How could anyone not love Laurent Cantet's The Class ( Entre les murs )? Last year's Golden Palm winner is the best film about schoolteaching I have seen: a wise, funny cry of helplessness before the tsunami of anarchy that can be school-age adolescence. Adapted from a novel based on his own teaching experiences by François Bégaudeau, it was co-written by Bégaudeau and Cantet. Bégaudeau himself stars as the hapless teacher in a mixed-race school of low attention and high combustibility.
This isn't the high-school hokum messianic with hope that we get from Hollywood. Don't expect To Monsieur With Love . These are real people - both the grown-ups and the kids - who spar like dedicated enemies. And they are played by real teachers and schoolchildren, who workshopped the script with the star and director.
At the outset a defensive cynicism arms both sides. A new teacher is introduced by an older to the pupils' names, on a roster sheet: "Nice. Not nice. Not at all nice." ("Nice" doesn't quite get the measure of gentil , with its connotations of decency). The students, in turn, use a class on the subjunctive to try to break down Sir's resistance. "It's medieval" . . . "Only snobs use the imperfect subjunctive" . . . "It's bourgeois". The free-form fracas finally releases the fatally intended non-sequitur: "People say you like men."
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