There was a time when politics was an ideological battle, a place where radically different visions of the world fought, carried by men who incarnated them. Pierre Juquin was one of them. A member of the French Communist Party since he was 23, he was expelled from it 35 years later because of his will to renovate the movement. A dissident candidate in the French presidential elections of 1988, he became then closer to the ecologist movements. Directors Marc-Antoine Roudil and Sophie Bruneau (Ils ne mourraient pas tous mais tous étaient frappés) went to Auvergne (central region of France) ten years after their film Pardevant Notaire to film Pierre Juquin. In this land of History, from Vercingetorix -who resisted the Romans– to the factories working class, through meetings and sequences assembled as a mosaic, the theme of the film emerges: the Republic, the geographic belonging, war, capitalism, religion, a certain way to see the world.
Little by little, through the testimonies of an Algerian worker or a nun, which echoes to the words of Pierre Juquin who has the role of a guide, the drawing of an assessment of French society and of the western civilization slowly stands out. Subtly, without any didacticism, the film raises fascinating questions and reveals the complex interactions of its themes. From a ceremony of French nationality accession to the meeting with a doctor working in a housing estate, brick by brick the film adds its sequences to build an overview of this “land of use”, which is only what we make out of it. Auvergne, filmed here without any cow and almost no volcanoes -traditional cliché emblems of this land-, becomes the illustration of the “march of the world”, which is opposed here to conscience and individual initiative. Guided by the words of Pierre Juquin, as a witness of the evolutions during the fifty last years, the film sets up the idea of a certain form of resistance to the forced forward march of the world, the illusionical “end of the History” promised by capitalism. Fascinating in its content and in its form, Terre d’usage is a very singular film that should be discovered.
Francis Chérasse
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After The Camorra School and its criminal children, Nico Di Biase broaches another sensitive topic: infanticide. For this, it’s within a psychiatric and judicial hospital, in the middle of the Italian countryside, that he decides to film and, most of all, to listen. Because The Black Blood of Medea is attentive to its “protagonists” -women both murderers and wounded, refusing their maternity and feeling unable to be mothers. They intimately reveal themselves, without any taboo, demonstrating a remarkable clarity about the act that has taken them there. An act one would be too easily inclined to describe as monstrous while it’s above all desperate, the upshot of a painful past and an accumulation of frustrations, domestic and social, which they have been the victims of.

A phenomenon taking on an infinity of forms, addiction has never been so virulent than in our modern societies where, driven by pressure of everyday life, the human being throws himself into the consumption of various substances as the only way out to his malaise. Easy to get, existing anywhere in our lives, alcohol is an easy access solution to any trouble which torments us, while keeping a festive aspect and therefore outwardly harmless. It’s interesting to notice that when cinema decides to lean over alcoholism, two of the most famous -and most successful- movies dealing with the subject are the work of filmmakers especially known for their comedies: Billy Wilder with The Lost Weekend and Blake Edwards with Days of Wine and Roses. As if being an expert in humor enabled them to put into perspective the darkness of man and to seize any dramatic topic without sinking into the most dripping pathos and whining effects. A Monkey on My Back avoids that reef too, Jacques Maillot (Our Happy Lives, 1999, and Rivals, 2008) remain ’sober’ when he depicts the portrait of an alcoholic on the path of recovery.
