Rust and Bone

It is a real shame that many people steer clear of foreign films. Offer most of my friends the chance to watch a subtitled movie and they'll look at you as though you've just announced that you've got bubonic plague. But, you know what? It's their loss. Rust and Bone – a French production – is a strong contender for the Top Five Films of 2012 and if you see it, I'm sure you'll agree that the pea brains who don't go anywhere near the faintest sound of an accent are missing out. Big time.

From the celebrated French director Jacques Audiard, Rust and Bone is an atypical love story starring Marion Cotillard (most famous for her roles in Inception and The Dark Knight Rises) and Matthias Schoenaerts (no, I don't know how to pronounce it either). Cotillard plays Stephanie, an orca whale trainer who, after a horrific accident, develops a strange and deep relationship with Ali (Schoenaerts), a nightclub bouncer who wants to make it big in the world of boxing and kick-boxing. Their relationship is flawed, intense and hugely touching and the performances from both Cotillard and Schoenaerts are nothing short of stunning. The character of Stephanie, vulnerable and yet fiercely strong-willed, was portrayed with such intensity by Cotillard that she was intoxicating to watch.

Audiard's direction achieved a perceptive balance between the brutal violence of Ali's fights (where losing a few teeth was to be expected) and the tenderness with which he treated Stephanie. Actually, tenderness is the wrong word. Ali's initial encounters with Stephanie are unsympathetic and rather one-sided. Schoenaerts portrays a character whose actions often hurt those he should love the most; he is not actively cruel but has little awareness of how devastating his behaviour can be to those around him. His poor relationship with his young son only scratches the surface of his inner turmoil and this, perhaps, is why he hits it off with Stephanie. Both are emotionally-damaged and seem to find comfort and strength in the other's problems. There is a quiet, unspoken understanding between the pair, which makes for an incredibly moving love story.

Shot with a beautiful juxtaposition between idyllic beach sequences and dark, blue tones of domestic spaces, the film retains a sense of realism, despite having a plot which could easily be described as ludicrous melodrama. Whilst the last ten minutes did slightly slip into overbearing sentimentality, the rest of the film is so good that I forgave it. There's a scene where Stephanie re-lives her whale training sequences from a wheelchair on her balcony, set to Katy Perry's pop-tastic Firework. In any other hands, this would have shouted 'emotional manipulation' louder than a John Lewis Christmas advert but Audiard, somehow, manages to create a moment of concentrated power.

Rust and Bone is a painful, consuming, intelligent and bruising film, with two fantastic leads in roles which are fascinating to watch as they develop and redefine themselves against a plot which rarely offers them anything to smile about. The sex is graphic, the emotions raw and although totally unorthodox, the film is utterly convincing. Rust and Bone demonstrates the true power of cinema and I urge you to see it. 

Clapperboard Rating: * * * * *