Full TimeFor many, life is a constant escalation of desperation. This is true at least for a single mother of two and maid at a five-star hotel in Paris named Julie Roy (Laure Calamy), who is forced to juggle commuting into the city for work in the midst of a transportation strike, make sure her children are taken care of, to try to find employment better suited to her skills, and more. Every problem and inconvenience compounds, pressuring Julie evermore with each occurence, pushing her to the breaking point. Will the stress ever let up? Will Julie ever claw her way out of her crummy job, or in the attempt to do so, is she gambling with something more precious than even she realizes?
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The excitement of Éric Gravel's Full Time (À plein temps in French) is in the delicious tension of every scene. This movie moves fast; it is unrelenting, like some thrillers are. The "thrill" here is found in the everyday, however. Julie's life no doubt looks familiar, and the movie is deeply rooted in realism. Train and bus strikes happen in Paris, as they do around the world. One of the most ironic comments comes after a kind stranger named Vincent (Cyril Gueï) gives Julie a ride to Paris, and asks her why she isn't striking. She replies that she can't afford to do so. Ironic, given that the strike which happens in the background of the movie is reportedly over wages. This is but one of many elements that an astute audience can appreciate in Full Time--the idea that there are myriad factors which have led to Julie's predicament, just as they affect others, and how just as many may (or may not) be out of her control. The cleverness in the story is in how it peels away more and more details about Julie, constantly inviting us to reevaluate her situation. At first, we see her struggling as many parents do: to bathe, clothe, and feed her two kids before dawn has even come, then leaving them in the care of her neighbor, the elderly Madame Lusigny (Geneviève Mnich). While Mme. Lusigny appears a bit grumpy at first, we later understand that Julie has been doing this for some time, and has been coming home increasingly late. Despite her apologies, everyone--even Mme. Lusigny--has a point where frustration overrules forgiveness. Consider also how often Julie leaves voicemails for her ex-husband (and her children's father), Alex, over a late alimony payment. She's pressured by the bank to do this because she's apparently late on her mortgage, and Alex never picks up the phone. This suggests that despite the problems with her job as a maid, she simply is not making enough money to keep her family afloat. Mme. Lusigny suggests that she works closer to home at the local supermarket, but for Julie--who we discover has had a much better career than her current one--this represents just one more step down in the career ladder. Even when she is pressured to do this, she edits her resume in such a way to make it appear that she isn't overqualified for such a job. And yet, the question that lingers is that despite her divorce four years prior, what were the circumstances that led to her losing her job in the first place? It likely isn't due to maternity leave, since her two children are definitely older than four years. The mind wonders, and suddenly when you compare these omissions with other details that emerge, you start to wonder if Julie's situation is so completely out of her control, or if this is but the inevitable collision of everything leading to it, rather than just severe bad luck.
The magic of Full Time is in how it affords the audience to draw their own conclusions about Julie, why this nightmare scenario is happening, and how it gleeful manipulates our expectations. We commiserate with Julie and the other people desperately racing for the few cramped busses making their way into the city. Or the people stuck on the train platform watching the only train go by them, because it's "non-stop". There is a great sense of unfairness to everything that happens to Julie, but it is also true for many others. Julie is charged by her boss, the icy Sylvie (Anne Suarez), to train a new girl named Lydia (Mathilde Weil), who has had no prior experience in five-star hotels. Julie is frustrated at the extra demand made of her, and this is evident as this crossness bleeds over in her training. It's easy to imagine that the frustration that Julie feels here may very well be the same that Sylvie experiences, as her bosses may very well have been treating her the same way. There is a pervasive sense that the rich are completely removed from the tribulations of everyday folk, and lack accountability. When Alex finally does