Bird Watching – Claire Denis’s “Trouble Every Day”

October 24th, 2011 | POSTED BY Brandi Sperry

I’ve written in this space about Claire Denis before, discussing the remarkable film White Material (2009). Just from that one film, I knew that she could be classified as a master of creating tension. I’ve wanted to go back and watch more of her work, and recently sat down with perhaps the odd film out on her resume, an entry in horror: 2001’s Trouble Every Day. Though it differs from the types of dramas she’s best known for, I was eager to see what her skill could create in a genre film. And, of course, I am always enthusiastic about exploring horror made by women. But after watching, I almost chose not to write about it.

I went into the film knowing little about the plot, and I think that’s how it should be seen. That lack of previous knowledge kept me from getting off easy in putting together the pieces Denis gives the viewer. The film begins with ambiguity, and the way in which the picture of what’s happening comes together—the very way that Denis conveys information to the viewer—represents an important aspect of the viewing experience. You are given images, not exposition. She makes you work, and you’re encompassed all the more for it. I want to analyze the film, but more than that, I want to simply recommend it, and leave it for whoever may be reading this to experience for themselves. But since I’ve got a column to fill, I’ll say a little bit. Just to give a taste.

Near the start of the film, a woman (Béatrice Dalle, previously best known to me as the blind woman in the Paris segment of Jim Jarmusch’s Night on Earth) walks along at a truck stop. We’re not sure why she’s there. Is she in trouble? Is she a prostitute, perhaps? She catches the eye of a trucker. We know that something is going to happen, and that it won’t be good. Another man (Alex Descas) comes along; he investigates the scene where the truck stands empty. He searches a nearby field. By the time the sequence is over, we still don’t know what exactly happened. There’s blood on the woman. The trucker is dead. We don’t know the relationship of the man and woman. Very few words have been spoken. Everything is uneasy.

Meanwhile, a newlywed couple is on a plane, heading to Paris for their honeymoon. The husband, Shane, is played by Vincent Gallo, of whom I am usually not a fan, but who is perfectly cast here. The man seems to be physically made of anguish. He needs to do almost nothing to convey that something is amiss, that this is not a normal honeymoon. His wife, June (Tricia Vessey), seems nervous and sweet. She is like a puppy curling up next to its owner who’s had a rough day, with no concept of the actual problem at a hand, just an instinct that some comfort is needed. They hurtle towards peril; we know it, and they fear it even while having another glass of champagne.

The connection between these two sets of characters unravels slowly, and it’s related to the mysterious violence of the first scene I described. More horrific things happen, framed by the deliberate pacing Denis uses. This is not a film of jump scares, but of steady dread. Many films that could be classified as more serious, intellectual horror build slowly to the kind of feeling that permeates this film from the beginning. But we are not just given atmosphere; there is some serious gore at points, look-away-from-the-screen-level gore. It is not cheap. It’s not there just to shock or disturb, though it does. And, besides what is seen (and heard), Denis can also do incredible things just with the suggestion of such brutality. There is a particular scene that I could not get out of my head for days afterward, but the actual “event” wasn’t physically shown. For me, such stimulation of the imagination, and such lingering effect, marks a true accomplishment on the part of the filmmaker.

There are themes at work here that touch on everything from cultural fear of sexuality and desire, to Victorian notions of female hysteria, to secrets we must keep to maintain relationships, to visions of traditional monsters, to what unconditional love can drive one to do. It’s a film that might feel different in its message depending on the particular personal obstacles of the viewer, but I don’t believe anyone wouldn’t find something to connect to amidst this intimate, macabre world. Denis’s and cinematographer Agnès Godard’s flawless compositions—Shane and June amongst cathedral gargoyles, the green scarf about her neck caught in the wind; the porcelain of a hotel bathroom as the background for a naked body; walls doused in arcing blood—convey so much that words are almost not needed. When characters speak, it is for a reason. To watch a film with no filler is a particular joy.

Trouble Every Day premiered outside of competition at Cannes, and received notoriously negative critical response. But it has grown a cult following, and I believe that positive opinion on the film will keep growing with time, perhaps as it did for the similarly boundary-pushing horror film Peeping Tom more than forty years earlier. I thought this film was unequivocally fantastic, and, just as I actually did with White Material, I wanted to watch it again immediately. (If only I had unlimited time.) This is what a brilliant and insistently visual filmmaker can do when presented with a set of conventions like those that define horror as a genre. The film is fierce and contemplative at the same time, beautiful and unnerving, challenging and universal. I cannot recommend it enough.

Alex Descas, Beatrice Dalle, Claire Denis, Tricia Vessey, Trouble Every Day, vincent gallo