A 35-year-old woman attempts to reconcile her love for music and family with an inability to handle interpersonal issues without resorting to violence in French-Swiss filmmaker Ursula Meier's The Line.
Meier's psychodrama opens, in agonizing slow motion, with two men attempting to restrain Margaret (co-writer and co-composer Stéphanie Blanchoud) as she lashes out in a house in the Alps while her mother, Christina (Like Crazy's Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), cowers in fright. Tossed into the snow after slapping Christina so hard she hits her head on the grand piano, Margaret limps away as her family watches in relief. The police follow up with a restraining order. If she comes within 100 meters of her mother over the next 90 days, they'll throw her in prison.
With no place to sleep, Margaret gathers up her belongings to stay with former partner Julien (actor-musician Benjamin Biolay), but she can't resist the old neighborhood, no matter how much her 12-year-old half-sister, Marion (newcomer Elli Spagnolo), urges her to keep her distance—even painting a blue line around the property. Marion also tells her that Christina, a concert pianist-turned-piano teacher, has recovered, though her hearing was damaged, effectively ending her career.
Margaret, a singer and guitarist, works odd jobs while helping Marion with her singing practice. If she isn't the most sympathetic character, the flighty Christina, a divorcée with a predilection for younger men, isn't either, which leaves Marion, who loves her sister and relies on her mother, though neither woman is especially lovable or reliable. Louise (India Hair), a third sister, does what she can to keep the peace, but she's pregnant and has her own family to think about.
Just as things seem to be getting better, they get worse when Margaret finds out about Christina's injury and attempts to apologize, but the restraining order remains in effect. Afterward, she disappears altogether, leaving Marion convinced she may have drowned in the creek just outside the 100-meter line. In the end, though, the film isn't a tragedy, and nor is it a recovery drama, since Meier doesn't link Margaret's violent tendencies to drugs, alcohol, or childhood trauma.
Though films about angry women are hardly an anomaly, violent women are another matter. Margaret may not be a killer, but she represents a threat to the people she loves—and possibly even to herself—though Meier (Home, Sister) never shows her lashing out at strangers. If her temper cools as the film unwinds, the director leaves her pathology undefined, other than to show how Christina brings out her worst, even as they have the most in common (only Louise lacks the family's musical gene).
Though The Line's ambiguity is probably intentional, rather than the result of carelessness, it prevents the film from being wholly satisfying. Nonetheless, Meier elicits full-bodied performances from her entire cast, especially Spagnolo, the youngest performer, who ably handles emotionally difficult material. She and Blanchoud are also fine singers. Benjamin Biolay, an established singer and composer, co-wrote and arranged the tender songs Margaret sings in the film.
What kind of film series would this narrative fit in?
The Line would fit with film series on contemporary French cinema, particularly domestic dramas. It would also fit with a series on the work of Valeria Bruni Tedeschi or Ursula Meier, who has directed five features, including two documentaries.
What kind of film collection would this title be suitable for?
The Line would be suitable for International or French-language drama collections in academic and public libraries.
What type of library programming could use this title?
Library programming on contemporary French cinema, films about musical families, and complicated mother-daughter relationships could make productive use of The Line.