Cement Garden

Disarmingly strange film about a family of children fending for themselves after first their father, then their mother dies. Oldest son Jack eschews responsibility, leaving next oldest Julie to handle the everyday chores. In the midst of all these devestating changes, Jack and Julie begin to develop a singularly unusual bond, one that is threatened when Julie invites the outside world into their private domain by dating an older man.

This film sparks comparisons to the similarly themed OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE, but the two films differ dramatically. While the children in OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE construct an elaborate fantasy world for themselves(based in part on the dead mother's fanatic religious beliefs), there's no such pretentious in THE CEMENT GARDEN. The children live in a cinder block house, with a cement garden out back, on a plot surrounded by a flat, desolate looking landscape. There are several scenes where the children sit around saying nothing, doing nothing, something that never happens in the other film's active household. The costumes and household furnishings are nondescript; you can't figure out if this film is set in the sixties or the nineties. The overall feel is one of banality, lethargy, and a total absence of passion or vitality. Perhaps it's only in a situation like this that the relationship Jack and Julie have can flourish, and Jack can transform from a petulant, self-absorbed boy to a responsible, loving young man. Strange atmosphere, but very rewarding.

The Cement Garden is based on a book by Ian McEwan and follows a group of siblings as they try to cope with the loss of their parents. However, there is much more to this film than merely the basic plot outline; through interesting character design, surreal locations and a gentle stream of shocking happenings; writer-director Andrew Birkin has created a truly unique and fascinating piece of cinema. Of all the films I have seen, I can't think of a single one that is really anything like this one. The film takes place in and around an isolated house surrounded by concrete (presumably on the edge of a town). The house is inhabited by two adults and four children; until the father dies of a heart attack, and the mother's health deteriorates until her eventual death shortly thereafter. This then leaves the four children to fend for themselves. The eldest siblings, Julie and Jack, decide to hide the mother's body in the basement rather than allowing themselves to go into care. The event affects each of the children in different ways.

The Cement Garden is characterised by its setting; a large and morose house stands amidst a landscape made purely of concrete. This location serves the story as it creates isolation and separates the central family from the rest of the population. The film's colour scheme is based on grey and the gloominess of it helps to enforce the melancholy nature of the story. The film features plenty of shocks and breaks many taboos; but everything is presented in such a gentle manner that most of things featured actually seem quite normal, and that in turn makes them even more shocking. The film really is quite daring, and even more so for the fact that the central cast is so young. The dialogue can be quite awkward at times but the actors make the best of it. The film does become more surreal as it moves along, and while the ending of the film is not really a surprise; it still does manage to provide a shock. Overall, The Cement Garden is an excellent adaptation and well worth a look.

The Cement Garden Andrew Birkin's film has it all: intense characters, controversial situations and unusual concepts, which shouldn't come as a surprise if we keep in mind that it's based upon a novel by Ian McEwan. The protagonists are Jack, a 16 year-old boy and Julie, his sister, barely a couple of years older; then come the youngest sister and the youngest brother. The four of them live with their parents, in a somehow bleak house, completely isolated from other neighborhoods.

Jack spends most of his time avoiding his home duties, such as cleaning up his room, and instead devotes most of his hours in a secluded spot in which he hides a worn out adult magazine and toilet paper. His mother actually confronts him and tells him, following the pseudo-scientific approach from Victorian age (which Foucault so aptly analyzed in his History of sexuality), that his moodiness and messiness is a direct result of self-abuse, and that should he continue practicing that he would end up extenuating his body.

One afternoon, the father is pouring cement into the garden and asks Jack for help, but while the father keeps working on the garden, the young boy is in the bathroom masturbating enthusiastically, with precise visual transitions, the director manages to apprise the moment of Jack's orgasm with the last breadth of the father, as he succumbs to a heart attack. Later on, Jack will tell to his sister "Besides... not my fault he died", answering a question that no sibling had dared to ask up to that moment.

The absence of the father marks the downfall of the family. The mother is unable to step out of her room, depressed as she is, and order and discipline soon turns into chaos and disarray. It's in this context that the constant taunting between Jack and Julie turns into something else. What at first begins as innocent flirtations soon brings up more tantalizing repartees. In one occasion, while Jack is on top of Julie, tickling her, she starts grabbing him in a very distinct manner and comes to an orgasm.

