Tomboy

Laure, the tomboy of the title, moves because of Dad's job to a new neighbourhood and has to negotiate the minefield of finding new friends. With her short-cropped hair and boyish looks, it is easy for Laure to pass herself off as a boy. So she does. Existing as Mikael, she digs a hole deeper and deeper for herself during summer holidays. With the start of school approaching, friendships made and romances embarked upon, something has to give.

The film works in large part due to the casting. Zoé Héran as Laure / Mikael is so convincing as a boy that when she does finally don a dress it just looks... wrong. A double for a young Sting, she has an easy charisma and strong expression that makes her every move unmissable. Mikael is befriended by Lisa, a precocious Jeanne Disson, and young love blossoms in bizarre circumstances. As strong as these two performances are, Malonn Lévana Malonn as Laure's little sister Jeanne steals every scene she is in. Given a secret to keep half-way through, she crackles and delights every time you see her and wonder if she can keep the confidence.

As delightful as the children are, the theme of a young girl yearning to be a boy is presented but hardly explored. The film is episodic, one summer in the life of a mixed up girl. Laure's reasons for taking things so far are never dealt with beyond surface levels, and no resonance to wider concerns in society are present. The narrative strains with such insubstantial fare, but never breaks. Fans of such coming-of-age tales as Stand By Me or Yamada's Village of Dreams will enjoy this tale.

The French film "Tomboy," directed by Céline Sciamma, is a delicate work that delves into the turmoil of adolescence with remarkable authenticity. Through the story of Laure, a young girl who presents herself as a boy to her new friends, the film subtly explores issues of identity, gender fluidity, and the role-playing games that teenagers engage in to find their place.

Sciamma's naturalistic approach to camerawork and direction allows the raw emotions of adolescence to take center stage. The camera's unflinching gaze lingers on the face of the remarkable Zoé Héran, who portrays Laure with a depth of vulnerability and inner conflict that is truly captivating. Her every furtive glance and subtle expression convey the profound malaise and confusion that come with navigating the complexities of gender and self-discovery at such a tender age.

Far from sugarcoating or sensationalizing its subject matter, "Tomboy" handles the delicate themes with a refreshing honesty and nuance. The film avoids easy resolutions or heavy-handed messaging, instead inviting viewers to empathize with Laure's journey and the universal experiences of adolescence - the search for acceptance, the desire to belong, and the constant push-and-pull between asserting one's individuality and conforming to societal norms.

Notably, "Tomboy" also offers a nuanced portrayal of the parent-child dynamic, highlighting the eternal gap that often exists between adolescents and their parents. While Laure's parents are depicted as loving and well-intentioned, their inability to fully understand their child's inner turmoil serves as a poignant reminder of the challenges faced by families navigating the complexities of gender and identity.

Despite its sensitive subject matter, "Tomboy" is ultimately a film about the universal experiences of adolescence, rather than a political manifesto. Sciamma's deft touch ensures that the story remains grounded in the emotional realities of its characters, inviting viewers to connect with their struggles and triumphs on a deeply human level.

Unfortunately, some conservative minds viewed the screening of this film in a school setting with disdain, leading to its cancellation. It is deplorable that intolerance and prejudice have shattered the opportunity to offer our youth a window into the complex world of adolescence, depicted with such sensitivity and realism in "Tomboy." Far from promoting any agenda, this film simply invites empathy and understanding of the inner turmoil that agitates our teenagers.

In these times when open-mindedness and acceptance of diversity are more necessary than ever, it is regrettable to see such a cinematic masterpiece censored by the fear of the unknown. Sciamma's delicate handling of the subject matter, coupled with the raw authenticity of the performances and camerawork, make "Tomboy" a powerful and important work of art that deserves to be seen and discussed.

Let us hope that the future holds more opportunities to explore these crucial themes through art, without hindrance or hasty judgments. For it is only through open dialogue and a willingness to understand perspectives different from our own that we can truly bridge the gaps that divide us and foster a more compassionate, inclusive society.

Tomboy is a feel-good movie of a type we're unaccustomed to seeing: it doesn't end with killings or sex or a pile of money. It's a movie about children where the children aren't effigies of the adult audience, with knowing wrinkles and smart-aleck sneers carved on ten-year-old faces. It is the opposite. It's a movie that can help the hardened and scratched-up adult carapace melt away for 80-odd minutes. Through layers of paperwork and grime, we watch and we imagine remembering what it was like to feel protected and loved by two tall and wonderful beings. What it was like to come home to dinner. What it was like not knowing who you were.

The Tomboy is Laure, a 10-year-old girl whose family just moved to a leafy suburb. She has a summer to spend before school starts, and for reasons unclear even to herself, decides to fake it as a boy. Zoé Héran, the actress, is a remarkable performer and will be a remarkable French beauty in another decade, but in the film appears as a wiry, scrawny child who wears feminine clothes only on pain of motherly torture. She runs in the forest, scraps around with boys, and can get away with being on the "shirtless" team in the soccer game.