return Julie's voicemails, he reveals that he's been out of the country, and the suggestion is that it is for work--a high paying job, perhaps akin to what Julie was formerly accustomed to enjoying. He credits his absentmindedness to this, but fails to apologize sincerely for the strife it caused Julie; it's probably not spite, but it's definitely a lack of consideration. And in one alarming scene, the maids have what they call a "Bobby Sands" event, where a Scottish rock star has apparently ruined a bathroom by spreading filth all over the walls, necessitating the use of a power washer to clean it. Is this really the kind of clientele that deserves the luxury afforded to them in a five-star hotel? And Sylvie doesn't even sympathize with her staff, but rather criticizes Julie for her solution. This is a world where those in service are treated as slaves, expected to conform to a like-it-or-leave-it style of leadership. Unfair. And yet, Julie herself is constantly breaking the same rules she passes down to the other maids, because she has a need, like taking a call during working hours on her cell phone, because it relates to a follow up interview for another job. Or, more egregiously, when Julie accepts a follow up interview, and then compels Lydia to fraudulently clock her out at a time that makes it appear that she's at work when she isn't. Suddenly "fairness" becomes more subjective. Is it fair to put this on the new girl? Julie is smart enough to know that time is of the essence when it comes to pursuing a new job, so for her it is a necessary evil. But isn't this an inherent flaw in the job's selection process itself? Is Julie setting herself up for another position where she may very well do the same things that she's doing here over and over again? Questions should circulate through the minds of those in the audience, and this is one of the more intriguing sides to Full Time.
At less than an hour and a half long, Full Time feels crammed full with events, coming at us (and Julie) rapid-fire. Julie's horrible first day ends after fifteen minutes into the movie. When I checked this, it hit me that this meant that she was due for so much more torture than what had already come before, adding to that sense of despair that comes from sympathizing with her plight. Things don't get better for Julie, and the whole time watching the movie, I was left drained--exhausted, as she was--with this thought. This speaks to the film's success in truly putting you in Julie's mind, forcing you to sympathize with her, even when--at times--you might feel otherwise. She runs herself ragged, trying to be the best she can be for everyone, and this blows up in her face often enough. Quizzically, she buys a trampoline for her hyperactive son, Nolan (Nolan Arizmendi), for his birthday, and tries to assemble it in the dark, after yet another hard day's work. She can't get the safety net up in time for his birthday party on Saturday, so when the guests arrive and the kids get on the trampoline, the other parents--including, coincidentally enough, Vincent--begin pulling their kids off of it. In a later scene after the party, her kids play on the trampoline, but the bedraggled Julie has forgotten to zip up the net. Guess what happens? Vincent proves to be handy and helps put the net up for Julie; he even fixes her hot water heater. Yet Julie's response is telling; she kisses Vincent while they're alone in the basement. In another movie, this setup would feel justifiably saccharine and bear all of the trappings of a cheap romance. But Vincent does not reciprocate, because--as we are aware--they just met each other. When we later consider that Julie has had experience in market research, we begin to understand that Julie is someone who likely mentally "runs the numbers" for what the most beneficial outcome might be in a situation, and goes with that. Obviously, she's not great at this, because despite Vincent being an ex-soldier and young retiree living on a pension, being handy, handsome, single, and altogether a nice guy, she forgets the simple, yet crucial, detail that they are little more than strangers. To her, the prospect of using Vincent as a "way out" of her financial crisis seems to be a small cost for initiating a romance. This kind of behavior becomes increasingly obvious in other moments for Julie in Full Time, such as how she justifies bribing the doorman at the hotel for a taxi to get her to her interview. Julie isn't a bad person, but she is so desperate that she is willing to make ever greater sacrifices to her integrity, because integrity doesn't pay the bills. How often have we all felt this pressure, this demand on us? Where does it end?
