‘The Vine’ review: Marion Cotillard goes through hell in a thrilling cult-themed melodrama that’s relevant despite its contradictions

For a short and engaging extension of Guillaume Canet’s writings KarmaIt appears to be a film in which Cane’s ex-wife Marion Cotillard plays an alcoholic employee at a Spanish sardine factory. We haven’t seen Cotillard do exactly that before, so that would be fresh, and it might be nice to see her in another working-class social drama, all these years after her Oscar-nominated role. Two days, one night. But something about KarmaThe film’s sinister music tells us that Kanye, who also co-wrote the film, has darker things on his mind. We only see the sardine factory once before the real plot of the film begins.

What Karma What it’s about is a familiar topic to many American consumers of streaming services’ docuseries. No, it’s not about a con artist or a mysterious murder on campus. Instead, it is about an isolated religious sect run by an abusive false prophet. Canet and screenwriter Simone Jacquet envisioned many of the rules and rituals of this religious sect, but they also kept things vague enough not to evoke any particular religious tradition. French Catholicism may be the aesthetic foundation of the group, but its core beliefs center around one human man with his own byzantine set of rules and restrictions.

Before we get to all that, Kanye has to establish the dramatic character. Cotillard plays Jeanne, a French woman who lives on the coast of Spain with her partner, Argentine carpenter Daniel (Leonardo Sbaraglia). They seem to be madly in love, just emphasizing the “crazy” part. Jane’s behavior is erratic – she drinks a lot and is very cavalier when babysitting her friends’ son, with whom she has a strangely close relationship. We’re told she’s the child’s godmother, but her devotion to him—no matter how careless she may be when they’re together—suggests a deeper connection awaits her teaser.

When the boy disappears, Jane becomes the most obvious suspect. She was the last person seen with him, leading him to the riverbank, a water bottle filled with vodka in hand. It doesn’t look good for poor Jane, and after a big secret is revealed, she flees the country and returns to the cruel people who raised her, begging forgiveness from the group’s tyrannical leader Marc (Denis Menochet). Meanwhile, Daniel tries to track down his potential bride on the run while realizing he knows almost nothing about her.

Kanye moves the film convincingly, venturing deeper and deeper into the dark hallway. The cult from which Jane escaped is very insidious indeed, its stone-walled compound serving as a massive prison for the men, women, and children who live and suffer there in fearful stupor. Mark sets the example of the repentant, helpless Jane, reminding the rest of his flock of the punishment for apostasy, using her difficult time among the pagans as evidence of why no one under his control would want to trade his command for such modern sin and depravity.

While Canet mostly keeps the film at a simmering temperature, there are salient social and political points made here — about powerful men’s penchant for sexual violence, and about the dangers of intolerance. He manages some poignant melodrama too, slowly pulling away to reveal the full picture of Jane’s tragic life in operatic terms. Her subjugation is an extreme version of what many women across the planet experience: being controlled, humiliated, and kept. Even the film’s soapier motives can’t obscure the importance of this.

Adding to the film’s impact is Cotillard’s committed performance, an ever-changing portrait of a woman on the run, both physically and mentally. It keeps us guessing at Jean’s ultimate motives, which maintains the film’s mystery even as Canet’s narration takes a backseat. Minoucher is a terrifying marvel as Marc, the great bear of a man frighteningly adept at masking his anger and possessiveness under the guise of a gentle, enlightened ascetic.

The film’s main flaw is its world design, which frequently strains logic. I don’t really believe, for example, that Mark would allow the older children in the community to go to a nearby public school every day. This would pose a huge threat to the hegemony imposed by the film, especially for the more curious and rebellious people of their age. Kanye has to do some exercise to sell his many egos, and he bares a few of them off the ground with a stroke of all-too-easy relief. The film’s majestic, ominous tone is undermined when it has to stoop to such narrative shortcuts.

still, Karma There’s a lot of interaction all the time. It’s encouraging that it’s a movie at all. In the US, that same story would likely stretch to six or eight gruesome hours and be released into the crowded content markets of Apple or Amazon. So, credit must be given to Kanye’s competence, his belief in the power of the right movie star, and a narrative big enough to hold our attention for the duration of the film. It does just that, and it is powerful enough to be taken seriously without being mistaken for high art.