Cannes review: ‘The Measure of a Man’ is French social critique at its finest

Courtesy of Cannes Film Festival

Veteran French actor Vincent Lindon presses his case for Cannes silverware with a sterling performance in Stéphane Brizé’s low-key but devastatingly powerful social drama “The Measure of a Man”.


There are two strands of French cinema competing at the Cannes Film Festival this year. One revolves around the sort of intellectualised tales of frustrated love that French directors never seem to tire of. The other tackles the socio-economic woes that gnaw a country riddled with hardship, joblessness and self-doubt. With Belgian and British gritty social dramas conspicuously absent from the competition, France is doing much of the heavy lifting in this domain.

“Standing Tall”, the festival’s curtain raiser, charted the turbulent adolescence of a juvenile delinquent shuffled between social agencies. For all its foul-mouthed gloom, Emmanuelle Bercot’s film carried a positive message. It was a celebration of French institutions and their endeavour to rescue the drifting progeny of collapsed families. It is harder to find redeeming features in Stéphane Brizé’s searing “The Measure of a Man”, which drew earnest applause at its press screening on Monday.

Vincent Lindon (right), Stéphane Brizé and producer Christophe Rossignon (left) walk the red carpet at Monday's premiere of "The Measure of a Man".
Vincent Lindon (right), Stéphane Brizé and producer Christophe Rossignon (left) walk the red carpet at Monday's premiere of "The Measure of a Man".

“The Measure of a Man” is the first competition entry by the Breton director. Like much of his previous work, it is a candid, searching study of society seen through the eyes of “small folk” – in this case, a 50-something mechanic on the dole. We meet Thierry, played by Vincent Lindon, at his employment agency in an undisclosed location. He’s just been through five months of training to be a crane operator. It was the agency’s idea, but his counselor now tells him it was a waste of time. The counselor is neither mean nor particularly unhelpful; it’s the system that’s failing Thierry.

This impasse is a recurrent theme throughout the movie. Thierry is trapped in an alienating, paternalist structure that exploits and misleads him, and constantly puts him down. His banker prods him to sell his only possessions in order to avoid insolvency, but then urges him to put more money into a life insurance policy. In a Skype interview, an employer asks him whether he is prepared to accept flexible hours, demotions and lower pay, only to rule out Thierry’s chances and criticise his CV.

Prospective jobs are always “selective and demanding”, stressing the inadequacy of candidates who don’t make the cut. In a chillingly comical scene, Thierry’s performance in a mock interview is dissected by other jobseekers at the employment agency. With fastidious detail, they assess – and mostly censure – his attitude, tone, body language and choice of shirt. When asked whether they would “want to meet him in real life”, most answer “no”.


Midway through the film, the narrative fast-tracks to a supermarket where Thierry has landed a job as a security guard. He spends his days walking the aisles and watching CCTV footage from the supermarket’s myriad surveillance cameras. He is now the one tasked with monitoring and humiliating others, be they customers or employees. The management is trying to get rid of staff. In order to hold on to his job, Thierry must ensure others lose theirs.

The movie’s French title, “La loi du marché” (the Law of the Market), reflects the notion of a harsh economic system in which one’s success depends on another’s demise. Its somewhat different English title is perhaps more evocative of the extent to which this cut-throat environment challenges a man’s integrity and self-respect. This predicament is poignantly conveyed by Lindon’s heart-wrenching performance, as restrained as it is moving.The fact that the lead actor blends in seamlessly with the rest of the cast, made up of non-professionals, is a measure of his talent and Brizé’s supple craftmanship.

Lindon’s understated delivery finds a perfect match in the film’s probing, handheld camera. Brizé takes his time, allowing unease and impotence to build, as when a desperate old man is caught with a steak in his coat and told to pay up or face the police. “Just pay for it and we’ll leave it there,” Thierry repeats, almost begging him to end this ordeal. But the old man simply can’t. We can sense Thierry quietly squirming, and so do we in our comfy seats.

'The Measure of a Man' trailer (in French)


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