FILM REVIEW: Time Out

Darrin Keene

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Time Out is a psychological thriller that, like Hitchcock's best work, peels away at social norms to reveal ugly truths. The film focuses on Vincent (Aurélien Recoing), a 40-something family man with the requisite bald spot, mid-section pudge and fatigue-laden face of a middle manager. Vincent spends a good portion of his time in his car, calling his wife Muriel (Karen Viard) at frequent intervals to check up on her and their three children. He's obviously a busy man.

The problem is that he's busy at nothing. He lost his consulting job a few weeks ago, but hasn't been able to admit it to anyone. Instead, he travels along the roads of France and Switzerland, even briefly posing as an employee in an office building where U.N. projects are planned. He eventually leaves the building with some documentation. Soon he's telling family and friends that he's a U.N. consultant working on African aid programs.

Vincent's lies don't end there. He tells old friends and acquaintances of a get-rich scheme he's set up, and they start giving him life savings to invest in his imaginary venture. He even convinces his father to loan him money for non-existent housing in Geneva. Meanwhile, he sleeps in his vehicle.

The only person that sees through his masquerade is a disgraced public relations man (Serge Livrozet) who now smuggles counterfeit merchandise. The con man, who has worked with politicians, is well versed in the subtle nuances of a successful lie. Nonetheless, he appears sympathetic to Vincent's predicament, and invites him into his business. Vincent soon finds himself pawning off fake brand-name products, while friends wonder what's happening with their investment money.

You soon stop asking why Vincent's fabricating the lies, and instead watch in wonder as his fake schemes are promulgated with support from family and friends. Director Laurent Cantet creates a believable portrait of an individual who is leading himself and loved ones down a very dangerous path. Vincent may be the engineer of his impending meltdown, but he's getting by with a lot of help from his friends.

Cantet's message extends beyond just one individual. Is it any coincidence that his chosen faux position is with the U.N. (in African aid programs, no less)? There's a scene where Vincent goes to leave after securing money from his unassuming father; looking from outside into the living room where his father still sits, he starts quoting jargon about exploiting "natural resources" to gain inroads into new projects. These are words he's undoubtedly read from one of his U.N. pamphlets.

Of course, he could have chosen a role in other businesses: a dot-com venture or countless institutions that rely on financial derivatives, ghost partnerships or myriad other schemes. The past year has demonstrated that many of these businesses are little more than veneers of fabricated numbers, overly optimistic forecasts and vague jargon. When he starts selling counterfeit merchandise, Vincent can at least rest assured he's selling something physically real.

It's telling that this inconspicuous film can make an audience so uncomfortable yet captivated. Time Out's omnipresent gray skies and blurry, snow-filled scenes compliment the gray areas and half-truths that drive its story. The settings ¡ª large, glass-encased buildings, the claustrophobic confines of a vehicle ¡ª lend to the feeling of entrapment that has so clearly taken over Vincent's life. Cantet's no-frills camera work also establishes an unsettling degree of verisimilitude - Vincent could be anyone's well-respected neighbour, friend or co-worker. Or, most disturbingly, we may see a little bit of him in ourselves.

From Chartattack

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