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Rating: “Sotto questo sole è bello pedalare”, so sang Francesco Baccini a few years ago in a mix of light-hearted cheer and timid environmentalism. But the “pedaling” is the only thing in common between this charming little song and the excellent and dramatic film by Boris Lojkine, a skilled French documentarian, on his third feature film. Otherwise, there is never a sun in this wintery, cold, and rainy Paris, except perhaps in the last image of the film (could this be a cautious hope?), and it is not even pleasant to pedal, in the midst of chaotic traffic, honking horns, cars appearing from all directions, and buses that seem to hunt you down as you ride along their reserved lanes.
Souleymane, an immigrant from Guinea, awaiting political asylum, a rider in sublet, pedals as fast as he can in this metropolitan chaos, to deliver as many orders as possible and save up the necessary money to obtain the “fake” documents with which he will attempt to convince he is a refugee.
With the camera always on him, following him in this race through the streets of Paris, and with the script he must memorize for the decisive interview for his future in a couple of days, repeated continuously like a mantra, we the viewers are also caught up in the protagonist's anxiety, perpetually out of breath, delayed by countless difficulties, with very few moments of respite, having barely time to exchange a few words with other compatriots, and decidedly too tired in the evening, when he manages to arrive at the public dormitory, to barely interact with anyone.
The film, shot with realism worthy of the best of our tradition (easy to reference Bicycle Thieves, with which it shares the mode of transportation and economic condition), even if more in content than execution (in neorealism, long takes dominated, while here it is the tight editing that dictates the pace), features a complete absence of an extra-diegetic soundtrack, marking a closer contact with reality.
The final epilogue, partially foreshadowed at the film's beginning (with a circular conclusion reminiscent of great directors), comes at the end of a journey full of obstacles, where, however, affectionate bonds, both romantic and familial (the latter crucial for his immigrant condition), found their rightful place.
The finale is also a textbook lesson in directing, where the young woman subjecting Souleymane to the interview/interrogation remains almost impassive throughout (with neutral close-ups); it is the classic alternation of shots and reverse shots between her and Souleymane, with the increasing awkwardness of the latter going hand in hand with the escalation of filmic tension, climaxing in the most genuine and heartfelt moment of emotion.
Films like these deserve the same success experienced by the old Italian neorealism films, which contributed greatly to bringing the world’s attention to our economic and social situation in the post-war period. Similarly, the widespread release of a film like “Histoire de Souleyman” would help bring people closer together and encourage them to reflect with greater humility on the highly sensitive topic of immigration.
(seen in O.V. subtitled - Italian title: La storia di Souleymane)
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