Directed by Lola Doillon
Boston premiere, screens May 11, 6:30 pm and May 21, 2:30 pm,
at the Museum of Fine Arts. Presented by the National Center for Jewish Film’s 20th
Annual Film Festival, May 4–21, 2017.
Many memoirs have been written by children who survived the
Holocaust, in flight on their own with terrifying murderers on their heels. Fanny’s Journey, based on one of those
memoirs, by octogenarian Fanny Ben-Ami, illuminates the unifying phenomenon that
exists in all these stories, and that is a child’s innate survivor abilities.
True, not all humans have this instinct to the same degree, many collapse in
surrender, but resilience and wily survivor skills saved many children fleeing
a monolithic enemy with pointed guns. It mind-blows safe and comfortable
audiences that even three and four year olds understand the life-and-death
importance of utter silence—the silence of hunted animals in the bushes as the
predator goes sniffing by. It’s horrible to witness unprotected children
dealing with war and the enemy—they’re vulnerable scavengers propelled onward
by hunger and terror. The nine children’s flight toward Switzerland in Fanny’s Journey has relevance today with
the Syrian and other civil wars ongoing.
The subject of adults hunting down
innocent children in order to kill them takes a new tack in Doillon’s film. She
intentionally eschews scenes of violence: “I wanted to make a movie on World
War II that children of any age could watch with their family or teachers. I
hope it opens a dialogue,” she says. Some critics will complain about this
approach, because it overly softens some of the movie’s scenes, further
sweetened by sentimental music. In particular, the recurring “play motif” might
feel heavy-handed; the movie begins with boarding-school children in rural France
playing ball on a grassy lawn, their laughter and fresh-air delight keenly felt.
They’re called home by a teacher who hands out the mail, one of the letters for
Fanny and her two younger sisters—Jewish children who have been placed at the tucked-away
school for safekeeping in Nazi-occupied France. Fanny’s mother writes of the
camp where their father has been interred—he’s alive but no one knows his fate.
Later, when the children endure the terrors of their flight to Switzerland,
periodic moments of the same playful abandon and laughter occur. On the point
of exhaustion and dehydration, the children find a stream and drink deeply.
Afterward they splash each other and then abandon themselves to water play. These
periodic intrusions to the otherwise harrowing drama are actually purposeful on
the director’s part: They remind us that only children have the ability to lose
themselves in play and laughter, and this precious innocence is the adult
world’s responsibility to safeguard. Additionally, the Holocaust should be
taught in schools to cultivate humanity from an early age, and making this
unimaginably cruel subject acceptable for young audiences through a film for
all ages benefits global societies. The nine children in the story have heartwarming
appeal that draws us immediately and intimately into their journey. Fanny, age
thirteen, leads her brood through every travail, so that for younger audiences
the escape is a kind of adventure with a heroine they can identify with.
The historical details surrounding
the children’s supervised moves to safe havens, followed by their unaccompanied
flight, are excellent. The story’s characters are well-drawn, in particular,
Madame Forman, who works for an organization saving Jewish children. Her
location is on the Italian border, so that when Mussolini falls, she scrambles
to move the children to Switzerland, as the Germans will be pouring into her town
at any moment. Her mentorship of Fanny helps the youngster lead the children
onward when Madame Forman’s original plan goes awry. That’s when the kids’
“adventure” begins.
Throughout the escape, the kids are
dealing with their loss of parents in a realistic way. When standoffish Viktor,
who is Fanny’s age, weeps quietly one night that he wants his mother, Fanny
holds his hand and weeps with him for their shared losses. She awakes the next
morning to find that they’ve fallen asleep curled against one another—as if the
parents of their younger charges. We see how the kids can flare-up and fight but
a few minutes later be comrades again, their emotional world fluid the way it
is with children in real life.
The film’s camera work by Pierre
Cottereau also deserves praise; there’s a timing and emotional depth to it,
besides the exceptional angle and shot work. Tension achieved by the camera helps
advance the plot, along with a strong musical score, some of it “innocent” singing
by children.
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