Melissa Leo is the eponymous anti-hero in this disarming look at North America’s dispossessed.
Written by Georgie Hobbs
Francine’s first shot shows Leo stark naked, showering in prison. It’s her last day in detention before she’s released back into the world. It’s a staggeringly brave image – in a film which offers a series of arresting, unexpected images – and one that most actresses over 50 wouldn’t consider, especially those coming off an Oscar high. Like that shower shot of Carey Mulligan in Shame, we’re shown what award-winning actresses tend to hide; slouchy paunch, ratty (body) hair, slumped shoulders.
We then follow a wordless Francine as she moves into a tiny bungalow overlooking a picturesque lake in the Hudson Valley. It’s not made clear what she did to get locked away, or how long was gone, just that she’s emerged a loner who only finds solace in animals. (And, in one not entirely convincing scene, in a heavy metal band playing in a parking lot, which moves her to tears as she moshes).
With no family and no money, she half-assedly tries to assimilate into her rural community by getting a job. She finds one at a strip mall-style pet shop. But, disinterested in the customers – she spends longer defrosting baby mice (snake food, presumably) than helping shoppers make purchases – she’s quickly fired. A recovering alcoholic neighbor then offers her a job at a local stable, but when he tries, very chivalrously, to date her, she quits. Next she works at a vet’s where she’s pretty much left alone to coo at anaesthetised animals; she loves it.
It’s in these veterinary scenes that husband-and-wife team Brian M. Cassidy and Melanie Shatzky, who previously made documentaries, really show their flair. Filmed in real time, and using a real vet and real cat, we watch it get injected and shaved in preparation for spaying. The scene made the audience at the Berlin Film Festival nervously giggle. With splayed limbs the limp cat looked hilariously awkward, but the crowd laughed I think as a guttural reaction to a sight that most people have never before seen. Blown up on a huge cinema screen, the helpless cat, a victim of someone else’s desire to castrate it, served as an apt metaphor for Francine’s listless, wordless but overly caring character. There follows another surreal scene where Francine lifts (real) dead dogs into (again, a real) incinerator. It might sound like it, but no animals were harmed in the making of this movie…the film-makers liaised with local vets to use pets that were genuinely undergoing procedures.
There’s plenty more weirdness locked up in Francine’s 73-minute run-time; for one, there’s her bungalow and first home since she left prison. What started off as a few pets descends into a living zoo. Forgoing bowls and trays, Francine simply scatters pet food into the floor and furniture. Her own bed is just a stripped mattress – it’s more likely she sleeps on the floor, among the food and poop, with her pets. She just cannot connect with people and doesn’t really see why she should, even if she could.
Obviously, Francine won’t be for everyone. It’s an inexpensive first feature made on low-spec cameras and using a sparse 10-page script (additional dialogue was filled by adlibbing actors and locals). But, if you like the underdog aesthetic and dirty realism of auteurs like Kelly Reichardt or Romania’s Cristian Mungiu then, chances are, you’ll appreciate Francine. Whatever your take on this emerging genre though, no one could fault Leo’s performance, her commitment to independent cinema nor her empathetic portrayals of the dispossessed and ignored. As yet, Francine has no UK distribution but is making the rounds on the festival circuit.
[Rating:3/5]
