Films divide. They often take two simultaneous ideological stances on hot-button issues, operating like an essay, each scene a counterargument to the previous one. In his ruthless depictions of prostitution (House of Tolerance, 2011), terrorism (Nocturama, 2016), and now, colonialism (Zombi Child, 2019), Bonello has opened himself up to a huge amount of criticism, especially when he targets self-congratulatory liberalism.
Bonello's cinema is preoccupied with clashes of the past and present, the shock of the new jolting awake a complacent conservatism. His film House of Tolerance, about the day-to-day goings-on in a Paris bordello around 1900, ends with an abrasive cut to present-day Paris, as a sex worker solicits a client. It takes such a neutral eye to the awful on-screen events that critics labelled it misogynistic.
With his latest, Zombi Child, which is playing now on Mubi following its London Film Festival screenings, Bonello turns to race. As Haitian teenager Mélissa (Wislanda Louimat) adjusts to life in a Parisian boarding school, the legacy of her grandfather Clairvus Narcisse's past haunts her: he was a zombi in Haiti, drugged by slavers and forced to work on a plantation. The two storylines are presented in parallel, the talky Parisian scenes shot in a classicist French style with middle-distance shots, luxurious pans, and soft colours that suggest Giallo. It feels like the first act of a slasher film, where the biggest incidents are white school friend Fanny's (Louise Labeque) increasing, exoticised interest in Mélissa. Fanny believes Mélissa has some Voodoo tradition that can help her win back a lost love.
Throughout the film, this begins to link up more directly with a Haitian-set storyline, depicting the story of Clairvus Narcisse, who is a real historical figure. The historical Haitian-set scenes are presented in full genre style with POV shots and grotesque visuals; abstracted colours and discontinuous editing launch the viewer further into the terror of Clairvus's situation. The cross-cutting lurches between tones, which Bonello ties into one rhythm with his customary self-composed score, a pleasing riff on Carpenter or Vangelis that plunges the viewer into his mood.
I sat down with Bonello before he presented the film at the London Film Festival. We talked about his development of the ideas, his process with actors, and how he navigates subjects like colonialism.
Bonello's cinema is preoccupied with clashes of the past and present, the shock of the new jolting awake a complacent conservatism. His film House of Tolerance, about the day-to-day goings-on in a Paris bordello around 1900, ends with an abrasive cut to present-day Paris, as a sex worker solicits a client. It takes such a neutral eye to the awful on-screen events that critics labelled it misogynistic.
With his latest, Zombi Child, which is playing now on Mubi following its London Film Festival screenings, Bonello turns to race. As Haitian teenager Mélissa (Wislanda Louimat) adjusts to life in a Parisian boarding school, the legacy of her grandfather Clairvus Narcisse's past haunts her: he was a zombi in Haiti, drugged by slavers and forced to work on a plantation. The two storylines are presented in parallel, the talky Parisian scenes shot in a classicist French style with middle-distance shots, luxurious pans, and soft colours that suggest Giallo. It feels like the first act of a slasher film, where the biggest incidents are white school friend Fanny's (Louise Labeque) increasing, exoticised interest in Mélissa. Fanny believes Mélissa has some Voodoo tradition that can help her win back a lost love.
Throughout the film, this begins to link up more directly with a Haitian-set storyline, depicting the story of Clairvus Narcisse, who is a real historical figure. The historical Haitian-set scenes are presented in full genre style with POV shots and grotesque visuals; abstracted colours and discontinuous editing launch the viewer further into the terror of Clairvus's situation. The cross-cutting lurches between tones, which Bonello ties into one rhythm with his customary self-composed score, a pleasing riff on Carpenter or Vangelis that plunges the viewer into his mood.
I sat down with Bonello before he presented the film at the London Film Festival. We talked about his development of the ideas, his process with actors, and how he navigates subjects like colonialism.
