A simple film, but never simplistic, beautiful and soothing, but never cloying, directed with all the delicacy and sincerity desired by one of our best filmmakers.
The story of the city dweller deciding one day to swap the concrete and incessant noise of the city for the calm and bucolic landscapes of the countryside has long been exploited in every way.
With Shepherdsfree adaptation of the book Where are you from, shepherd? by author Mathyas Lefebure, Sophie Deraspe delightfully manages to avoid the clichés and the easy things that come too often with this kind of comparison.
Mathyas' (Félix-Antoine Duval) journey in Provence begins, certainly, on the expected note. The latter left his entire existence as an advertising artist fueled by anxiety behind him, with the firm intention of becoming a shepherd.
Despite all his good intentions, Mathyas is quickly confronted with the harsh reality of precarious agriculture, threatened as much by industrial practices as by regulations often written by bureaucrats who have not the slightest idea of the conditions and the many challenges encountered on the land.
A landowner first wants to give Mathyas a chance, but ultimately doesn't have time to teach him everything before the most important time of the year begins. What follows is a visit to the arid land of a surly farmer at the end of his resources, treating his animals in a way that reminds the main person a little too much of everything he has tried to leave behind in Quebec.
By ignoring the basic romanticism in which this type of proposal is usually bathed, Sophie Deraspe makes the disappointments more bitter with the sole aim of bringing together the small victories of her protagonist and his new companion Élise (Solène Rigot) – who has she also decided to abandon the security of her civil servant position to make a pilgrimage towards the essential – the much-hoped-for state of grace.
Finally obtaining the ideal conditions to practice their dream profession, Mathyas and Élise settle down for the summer season in a rustic cabin in the heart of the mountain, with the mandate to monitor a flock of some 800 sheep.
From this turning point, we could affirm that the Quebec filmmaker is downright « slow cinema »offering us a series of magnificent panoramas of an unaltered nature, inhabited only by beasts and two individuals having found each other so much that they have finally found their place in this world. All to the rhythm of an equally calm editing, allowing each narrative element to breathe like one would take a deep breath of fresh air.
The beauty of Shepherds also lies in the way in which Deraspe deploys his universe like an ecosystem, letting each element adapt narratively and dramatically, evolve at its own pace, collapse, get up again, struggle, and ultimately take part in the The maintenance of this same cycle has been perpetuated for centuries.
If certain dialogues can sometimes sound a little hollow, the filmmaker generally manages not to force the note by keeping a sufficient distance from what she films, skillfully applying some lessons learned during her recent stint in cinema. documentary.
There is definitely something as transcendent as it is authentic in this production presenting a social reality, a culture and a tradition in all their aspects, their most enviable sides as well as their most feared facets.
Shepherds is a simple film, but never simplistic, beautiful and soothing, but never cloying, carried out with all the delicacy and sincerity desired by one of our best filmmakers.
