It
is just another day for the school children, who are playing outside
one winter morning, until it is time for the morning bell. One 6th grade
student, Simon (Émilien Néron), is reminded by his friend Alice L'Écuyer (Sophie Nelisse) that it is his turn to collect the morning milk from the school refrigerator.
And
so, Simon runs off to do so, only to discover that their teacher,
Martine Lachance, has decided to kill herself in the classroom. Simon,
and Sophie, who also peers into the locked classroom before she is
rushed outside by a teacher, are traumatised by what they see, even as
the other students struggle with their grief at the death of a
much-loved teacher.
Unfortunately,
the school cannot think of anything to help the children move forward
from this experience, except to bring in a professional counsellor. They
remove the late teacher's belongings from the classroom, and repaint
the room but the teacher's spirit continues to loom large over them.
It
is under these rather unsavoury circumstances that the school,
desperate to find a substitute teacher, is offered the services of an
Algerian immigrant, Bazhir Lazhar.
Having read of the teacher's suicide in the papers, he offers to teach
at the school in whatever position the principal, Madame Vaillancourt
(Danielle Proulx) deems fit.
He
is a Canadian resident, he assures her, and he has been a teacher for
19 years in his native land. Desperate to find someone eligible, she
hires him on the spot.
His
first lesson is not quite a success. The children are still suffering
from the shock of losing their teacher, and his dictation of Balzac's Le Peau de Chagrin leaves the children bewildered.
The
children find his methods strange. He rearranges the desks into regular rows,
gives them dictation, and enforces discipline in a manner that is verboten.
Yet, despite the cultural chasm between his students and him, he begins to draw
closer to his students. There is something hidden in his past that makes
him attuned to the children's feelings. Attempting to draw them out, he is
warned that the 'experts' will talk about death, and grief. He should
concentrate on teaching. He had already run into problems when he smacks a
child on his back for being naughty in class.
In
today's touchy, over-protective culture, there is zero tolerance for
touch, warns Madame Vaillancourt. Teachers in schools have to remember
- no physical contact. They are not allowed to hug a young child even
if he is crying. How this works to the detriment of the students is
evident when the gym teacher remarks that he can no longer teach the
kids to use the pommel horse; so all he does is to make the children run
around the gym, leading them to think he is an idiot.
As
it turns out, Monsieur Lazhar is not a teacher at all. Neither is he a legal
resident. Applying for refugee status, it turns out that his wife and children
were murdered in Algeria; it is this trauma that makes him sensitive to the
children's needs to express their grief.
So when Alice uses a class assignment
to write about her unresolved grief at her teacher's death and her inexplicable
decision to end her life at school, or when Simon is found in possession of a
disturbing photograph of the dead teacher, or when Victor (Vincent Millard) mentions that his
grandfather committed suicide (but they knew why), Monsieur Lazhar is sensitive
to the confusion and pain that his students feel over an unexplained incident
that traumatises their young lives.
Yet, he is consistently told that he should
not make waves. That the grief counsellor would deal with the children, that he
doesn't know the culture of the place that he is in, or anything at all about
the teacher who died. But when the children themselves bring up the topic, he is
loath to shut them up. Especially when it turns out that many of the children
blame Simon for the teacher's death, and more disturbingly, he blames himself.
Monsieur Lazhar deal with losses of many different kinds - through death, through exile, through grief. Based on
Bashir Lazhar, a one-character play by Évelyne de la Chenelière (who
also appears in a cameo as Alice's mother), director Philippe Falardeau
added in the sub-plot about Simon to develop the story further. The
film deals with death, and its denial. When tragedy strikes, we are wont
to push it under the carpet, not talking about it, hoping that the less
that is said, the sooner everything will be back to 'normal'. As one of
the students, Marie-Frédérique (Marie-Ève Beauregard), says in the film, "It is not we who are traumatised. It is the adults."
As
the children come to terms with death in their own ways, it is their
teacher, Monsieur Lazhar, who travels that journey with them. It is his
unspoken empathy for what they are going through that leads them to
spontaneously bring the topic up for discussion. It is he who inspires
them to think their way out of their grief, and it is he who provides
the support that they need, whether it is Simon being told that it is
not his fault that Martine died, or Alice who, at the end of the film
needs a hug. In fact, she not only needs a hug, she asks for one. It is a
lovely (and ironic) shot - it is a hug that set the train of events
that culminated in Martine's suicide in motion.
For
Alice to hug the (male) teacher therefore, is an overt act of
resistance, an act that is at once taboo and a transgression in today's
society. In that one moment is the realisation of how important it is
for a child to have an adult she can trust.
Directed with an honesty and a subtlety that does not allow for an outpouring of emotion but is still powerful nevertheless, Monsieur Lazhar does
not end on an 'all is well' ending that Hollywood likes to promote. The
ends are not tied up in lovely pink bows and rainbows, but like the
rest of the film, there is a sense that this is how it must be, and a
quiet hope that everyone will move on, now that they have actually
said goodbye - which Martine, the disturbed teacher failed to do. Some
things are indeed meant to end before their time, and Philippe Falardeau
deals with them with compassion, restraint and understanding.
The acting is excellent, both from the students and the supporting cast (the headmistress Madame Vaillancourt, Monsieur Lazhar's colleague Claire (Brigitte Poupart, and the gym teacher Gaston (Jules Philip) should be specifically mentioned) and mostly from Mohamed
Felag as Bazhir Lazhar. He is an unassuming character trying to make
the best of a horrible situation - he has already lost his wife and
children to violent death; by the end of the film, he has also lost his
country. He is dealing not only with grief but also unsympathetic
immigration officials who keep bringing up the deaths of his family. In
his quietness, one sees both deep mourning and quiet acceptance of his
plight.
Sophie
Nelisse is a revelation as Alice, the young girl who has an
older-than-her-age understanding of matters that should be beyond her
ken. Her face and eyes do the talking as she reads out, unemotionally,
her essay about the death of her teacher. She raises the most pertinent
questions about that death, and is easily the voice of the children.
Articulate and emotional, she understands and is able to lay bare her
emotions in a way that makes us understand how much we misunderstand or ignore what our children comprehend about death.
Émilien
Néron shines as Simon, the boy troubled by his teacher's death and his
seeming responsibility for her actions. His final breakdown is as much a
shock as it is a catharsis - not only for him but for everyone else.
The taboo against discussing the tragedy has been broken, and it is
easier now to deal with what is in the open than hide it as a shameful
secret that must be talked about only in hushed whispers.
What I liked about the film was that the reason for the teacher's suicide is never revealed. It is not important. What is
important is that she died by her own hand, and that it affected her
colleagues and her students and even the substitute teacher in myriad
ways. The grief that is felt, the questions that are raised, the
emotions that are evoked all rise organically from the narrative and the
acting, and not once is the audience manipulated to feel a
certain way - we become a part of the narrative that is playing out in
front of us, and what emotions we feel grow out of a shared experience.
The ending is as humorous and bitter-sweet as the rest of the film, the
only way a movie such as this could have ended.