Here's something amazing about Héran's performance: I kept having to remind myself that she speaks. In fact, she probably has more lines than anyone else in the movie, but they seem ephemeral compared to the great work that silently goes on in her mind. The camera watches her think with such intensity and expression, and since this is not a dumb movie, we don't get a voice-over that explains the obvious. We know what she's thinking: how will I continue the deception on the field and in the lake? How will I prevent my family from finding out? And, in quieter moments, other thoughts, other sensations, attempts to understand things that she can feel but hasn't yet learned the words for.

Her self-discovery is framed by a supporting cast that includes tender and attentive parents, a cute little ball of energy for a younger sister, a neighborhood girl who's attracted to the mysterious stranger, and a colorful group of rambunctious but good-natured boys.

Tomboy was made for peanuts, and there's no telling what it would have looked like with a few million dollars to spend, but the feel and sound of it are perfect. In the day, the hiss and rustle of trees; at night, the taps and groans of the house in the wind. I watched it in a dark, dusty room on a New England January, and I could almost feel the sunlight on my own skin.

In the end, despite Laure's anxieties, this is a movie that shines with joy. A wide-open world of familial love, summer play, first romance, none of which is packaged to be bought or sold. None of that first-world paranoia, no fences and kidnappers and card readers and metal detectors. It's a picture of the days when half an hour of homework was a jail term, three months of summer were a lifetime, and childhood itself was a sky-blue eternity of invented games, skin-deep catastrophes and ineffable comfort at the steady hands of the people who wish us best.

P.S. Then again, we adults have our own joys, such as the dismal, acrid laughter at the stupidity of others. This movie didn't go unnoticed on the arch-conservative website The Free Republic, which claims that the main character is a lesbian (the word doesn't actually appear once in the script, and the director is on record saying she specifically wanted to avoid pigeonholing her protagonist). Of all the extraordinarily strong opinions expressed in the forum thread, not one appears to be informed by an actual viewing.

The discussion starts out by claiming that the movie "exploits small children to advance progressives' bizarre sexual agenda;" it takes a detour through gender reassignment surgery, underage sex and ends in a starkly pornographic debate about bestiality.

It's a trope that guardians of morality often have infinitely filthier and more disturbing minds under their helmets than the people whose work gives them shrieking fits. The debauched French have made a serene and charming movie about family and friends, whereas our self-anointed protectors of children's minds and bodies used it as a springboard into bottomless perversity. The moral: if you have a choice between reading a dour political site and watching a French children's movie, go with the movie.

This small independent film was made for peanuts (Filmed on a Canon 5D and just a handful of people in the crew) and it is probably unlikely to make any big impact on the box-office. However I'm sure it'll leave a mark on those few who will actually manage to see it.

Zoé Héran is absolutely wonderful as Laure, the 10 years old girl who's just moved into a new neighbourhood where nobody knows her and pretends to be a boy (Michaël) with her new friends. Her performance is one of the best of the year, and possibly among the best ever performances by a child: she not only perfectly captures that innocence that children of that age have, but at the same time she seems to have a deep understanding of the struggle and the pain of her character. Throughout the film she really acts as if she was a real boy in a way that's so believable that at some point I really started to wonder whether "she" was actually a real "he". The film knows that and it does play with you by stretching the lie as far as it possibly can, until it decides to show you the real truth in a beautifully handled scene where you do actually see briefly the girl naked. It's a fleeting moment and the film obviously doesn't linger on it, but it's enough to put our minds at rest so that we can carry on enjoying the rest of the story.

The director Céline Sciamma's ability to film children making it look real is incredible. It feels effortless as if the camera was one of the children themselves and we as the audience are left observing them playing in the forest as if we were spying on them, or as if it was all a documentary. Rarely I have seen scenes with such young children that feel so honest and real: the approach is subtle and light, the atmosphere is almost muted, dialogue to advance the story is used to a minimum and the silences are charges with meaning and intensity. This is a subject that rarely makes the news, let alone the movie theatres. And it's so refreshing not just to see it depicted in this film, but to have it told with such an understanding, honesty and open-mindedness. All this together with the stellar acting from little Zoé make the internal drama of Laure/Michaël even more poignant and powerful. Be warned, this is a slow film (a very short one too at only 82 minutes), that has "French independent" written all over it, from its pace, to its rough look and its lack of music score, but if you, like me, love films about children growing up, this sensitive, tender and never heavy- handed story might just melt your heart too.

I saw it months ago and I still remember it vividly, so it must have worked on me.

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The actors in this film are amazing. Its incredible because in an interview Celine Sciamma said that the lead character Mikael/ Laure, played by Zoe Heran, was found by chance and not through typical casting agencies which proved to be absolutely perfect for the role. I like the lack of music throughout the whole film. It leaves it up to you to assess the situation in each scene, the emotions felt by the characters and the intensity of those emotions. I suppose this is a very prevalent feature in the majority of French films which I absolutely love. The film revolves around the experiences and encounters of adolescents, which has sort of a stripped back element of innocence that makes it impossible not to become invested. The storyline follows the lead character's discovery of self identity, the conflicts of the film is driven by complications of "how people and things should be" that we can see are already planted in most of the other children's idea of things. One watches this film and finds that, there is no fault in any of the characters. 9 out of 10 because this film questions so much revolving perception related to identity, and at the same time challenges the limits of love.