I suppose it had to happen; pseuds have been speculating for years about just WHERE those Beckett characters were BEFORE they climbed into dustbins and:or got themselves buried up to the neck. Wonder no more for here is an answer of sorts. You have to hand it to Isabelle Huppert; for a major actress she seems to enjoy nothing more than punctuating mainstream movies with, for want of a better word, experimental fare. Here she is in a domestic situation living with husband Olivier Gourmet and their three children, two girls, one boy, and very happy with it thank you very much. Here's the twisteroo; for reasons best known to themselves they have opted to live about twenty yards from a major motorway. Okay, it's been abandoned for some reason but bizarrely their house is located on the opposite side to everything they need - shops, schools, LIFE, so that every time they need anything they have to climb the barrier on their side, cross the motorway and then climb the barrier on the other side. Not that Huppert ever goes anywhere; the kids do, presumably to school as does Gourmet, possibly to work but they practically define the word insular with no social life other than a radio. Comes the day when the motorway becomes reactivated and where the normal thing would be to move they merely invest in breezeblocks and insulation and - get this - wall themselves in, blocking up all windows and doors, in a word entombing themselves. Eventually, wondering who has the oxygen concession Huppert grabs a sledgehammer and applies it where it will do the most good. End of story. It's clearly a metaphor but don't look at me, I'm still trying to figure out the subtext of Bridgit Goes Hawaian.
Review of Home