That brings us to the enigmatic ending--enigmatic because, in truth, it could be many things. (Suffice to say, stop here if you don't want spoilers.) Her children have asked her to take them to an amusement park--the last thing Julie can afford right now. But when things become insurmountably desperate and it appears that she's taking them by train to school (because her car's inoperable), there is an instance where another non-stop train comes barreling through the station. Julie stands a little too close to the edge, and there is an echo of the climax of Brief Encounter here, in my opinion. Then, with a jarring jump cut, we see Julie driving her kids to said amusement park; she pays with money she's lifted from her kid's piggy bank. Suddenly, she gets a call telling her that she's got the job she sought, the one that she was prepared to give up everything to get and that by all accounts heretofore, she didn't actually get. My first thought was that this reminded me of, oddly enough, the mysterious end of Taxi Driver, and I considered that Julie did jump to end it all--that this was all just the flashes of a dream in the afterlife. Possible, but not exclusively so. Perhaps, like Job of the Old Testament, she has come to terms with God's plan for her, finally accepting that she needs faith to believe that, despite her woes, that things will be alright--and then they are. But also consider that if Julie has experienced problems with her jobs in the past, who's to say that she isn't merely repeating the same cycle of misery that she's been in for all of this time? For all of the time that we spend with Julia, there remain so many possibilities, so many ways that we could contemplate how her future might unfold. That's the sign of great character development, where it isn't so excessive that we can't project our own thoughts and feelings into the mix.
Recommended for: Fans of a driving force of a drama that feels more like an adrenaline rush akin to the recent films by the Safdie brothers (e.g. Good Time). Full Time excels at putting us in Julie's weathered shoes, inviting sympathy yet also an objective assessment of her story--a rare combination. Given how convincing Julie's hardships are, audiences may likely feel themselves grow anxious while relating to her woes, but shouldn't a good movie make us feel something? For me, Full Time certainly did.
The magic of Full Time is in how it affords the audience to draw their own conclusions about Julie, why this nightmare scenario is happening, and how it gleeful manipulates our expectations. We commiserate with Julie and the other people desperately racing for the few cramped busses making their way into the city. Or the people stuck on the train platform watching the only train go by them, because it's "non-stop". There is a great sense of unfairness to everything that happens to Julie, but it is also true for many others. Julie is charged by her boss, the icy Sylvie (Anne Suarez), to train a new girl named Lydia (Mathilde Weil), who has had no prior experience in five-star hotels. Julie is frustrated at the extra demand made of her, and this is evident as this crossness bleeds over in her training. It's easy to imagine that the frustration that Julie feels here may very well be the same that Sylvie experiences, as her bosses may very well have been treating her the same way. There is a pervasive sense that the rich are completely removed from the tribulations of everyday folk, and lack accountability. When Alex finally does return Julie's voicemails, he reveals that he's been out of the country, and the suggestion is that it is for work--a high paying job, perhaps akin to what Julie was formerly accustomed to enjoying. He credits his absentmindedness to this, but fails to apologize sincerely for the strife it caused Julie; it's probably not spite, but it's definitely a lack of consideration. And in one alarming scene, the maids have what they call a "Bobby Sands" event, where a Scottish rock star has apparently ruined a bathroom by spreading filth all over the walls, necessitating the use of a power washer to clean it. Is this really the kind of clientele that deserves the luxury afforded to them in a five-star hotel? And Sylvie doesn't even sympathize with her staff, but rather criticizes Julie for her solution. This is a world where those in service are treated as slaves, expected to conform to a like-it-or-leave-it style of leadership. Unfair. And yet, Julie herself is constantly breaking the same rules she passes down to the other maids, because she has a need, like taking a call during working hours on her cell phone, because it relates to a follow up interview for another job. Or, more egregiously, when Julie accepts a follow up interview, and then compels Lydia to fraudulently clock her out at a time that makes it appear that she's at work when she isn't. Suddenly "fairness" becomes more subjective. Is it fair to put this on the new girl? Julie is smart enough to know that time is of the essence when it comes to pursuing a new job, so for her it is a necessary evil. But isn't this an inherent flaw in the job's selection process itself? Is Julie setting herself up for another position where she may very well do the same things that she's doing here over and over again? Questions should circulate through the minds of those in the audience, and this is one of the more intriguing sides to Full Time.
