W.H. Auden used a Brueghel painting of Icarus falling from the sky in his poem Musee des Beaux Arts to explain that the old masters understood something important about tragedy: "it takes place/While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along." The focus of storytelling in general, and movies in particular, is on the big, exciting moments. But, as Auden pointed out, even the most catastrophic events are insignificant, overlooked, and ignored by people going about their daily lives. That is, until it is no longer possible. "A Radiant Girl," like Charlotte Wells' stunning directorial debut "Aftersun," rewards close scrutiny. It is deceptively specific about the small moments that are vital to the people involved, but they are fleeting quotidian details in the grand scheme. That is, until the final few seconds, when the events are seen with the benefit of hindsight.


"A Radiant Girl" is the story of a young woman at a crossroads in her life when infinite possibilities seem to stretch into the future. We know her options are about to vanish because we know who, where, and when she is: In 1942, a Jewish girl in Paris. We see the warning signs, just like her father and grandmother, which makes it even more heartbreaking to see how hopeful and happy she is. The period details in the film are understated, with little emphasis on the cars or technology that separates us from the past. Emmanuelle Youchnovski's costume designs are nearly timeless. The costumes are never retro, which adds to our sense of immediacy and connection. Like the classic blazer Irène wears for work, they could almost be seen on the streets today. We don't notice it until near the end of the film, when she turns and the jacket has a yellow star on it.


"Radiant" describes Rebecca Marder as Irène, an aspiring actress on the verge of first love. We are captivated by her open, trusting, and vulnerable face from the moment she appears on screen. Initially, we appear to be hearing her as herself, asking what we think of her and accepting flowers and flowery words from a lover. However, she is practicing lines for an audition. The archaic term "bethink" provides a hint. The tender love scene she is rehearsing is from Pierre de Marivaux's 1740 play L'Épreuve. Irène wants to go to the conservatory to study acting.


André (André Marcon), her feisty and devoted grandmother Marceline (Françoise Widhoff), and her musician brother Igor live with Irène (Anthony Bajon). André begs the conservatory officials to classify Irène as half-Jewish so that she will not be denied admission. Marceline wishes to object to having large, red letters spelling out "Jew" on her identification card. And Igor and Irène continue to exchange the kinds of braggart insults that remind us they are still young.


When Irène's scene partner and potential love interest vanishes, her main concern is finding a replacement for her audition, even though it must be another female student because men are suddenly scarce. Meanwhile, she visits a doctor about her fainting spells and develops feelings for his handsome assistant.


Writer/director Sandrine Kiberlain is an actress who understands the theater world and how young aspiring actors see the world as a stage, blurring the line between story and reality. Even when she's not on stage, Irène can easily "act," pretending not to be able to read the eye chart in order to spend more time with the doctor's assistant, and planning a small but theatrical birthday surprise for her father. In character, she faints, but she also faints in real life. Kiberlain captures the minor details as the young actors prepare for auditions and await the results.


Most Holocaust dramas depict trains, barbed wire, and starving prisoners. This film shows us what happened before, bringing the story to life by allowing us to identify with the people who died.



Movie Ratings: