‘L’Enfance Nue’ is striking in the blandness of its imagery. There is nothing aesthetically to distinguish the reality of this film from the reality of one’s everyday life. As the film opens on a dreary day on a street lined with concrete buildings, one shivers at the truthfulness of Pialat’s world. Life would never look so real were it reflected in a mirror.
Against this backdrop of uncensored reality, Francois’s story seems horribly poignant. He is not a boy in a film. He is a three dimension real boy, existing in real time. His thick wispy hair and high cheekbones frame the eyes of a little soul on a transient journey.
For Francois, each of life’s beautiful moments is short lived, for, as a foster child, he is passed between families without warning or apology. Finding some element of comfort in each home, he must move on. He is both the hero and the villain of his own story, causing chaos and inducing harmony wherever he goes.
We are kept at an emotional distance from our protagonist. Moments of pointless cruelty- he throws a cat down stairs, and kicks a shoe into the gutter- are not explained or justified. We are not even sure if Francois knows why he does these things.
In a sense, Francois’s lack of control and his inability to be the master of his own destiny strikes a chord with us. It reflects back the ultimate truth of human life, the impossibility of managing our own fate.