Nicolas Philibert’s unobtrusive magic

Chris Fujiwara / The Boston Phoenix – April 2003

La Moindre des choses (Every Little Thing), a portrait of the experimental psychiatric clinic La Borde, follows the rehearsals and concludes with the performance of Witold Gombrowicz’s play Operetta, in which the clinic’s patients play roles and provide the music. La moindre des choses is a film for which I was entirely unprepared and which I can best describe by all the things it doesn’t do. There’s no exploitation, no “effects”, no slotting of the characters into some discourse “about” madness and therapy (similarly, Etre et avoir isn’t a documentary “about” education). The film is an act of absolute respect, without any of the condescension that the word can imply, and without a hint of self-congratulation. You’re not permitted to be surprised by the humanity of the patients (why would that surprise you?) or by the exceptional talents that several of them display. What might surprise you most, apart from the incredible beauty of the film, is your own capacity of feeling close to these people, moved by their isolation, happy for their triumphs. There’s no difference between the way Philibert films sick people and the way he films normal people. But he’s not making a facile point like, “Look, there really is no difference” (because there is); rather, the film leads you to a heightened state of perception where the differences between people no longer serve as a ground for exclusion.