As the mother falls deeper into depression and illness, the fear of being discovered is diluted and thus the incestuous fantasy acquires a firm grasp on reality. As Lacan analyzed in his Antigone seminar, the death drive moves the Greek heroine towards the desire invested exclusively around the body of her deceased brother. In "The Cement Garden", the protagonists start cajoling themselves around this death drive that disappears and leaves only a very real desire and a very real erotic drive. "My brother is what he is" would say Antigone, and in a similar way Jack will tell her sister that if people love him then they will take him as he is.

In Ancient Greece the term "autadelphos" (autos: "same"; adelphos: "sisterly," related to delphus: "womb") would mean something irreplaceable. As Antigone says in Sophocles' play, if she would lose her children she could always get pregnant again, if she would lose her husband she could always find another man, but if she loses her brother, who could possibly replace him? They are, after all, creatures that have shared the same womb and nothing can compare to that. In a similar fashion, the passion between Jack and Julie defies all social norms and regulations. They are irreplaceable for each other, and as the house starts falling apart, they start getting closer and closer.

The absence of the father also means the absence of the nom de pere, the ultimate authority that inscribes the subject into society, that commands his offspring to occupy the male or female position in the symbolic order. Without this authority, male and female positions are interchangeable whether ideologically or practically, as it's made evident by the authority invested upon Julie, who has the full responsibility of being in charge of the house (a role that would be traditionally ascribed to a male), or by the youngest brother's obsession in wearing wigs and skirts, not only dressing up as a girl but also sleeping on the bed with another boy his age, pretending to be Julie and Jack. When Jack intends to stop this peculiar practices, Julie has but one answer for him: "You think that being a girl is degrading but secretly you'd love to know what is it like, wouldn't you?", and in a very tantalizing way places a most effeminate ribbon on his brother's neck.

Crossing all boundaries, subverting the heterosexual normative and assuming incest as something that feels natural and real, Birkin's film announces from the very beginning a dreadful end; perhaps it would be interesting to compare the novel's ending with the one in the film, because after all, once all is said and done, as Lacan would phrase it "…is important to note that one only has to make a conceptual shift and move the night spent with the lady from the category of pleasure to that of jouissance, given that jouissance implies precisely the acceptance of death — and there's no need of sublimation — for the example to be ruined".

I like Ian McEwans writings, especially his early short stories, and this is a generous contribution to the haunting quality of his work (much better than Comfort of Strangers or A Good Son). Charlotte Gainsbourg is wonderful as the impish sister and Andrew Robertson does very well hiding behind his shag cut and masturbating in his private bunker. Camera work is wonderful in a fantastic location in middle of English dump sites with broken houses and bricks. Film´s strength rests not on incest but on superbly explicating a child´s value that it places on it´s family over the rest of the world. Reminds me of long ago isolated family vacations fighting and playing with siblings and forgetting everyone else, just stuck in time. Ignore the poor shock value trailer (``...but he is your brother!´´´) and dip your head into this haunting world of adolescence. Very sad and beautiful. Don´t see with siblings or Mom, I did (an uncomfortable mistake).

The premise of offspring who try to hold their family together after parents' death or desertion has been done a number of times, most notably in "Our Mother's House" (1967), a little-known masterpiece directed by John Clayton. Here the emphasis is different though, concentrating on the developing intimacy between the oldest sibling Julie and her brother Jack. This is presented in a matter-of-fact and non-judgmental fashion, seeming to fit "naturally," as Jack in fact says, with their increasingly weird circumstances. Be warned: there is much adolescent nudity here, including a wild transcendental dance-in-the-rain performed very well by Andrew Robertson. BTW, that scene is reproduced almost identically in "Edges of the Lord" (2001), but with a much younger boy. Ned Birkin, whom I suspect of being director Andrew Birkin's close kin (an irony unintended I'm sure) plays the cross-dressing younger brother, and his sub-plot is not developed, which is probably just as well since he exhibits little talent. I suppose this is included to emphasize the point that in a family untrammeled by conventional moralities, each individual is accepted with whatever modus operandi "works" for him or her. Not an altogether bad idea when one considers it