Labour Struggles on Screen: Stéphane Brizé & Vincent Lindon’s Work Trilogy

Brizé’s gripping work trilogy—The Measure of a Man (2015), At War (2018), and Another World (2021)—all starring French powerhouse Vincent Lindon, stands as one of the most compelling cinematic explorations of labour markets in today’s capitalism. A discussion about his thought-provoking films in this forum has long been overdue.

Stéphane Brizé has a long track record of producing and directing pro­vo­ca­ti­ve films about work. The trilogy with Vincent Lindon stands out among these: “The Measure of a Man” (“La loi du marché”, 2015), “At War” (“En guerre”, 2018) and “Another World” (“Un autre monde”, 2021), each depict modern capi­ta­list work practices from a different per­spec­ti­ve – with Lindon being a jobseeker, a union leader and a corporate group director in turn – but the over­ar­ching message is clear: no one is com­for­ta­ble in post-indus­tri­al capitalism.

The fact that Vincent Lindon plays all three roles is of vital impor­t­ance; it high­lights the unpre­dic­ta­bi­li­ty of human fate and of modern labour markets: the same person pre­sen­ting annual per­for­mance metrics at a share­hol­der con­fe­rence one day could easily be out of a job the next. Instead of recoun­ting their sto­ry­lines, it is more valuable to identify different per­spec­ti­ves on and reactions to the shared chal­len­ges that life presents for each of these three characters.

First, Lindon expe­ri­en­ces the highs and lows of marriage in all three films, but social class and societal expec­ta­ti­ons become more restric­ti­ve as he becomes a more prominent actor on the corporate stage: as a job-seeker, he receives the warm support of his wife who motivates him to advance in the laborious laby­rinthi­ne job search although she is by no means an expert. As a union leader he is already divorced but maintains a solid rela­ti­ons­hip with his daughter. As a company director he has a wall full of tender family pictures, but this opening shot in “Another World” contrasts starkly with the vin­dic­ti­ve exchange between two divorce lawyers: “My client has already accepted the divorce; hence one cannot impose ever­ything on him and he cannot accept ever­ything.” – “For my client, her daily life has become hell.”[1] And then, suddenly, a bit of humanity bursts into the legal protocol, as the wife speaks directly at her husband:  “At the time, I didn’t sign for you to bring all your problems back home!”“ This reference to their prenup, a classic upper-class device to separate and give to each party what they con­tri­bu­t­ed, suggests that the respon­si­bi­li­ty of caring for their disabled child and smiling politely at corporate events was never recognised.

Second, all prot­ago­nists have a child. The children also reflect their parent’s status: the blue collar labourer has a son with a physical disa­bi­li­ty, whereas the white collar ‘knowledge worker’ has a child with a cognitive disa­bi­li­ty. There are multiple scenes with these children present directly or indi­rect­ly (via photos or videos), but the genuine feeling of a happy carefree family emerges only once in each film: the dancing scene in „ The Measure of a Man ” , when the parents return from their weekly salsa class and then dance with the disabled child in their cramped living room; the frisbee scene in “Another World”, when the father finally takes time off to visit his son in his psych­iatric clinic and plays with him in the garden; and the hospital visit in “At War”, which Lindon makes to his  daughter, who has just had a baby in a different town. In all three scenes, the music becomes quieter until it becomes silent. Pure human emotions don’t need any sup­por­ting soundtrack.

Third, all families consider moving house in order to respond to their changing needs. Their external move reflects the internal dis­com­fort with their situation, their duties and cons­traints: the CEO’s family moves into a huge, modern house with a glass façade (to simulate trans­pa­ren­cy) in order to visually con­so­li­da­te the father’s pro­fes­sio­nal advan­ce­ment and buy some external calm in their carefully manicured garden – here, behind the concrete entrance and the security cameras, there are some moments of peace. The poorer family in „The Measure of a Man” are asked by their bank manager whether they would be willing to sell their flat to mitigate their cashflow problems and Lindon rejects the pro­po­si­ti­on empha­ti­cal­ly: „That would be as if…as if ever­ything we’ve done…doesn’t lead anywhere, all for nothing! Being a renter at my age…just: no!”.[2] The bank manager initially accepts, but then keeps upselling: “In your pre­ca­rious situation, have you con­si­de­red insurance, life insurance?”. She already foresees an indebted customer – hence the addi­tio­nal squeeze. Instead of selling their flat, the family even­tual­ly tries to sell their camping van by the seaside.  A couple who saw the listing comes to view the van, they like it and then try to haggle down the price. Lindon first refuses the nego­tia­ti­on outright, then gets very agitated as numbers are expressed: the van was priced at 7,000 Euros and now that the potential viewers have seen it (and measured the area with their own devices – scam!?), they suggest 6,200 (Lindon is shocked), then 6,300 (still shocked), then he storms out as the haggling continues. He had offered to ’haggle-down’, but in his proud ima­gi­na­ti­on he had foreseen “at most 6,900” as the accep­ta­ble baseline. That shows: “The Measure of a Man”. In “At War”, by contrast there is no home at all, just in-between places. Work­ben­ches, hospitals, super­mar­kets. There is no site of respite in the flaming factory of life.