At less than an hour and a half long, Full Time feels crammed full with events, coming at us (and Julie) rapid-fire. Julie's horrible first day ends after fifteen minutes into the movie. When I checked this, it hit me that this meant that she was due for so much more torture than what had already come before, adding to that sense of despair that comes from sympathizing with her plight. Things don't get better for Julie, and the whole time watching the movie, I was left drained--exhausted, as she was--with this thought. This speaks to the film's success in truly putting you in Julie's mind, forcing you to sympathize with her, even when--at times--you might feel otherwise. She runs herself ragged, trying to be the best she can be for everyone, and this blows up in her face often enough. Quizzically, she buys a trampoline for her hyperactive son, Nolan (Nolan Arizmendi), for his birthday, and tries to assemble it in the dark, after yet another hard day's work. She can't get the safety net up in time for his birthday party on Saturday, so when the guests arrive and the kids get on the trampoline, the other parents--including, coincidentally enough, Vincent--begin pulling their kids off of it. In a later scene after the party, her kids play on the trampoline, but the bedraggled Julie has forgotten to zip up the net. Guess what happens? Vincent proves to be handy and helps put the net up for Julie; he even fixes her hot water heater. Yet Julie's response is telling; she kisses Vincent while they're alone in the basement. In another movie, this setup would feel justifiably saccharine and bear all of the trappings of a cheap romance. But Vincent does not reciprocate, because--as we are aware--they just met each other. When we later consider that Julie has had experience in market research, we begin to understand that Julie is someone who likely mentally "runs the numbers" for what the most beneficial outcome might be in a situation, and goes with that. Obviously, she's not great at this, because despite Vincent being an ex-soldier and young retiree living on a pension, being handy, handsome, single, and altogether a nice guy, she forgets the simple, yet crucial, detail that they are little more than strangers. To her, the prospect of using Vincent as a "way out" of her financial crisis seems to be a small cost for initiating a romance. This kind of behavior becomes increasingly obvious in other moments for Julie in Full Time, such as how she justifies bribing the doorman at the hotel for a taxi to get her to her interview. Julie isn't a bad person, but she is so desperate that she is willing to make ever greater sacrifices to her integrity, because integrity doesn't pay the bills. How often have we all felt this pressure, this demand on us? Where does it end?
That brings us to the enigmatic ending--enigmatic because, in truth, it could be many things. (Suffice to say, stop here if you don't want spoilers.) Her children have asked her to take them to an amusement park--the last thing Julie can afford right now. But when things become insurmountably desperate and it appears that she's taking them by train to school (because her car's inoperable), there is an instance where another non-stop train comes barreling through the station. Julie stands a little too close to the edge, and there is an echo of the climax of Brief Encounter here, in my opinion. Then, with a jarring jump cut, we see Julie driving her kids to said amusement park; she pays with money she's lifted from her kid's piggy bank. Suddenly, she gets a call telling her that she's got the job she sought, the one that she was prepared to give up everything to get and that by all accounts heretofore, she didn't actually get. My first thought was that this reminded me of, oddly enough, the mysterious end of Taxi Driver, and I considered that Julie did jump to end it all--that this was all just the flashes of a dream in the afterlife. Possible, but not exclusively so. Perhaps, like Job of the Old Testament, she has come to terms with God's plan for her, finally accepting that she needs faith to believe that, despite her woes, that things will be alright--and then they are. But also consider that if Julie has experienced problems with her jobs in the past, who's to say that she isn't merely repeating the same cycle of misery that she's been in for all of this time? For all of the time that we spend with Julia, there remain so many possibilities, so many ways that we could contemplate how her future might unfold. That's the sign of great character development, where it isn't so excessive that we can't project our own thoughts and feelings into the mix.
Recommended for: Fans of a driving force of a drama that feels more like an adrenaline rush akin to the recent films by the Safdie brothers (e.g. Good Time). Full Time excels at putting us in Julie's weathered shoes, inviting sympathy yet also an objective assessment of her story--a rare combination. Given how convincing Julie's hardships are, audiences may likely feel themselves grow anxious while relating to her woes, but shouldn't a good movie make us feel something? For me, Full Time certainly did.