054 REVIEW
Directed by
JÉRÉMY CLAPIN
Starring
HAKIM FARIS
VICTOIRE DU BOIS
PATRICK D'ASSUMÇAO
Released
22 NOVEMBER
ANTICIPATION.
A severed hand searching for its
lost body across Paris? Why not?
ENJOYMENT.
The texture and warmth
of the animation is an
inviting gesture into a bold
narrative of self-discovery.
IN RETROSPECT.
Some of the tropes feel a little
thin, but there is a poignant story
beneath it all.
’ve always been particularly fond of the hands
of my loved ones. My mother’s – like my
grandmother’s – are elegantly slender, while
my father’s feel like the warmest place on earth.
Hands tell stories. They carry the wear of the day
or, if you’re so inclined to believe it, contain the path
of your own future, lined with foreshadowings of
children, marriage and a (hopefully) long life span.
Gentle imagery of touch and feeling elevates
Jérémy Clapin’s I Lost My Body to the level of a
tender ode to the beauty of the human hand. This
earnest emotion is woven into the fabric of the
story of the young Naoufel who navigates life as an
immigrant bound to the outskirts of a Paris with no
Eiffel Tower in sight. Clapin’s textured animation
rests in the banlieue and the alienating spaces of
industrial parks, speeding motorways and dank
back alleys.
Naoufel, we learn through occasional backstory
fragments, moves to France following the death of
his parents in their native Morocco. Crammed into
one room with his older, ill-tempered cousin, and
working a lousy pizza delivery job, there is little
solace to be found in his everyday life. A chance
encounter over an apartment block intercom with
Gabrielle, a customer waiting on her late pizza,
sparks a new energy into the young, lonely boy.
Meanwhile, exploring these forgotten and
dilapidated areas at ground level is a severed
hand, the second protagonist occupying one of the
film’s split timelines. Having escaped from a test
laboratory, the hand – all stumbling fingers but a
quick-thinking mind of its own – goes out into thisParisian landscape in search of the body it was once
attached. The non-linear structure lends itself to
this delicately constructed portrait of history and
memory across two distinct yet interwoven lives.
Still, the escapades of this lonely mitt are mostly
terror-laden. Strangling a pigeon in an early
scene is the only way to save itself from falling to
catastrophe, while a face-off against a trio of hungry
rats on the Metro is wracked with tension. Clapin’s
film often shifts to this darker, jump-scarey tone,
though the heightened drama of the hand’s journey
is balanced with the softer, nostalgia-laced aspects
of Naoufel’s story.
There are some moments that feel a little
misplaced and unwarranted, such as Naoufel’s
pursuit of Gabrielle. It endorses the creepy stalking
of a female character who has little more depth
than your classic Manic Pixie Dream Girl. There
is a poignancy to both the hand and Naoufel’s
relationships to their past and what lies ahead, but
the reliance on ideas of destiny and fate feels a little
thin in retrospect.
In its quieter moments the animation glows
with warmth, even in the black and white used
to depict the boy’s memory of his upbringing.
A hand sinks into grains of sand to lift up a seashell.
Dust particles linger in the light of a fading sunset,
glinting through broken windows in abandoned
spaces. There is a tactile quality to the imagery that
creates a welcoming space for the viewer to engage
with, using these specific yet universal touches
of experience and reminiscence to stirring effect.
CATLIN QUINLANI Lost My Body
I