) that the way that she can achieve this dignity is by getting a 'true' job - so much so that she phones her boss to tell him that she won't be at work before her suicide attempt. She doesn't see that it's through Ricquet, not through having a job (his job) that she stands the best chance of forging a true identity, a true life and true dignity.

Rosetta is, in effect, just a proletarian hero, fighting society for the right to live and the right to work. However, to see the film in this way is reductionist in the extreme and is self-defeating. Rosetta is, above all, an individual. Her victory is to see that she has a friend who was there all along, and this gives us a remarkable ending that is full of drama; packs a considerable emotional punch and is unforgettable, thanks especially to a stunningly naturalistic performance by Emilie Dequenne, who won an award at Cannes for her portrayal of Rosetta. Her interpretation of the eponymous heroine lends so much to the film that she is as much responsible for the brilliance of the film as the directors are.

This film will never be a hit with middle-class and middle-class, middle-brow critics it in the same way that Schindler's List and The English Patient were; the bourgeoisie never want to get their hands dirty. It's their loss; Rosetta is quite simply one of the most wonderful films you'll ever see.