Shot on 16mm film in the picturesque Morvan region of central France, Astrakan seems to offer an idyllic location for a coming-of-age film. Yet director David Depesseville, who comes from Morvan, bathes his first feature film in a stark beauty that camouflages the adolescent hell of his young protagonist. With a title that comes from the wool made from black lambs, this enigmatic narrative has an air of sacrifice, visualized with an economical realism yet ending with a 10-minute sequence that almost seems like a religious vision, leading a troubled boy from the torment of demons to a profound baptism.
The central figure is Samuel (Mirko Giannini), who’s struggling to fit in with his new family. He steals, lies, has bathroom issues and is generally troubled. Marie (Jehnny Beth) is a more sympathetic foster parent, but even she admits that she’s taken in an orphan (in addition to their two boys) because of the subsidy it brings. Meanwhile, the father Clement (Bastien Bouillon) does not believe in sparing the rod, and worse, Marie’s creepy-eyed brother Luc (Theo Costa-Marini) is abusing the oldest boy.
Samuel finds some friendship with Helene (Lorine Delin), a slightly older girl who lives with her single father. While Samuel’s Catholic foster family entertains the kids with super-8 reels of Laurel and Hardy, Helene wants to show her neighbor her father’s porn collection. But clearly, she doesn’t seem to have Samuel’s best interests at heart, and neither does his foster family. What is a young boy to do?
Episodic at first, Astrakan follows Samuel’s trials with a gimlet eye, and Giannini is mostly a cipher, appropriately since nobody seems to understand him. But the landscape and film stock tell a lot of the story. The digital transfer leaves plenty of room for the film grain to breathe, and though the effect is subtle, there’s an intimacy to that analog look that can’t be achieved by digital means; older moviegoers, too, know that once upon a time, every movie used to look like this to some degree, and that natural look does a lot to open us up to the mystery. Furthermore, when cinematographer Simon Beaufils opens up his camera to the lush greenery that surrounds the boy, it looks like heaven. But even in this idealized setting, Samuel has to deal with a lot of inner turmoil. What does all that beauty mean to a boy who’s had such troubles in his life? On the other hand, that beauty, and the dancing around religion that happens here, seems to ask the question: isn’t there something bigger than this life?
Depesseville leaves much unsaid, and doesn’t try to make Samuel likeable—he’s gotten some bad breaks, but he’s still a brat! Yet the imagery is so quietly strong that it immerses you in Samuel’s strange perspective just enough to keep you watching. The viewer, too, has to try to reach out to this stunted boy. And as closed off as Samuel seems emotionally, he eventually opens up in a remarkable way. Astrakan can be a frustrating experience, and on some level may be unsatisfying; but you won’t soon forget it.
Photo courtesy of Altered Innocence
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