It is quite amazing that Jacques Audiard hasn’t really made a bad film yet in his career. To have a good output is one thing but to do it with potentially cringeworthy plots, such as an ex-convict falling in love with a deaf woman or a woman with no legs falling for a street fighter, is quite another. With Rust and Bone, Audiard manages to balance on the knife-edge of melodrama and pretentiousness to make one of the most moving 
films of the year.
What Audiard does particularly well is deconstruct the clichés of Hollywood into his own particular brand of reserved, subtle beauty. Marion Cotillard plays an Orca whale trainer, Stephanie, who loses both her legs in an accident at a show. She met Ali (Matthias Schoenarts), a bouncer at a club, who took her home after getting hurt in a fight at a club prior to losing her legs. Months later, she phones Ali, asking him to come round. Her life is in pieces; no job, no boyfriend and seemingly no hope. Why did she choose to phone him of all people? It is never explained to us, leaving us to wonder. The film works because of all the things Audiard leaves out of the dialogue.
The directing style blends well with the minimalistic script. The actual killer whale accident is one of the most haunting scenes I have encountered. There are no reaction shots, no close ups of shocked faces and very little sound. All Audiard gives us is the split-second shot of a killer whale jumping out the water followed by an underwater shot of a cabin’s debris being scattered sporadically followed by a woman lifeless in the pool with a cloud of blood around her head. The scene is breathtakingly powerful not just for the startling imagery but for the speed in which it happens. It is utterly awe-inspiring and a direct challenge to the established methods of action filmmaking which have dominated our screens for years.
The character of Ali is a fascinating study of the motional complexities of overt masculinity. He pursues woman for ‘quick sex’ and has a son, whom he doesn’t show much love. Once again, the reasons for his kindness towards Stephanie are never really explained though we can make a good guess. They start as friends but their relationship inevitably gets more serious when they start to have sex. Ali starts by doing it as charity when she mentions she hasn’t had sex since the accident but Stephanie starts to fall for him soon after though Ali remains unmoved. Ali’s development culminates in a heartbreaking scene where he begs Stephanie to stay on the phone after he faces unbearable anguish. One could describe Audiard’s characters as cold but that would be failing to see his point: that masculinity is just a charade for those who fail to form connections with those around them.
Marion Cotillard gives the performance of a lifetime here and not because she plays a woman with no legs but because she clearly has a complete understanding of the script and the character she plays. When a character rarely says what she is feeling, it is down to the actor to be able to convey the complexities of their emotions through subtle looks and mannerisms. There is a scene where Ali goes off with another girl in a club and, with no dialogue, Cotillard looks straight ahead with a half-smile though we can tell she is feeling numb with hurt at seeing the man she loves leave her.
Despite having a small budget and a simple story, Rust and Bone is a film of great ambition both in its style and its idiosyncrasies. When it comes to alternate methods of telling a story, European cinema is usually the place to look and Audiard has continued this tradition with a beautiful film that should be used in film schools to show young directors how to convey ideas without dialogue.
4/5 STARS