«The good intentions of a moderately good cinema

Cinema Wednesdays - Hélène Lavoyer

«But they're not doing anything wrong!
They don't do anything right either.»

Following the traditional long-winded adverts, more scripted than Nolan films, the screen finally goes black, its field of vision widening and announcing the start of the feature film's screening. Good intentions by Gilles Legrand (director of the touching Belle et Sébastien). Always exploring relationships, this work depicts the story of Isabelle, a French humanitarian, and her family.

This woman in her fifties has no other reason to live than the homeless people to whom she gives clothes—sometimes even her daughter’s, which she surreptitiously takes from her wardrobe without her daughter realizing it —and the immigrants to whom she teaches French. Well, actually, there is something else, something greater: the misery of the world. What drives Isabelle to take action and get involved is her desire to help all those in need.

To satisfy her obsession with justice and her need to ’help the most disadvantaged,« all her attention and energy are required, to the detriment of her children, who—despite their mother’s presence at home—do not feel close to her—or rather, feel that she is absent—from her husband and others, on whom she imposes her environmental and humanitarian ideals through lectures, restrictions, or by bringing immigrants into the home.

One day, Elke, a young German woman, arrives at the facility where Isabelle works, and Isabelle immediately sees her as a threat, and for good reason, since her own life is peppered with minor family dramas—she and her husband have started couples therapy after she called him «my little refugee» during a moment of passion—and stress related to her work with migrants.

From conflicts to unexpected events, from thwarted family plans to the driver’s license exam for which she prepares «her» immigrants by devoting herself body and soul to the task, Isabelle loses her footing and hurts the people she believes «need nothing»—yet they are the very ones who love her, tolerate her, and stand up to her without ever rejecting her—just as much as she fails herself and the immigrants she so desperately wants to support.

«You know, Nonviolent Communication is no substitute for the heart.»

Passion for the Other and Self-Surrender

A highly topical subject, a humanitarian is someone who «cares about the welfare of humanity» and «seeks to improve the human condition,» as the Larousse dictionary explains. However—and Legrand understands this—the desire to improve the conditions of men and women is problematic, even paradoxical, as he attempts to show in his film, which, despite the good intentions behind it, remains clumsy, stereotypical, and unfinished.

The angle he takes is that of the family, a subject that touches us all. Plunged into the main character’s frenzy from the very beginning, we believe in the justice she enforces, provokes, and instills in her children for only about ten minutes, before we begin to feel the pain of those she neglects because they «don’t need anything.» We then come to understand that deep wounds dating back to her childhood and her relationship with her mother have never been healed.

While the idea of exploring the humanitarian trend through the lens of family and intergenerational dynamics is interesting—and this aspect is handled well—many details detract from the overall picture. First and foremost, the shadow of stereotypes seems to constantly loom on screen. From the incessant «tchips» of a Guinean woman during an altercation to the organized theft committed by a Moldovan man, the people most directly affected by the subject are portrayed as welfare recipients, and their behavior aligns with the preconceived notions we hold about them in both France and Switzerland.

In his own way, Good intentions shows that the road to hell is paved with such intentions, and that these ultra-determined individuals—who demonstrate to others that awareness of a wrongdoing or injustice must be accompanied by action—such as when Isabelle’s daughter returns clothes made in Bangladesh to her because she feels she has «blood on her hands»—have their place in society and a duty to make their voices heard. But when expressed and put into action merely to fill an emotional void, these intentions have neither meaning nor virtue.

Ultimately, the message gets across, but its impact is diminished by the lack of depth in the characters who revolve around Isabelle and never move beyond a single facet of their personalities. Isabelle’s final speech at the funeral of her beloved grandmother aims to put the matter to rest, atone for her mistakes, and embrace an «extended, flexible, borderless» family, but if family, friends, and immigrants decide to join it, it’s hard to believe this speech came out of nowhere—not even from an explicit reflection on herself.

Write to the author: helene.lavoyer@leregardlibre.com

Photo credit: © Frenetic Films