Tending L'Enfant: Dardenne Brothers Return with Another Palme d'Or Winner
	Richard Porton, Film Journal International. 1 March, 2006. Original article here. For directors who are now the subject of sober analyses in film journals-not to mention the two-time winners of the top prize awarded by the Cannes Film Festival, the Palme d'Or, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne (known to all and sundry as the Dardenne Brothers) are refreshingly unpretentious. When Film Journal International spoke to the fifty-something brothers at the 2005 New York Festival shortly before the U.S. premiere of their second Palme d'Or winner, L'Enfant (The Child), they were in a typically upbeat mood. Despite their films' frequently bleak concerns, the Dardennes possess a playful, even impish sense of humor. Above all, they convey an almost childlike enthusiasm for the nuts and bolts of filmmaking; during our conversation, they recounted the evolution of many of the key scenes in L'Enfant with great relish. In an era when international co-productions have given birth to impersonal movies sneeringly referred to as "Europuddings," the Dardennes, who have conceived and shot all of their major features in the Belgian industrial city of Seraing, are the cinematic equivalents of small craftsmen quietly resisting corporate mediocrity. Known for its steel industry and gritty working-class ambience, Seraing is the polar opposite of the tourist vision of Belgium as a country where the main preoccupations are ingesting fine beer and chocolates while admiring the paintings of the Old Masters. Jean-Pierre in fact agreed during our conservation that he "couldn't conceive" making a film in, say, Brussels-let alone outside of Belgium. Since the brothers have such an intimate knowledge of Seraing, location scouting, an important step in their creative process, is second nature to them. Luc insists "we always have specific locations in mind before shooting-even if those locations might change when we start filming." They both agree, with more than a modicum of pride, that they are essentially regional filmmakers. Even though the Dardennes honed their filmmaking skills by producing intensely political documentaries (which remain virtually unknown outside Belgium) during the late 1970s and 1980s, the feature films that made their reputation are less concerned with grandiose political statements than with intimate explorations of individuals grappling with moral quandaries. A typical Dardenne protagonist is usually a supremely flawed individual who eventually makes a small leap of faith than enables him or her to retain a certain amount of dignity in the midst of squalor and dishonesty. Igor, for example, the teenage protagonist of La Promesse (played brilliantly by the young Jérémie Renier), initially seems destined to remain as corrupt as his slimy father. Yet, at a pivotal moment, Igor is able to make a stand and condemn his father's sordid exploitation of immigrant labor. The title character of the 1999 Palme d'Or winner Rosetta (embodied by the young Emilie Duquenne in a breakthrough performance) is a sullen, singularly unappealing young woman scarred by her mother's alcoholism and a grueling work regime. Despite having either ignored or betrayed everyone who tries to help her, Rosetta retains the audience's empathy because of her sheer determination to endure adversity without capitulating to inertia or suicide. Bruno, the central character of Sony Pictures Classics' L'Enfant, is perhaps the most repellent figure in the Dardennes' rogues' gallery-a petty thief who resorts to selling his and his girlfriend Sonia's baby for a paltry amount of cash. It's eminently clear, however, that the brothers view their central character's misdeeds with equal measures of bemusement and compassion. Like other Dardenne anti-heroes and anti-heroines, Bruno eventually turns over a new leaf and Luc emphasizes that "we were mainly interested in Bruno's moral evolution . . . the film is about the birth of his conscience." In addition, Jean-Pierre obviously finds it difficult to conceal a sneaking admiration for this seeming lowlife. Between chuckles, he remarks with gentle irony that Bruno "is not a bad thief-but perhaps not one with a great career ahead of him. He's smart enough to use small kids to help him with his thefts-since in Belgium at least these young accomplices can't be arrested or jailed." When asked about the contradiction that their early films celebrated workers' movements while the slug-like Bruno believes that "work is a fool's game," Jean-Pierre gamely replies, "Being a thief is a kind of work-it's not easy and in fact involves a lot of effort!" Luc also speculates that a scene during the film's culminating robbery, which features Bruno painstakingly straightening out a metal bar, could be termed an inadvertent tribute to Seraing's steel industry! Given the requirements of the Dardennes' character-driven films, it's no surprise that they're particularly eloquent on the casting process and their close working relationship with actors. In true neo-realist fashion, L'Enfant features both seasoned professionals and non-professionals in their first roles. Although Déborah Francois, who plays the long-suffering Sonia, has never acted in films before, her unaffected performance meshes seamlessly with the contributions of veterans Renier (whose indolent Bruno is worlds away from the inquisitive Igor he played in La Promesse) and Olivier Gourmet (the Cannes award-winning star of their previous film, The Son). According to Luc, "An actress such as Déborah, who hasn't worked in films before, can only help our process." He observes that he and his brother were in fact a "little nervous" about working with Jérémie Renier again. They remembered him as the carefree kid who starred in La Promesse and wondered if he could pull off the much different role of Bruno. As it turned out, Renier inhabits the role with complete ease and his dissolute Bruno bears little resemblance to the much more innocent character he portrayed many years earlier. Many critics have noted the affinities between the Dardennes' use of non-professionals-and spare, stripped-down style-and the films of the late Robert Bresson. The debt the brothers owe to Bresson is most evident in L'Enfant's conclusion: a moving finale in which Sonia visits the repentant Bruno in jail and both experience a moment of redemptive (although apparently secular) grace. Asked about the parallels between the conclusion of L'Enfant and Pickpocket, Jean-Luc seems both eager to register his respect for Bresson's legacy and concerned about accusations that their films might be considered pale imitations of the French director's masterpieces. He insists, "It's true that we've seen Pickpocket and admire it. But we didn't realize that there were parallels between that film and ours until we completed it. In fact, we originally had a much less happy ending in mind and thought of killing off Bruno. But we eventually thought this wasn't satisfactory and decided to spare him." Jean-Pierre's musings make it clear that the brothers' films undergo a subtle evolution from pre-production to the completed work. A genuine desire to share the intricacies of the creative process underlined Luc's decision to publish working notes as well as the shooting scripts of The Son and L'Enfant in a volume (not yet available in English) entitled Au dos de nos images: 1991-2005. For Luc, the shooting scripts and notes are a supplement to the visceral experience of viewing the films and "provide the public with a very good idea of our working method and how our initial concepts changed during the course of filming." It is this spirit of openness and generosity that characterizes the Dardennes' cinematic vision. Oblivious to the cynicism and bad faith that mar so many contemporary films, they remain unapologetically optimistic.