Fourth, the use of tech­no­lo­gy in all three films mul­ti­plies the eyes watching each other, much more than the video interview which the jobseeker Lindon undergoes in his living room (which Brizé has described as “violent” and “dis­re­spect­ful” despite the fact that we never get to see the inter­view­er) are the sur­veil­lan­ce cameras that are present in all of the films. When Lindon is a security guard in “A Measure of a Man”, each customer and each isle can be observed from the Fou­caul­di­an pan­op­ti­con of the control room. The rhythm of beeping tills when products are scanned becomes louder and louder until human faces disappear in the blur…until the cashier is observed making a mistake. She swipes her own loyalty card to reduce customers’ bills if they forget theirs or don’t have any at all. This small act of human kindness leads to an intense inter­ro­ga­ti­on, in which the cashier initially denies any impro­prie­ty until the overseer asks Lindon to play the clip recording the “error” and “injustice”, as the overseer calls it. The overseer makes one low-level employee expose another low-level employee, dis­credi­t­ing the trusting class soli­da­ri­ty that is visible between them. Loyalty points are only for loyal customers with a loyalty card. For the cor­po­ra­ti­on this thinking should be innate, but the cashier defends herself by playing into the employer’s ste­reo­ty­pe of her as a silly, unedu­ca­ted woman: “We didn’t receive any training on loyalty cards, no training on loyalty”. [3]

Finally, all films expe­ri­ment with the concept, the iden­ti­fi­ca­ti­on and the location of respon­si­bi­li­ty. In “Another World” the acting is very good, even if Lindon seems a bit too rough for the role of a rehearsed, polished, imper­so­nal CEO. This CEO takes per­for­mance enhancing drugs in the bathroom, washes his hands as meti­cu­lous­ly as possible after firing people and then takes sleeping pills to numb his con­sci­ence in the evening. Ever­ything seems arti­fi­cial. The rela­ti­ons­hip with his pale, tense wife (perfectly cast with the Breton Sandrine Kiberlain) has also been reduced to practical, tran­sac­tio­n­al con­ver­sa­ti­ons. When the wife asks repeated­ly when they could go on holiday, Lindon says, “I told you in advance that, as long as the group hasn’t decided, it will be difficult”. The husband cannot decide as long as he is in the company’s grip.  Kiberlain responds perfectly to expose the transfer of respon­si­bi­li­ty: “The group, the group… and what about me? I am married to the Elsonn group!”.[4]

The group guides all decisions, even the most painful ones. The group is pro­fi­ta­ble. Why fire people when the business is pro­fi­ta­ble? Because it may not be pro­fi­ta­ble enough. The Elsonn group made a profit of 3.5 % in the year preceding the strike – 14 million Euros – and yet, the target was 7 %. If the annual per­for­mance was below target, all employees must get ready for cuts. When the CEO is asked directly why jobs must be cut even though there was an increase in share­hol­der value, Lindon responds like a brain­wa­s­hed soldier: “You raise a question to which the group has neither asked us to respond, nor to think about.”[5] No respon­ding, no thinking. No human inter­ven­ti­on is permitted in the unstopp­a­ble logic of capi­ta­list growth.

Lindon is excellent in all three films, but his per­for­mance in “At War” is out­stan­ding. The broad frame, the rough voice and the volcanic fire in his eyes make the whole film sizzle with energy. The Brecht quote at the beginning of the film seems to have infused his whole body: “Those who fight, may lose; but those who don’t fight at all have already lost.”[6]  Any attempt to fight is com­mend­a­ble in principle, but the methods vary widely. The union leader makes clear that the big cor­po­ra­ti­ons, no matter their dis­agree­ments, are sticking together. At the beginning, the Perrin Indus­tries employees are united too – one ’cadre’ (uni­ver­si­ty-educated knowledge worker) even joins the manual workers in suit and tie amidst the flaming factory. As the strike continues, however, ‘fac­tio­n­a­lism’ appears. A subgroup has been talking to the manage­ment about a sett­le­ment payment to end the gridlock. They even managed to haggle the initial offer of the group up from 17,000 to 25,000 Euros per employee – a suc­cess­ful fight of sorts. Some are impressed and find the offer attrac­ti­ve; others are sceptical of this sub­mis­si­on to “bribery” and expose the trick: „I don’t fight for the sett­le­ment. I fight for a cheque which we will all get every single month!” “[7]  Import­ant­ly, in French the special sett­le­ment is called “la supra­lé­ga­le” – an agreement not just outside, but above the law.

This sum­ma­ri­ses the power dynamics in all three films: the law provides a framework for all, but those in power can always find ways to cir­cum­vent it. This precarity of the status of human beings in capi­ta­lism – rights­hol­der? master? servant? victim? – is at the heart of Brizé’s trilogy.

Dr. Astrid Hampe-Nathaniel is a policy con­sul­tant with a focus on education and labour market policies. She has lived in Austria, France, the UK and the US, which allowed her to see different forms of capi­ta­lism firsthand.

[1] “Monsieur a déjà accepté le divorce. Du coup, on ne peut pas tout lui imposer et il ne peut pas tout accepter.” – “Ma cliente…son quotidien est devenu un enfer” A l’époque, je n’ai pas signé pour que tu ramènes tous tes problèmes à la maison !“
[2] “Ça serait comme si… comme si tout ce qu’on avait fait, ça sert à rien! A mon âge, être locataire – c’est… non!“
[3] “On n’a pas reçu de formation sur les cartes de fidélité, pas de formation sur la fidélité”.
[4] “Le groupe, le groupe… et moi ? Je suis mariée au groupe Elsonn!”
[5] “Tu poses une question à laquelle le groupe ne nous a demandé ni de répondre, ni de réfléchir.”
[6] “Wer kämpft, kann verlieren; aber wer gar nicht kämpft, der hat bereits verloren”.
[7] Je ne me bats pas pour la supra­lé­ga­le! Je me bats pour un chèque qu‘on va tous toucher chaque mois!”.