Rodeo

Lola Quivoron’s Rodeo utterly defies expectations. The director’s kinetic, visceral, unconventional drama is not a sports movie, although it takes place in the world of dirt biking. Quivoron and Antonia Buresi didn’t write an underdog story, nor a rags-to-riches tale either. It is, first and foremost, a blistering character study, raw in its power and realism, its beats as unpredictable as its protagonist. I’d say buckle up, but dirt bikes don’t have seat belts.

Rodeo is about Julia (Julie Ledru), a young misfit with questionable morals and ambitions. She’s obsessed with dirt bikes, stealing them from unsuspecting eBay sellers. “I was born with a bike between my legs,” she tells one of them before taking off, sticking out her middle finger as she flees. Though Julia seems to care little about money, her family, or anything else but bikes for that matter, she does harbor an ambition: the ultimate heist, Fast & Furious-style.

Soon Julia joins a group of male bikers who work for the mysterious Domino (Sébastien Schroeder), an incarcerated criminal. They steal, renovate, and resell bikes in a garage that, for some, functions as a part-time home. Among this oddball “family” is Kaïs (Yannnnis Lafki), who becomes a mentor of sorts to Julia, despite the reluctance of his brothers to let this borderline feral young woman join their tightly-knit circle. She ends up utilizing her thieving skills for Domino, who sends her on a multitude of dangerous tasks.

Julia visits home, where her brother assists in her scams, while her mother has long since disowned her. The “matriarch” of the gang, Ophélie (Antonia Buresi), turns out to be Domino’s beaten-down wife, following his orders, and running his business when he can’t. A touching bond gradually develops between Julia and Kaïs. This all leads to a grim, enigmatic gut punch of a finale.

“…Julia joins a group of male bikers who work for the mysterious Domino…”

As Rodeo revolves around bikers, the few scenes depicting them in action are astounding. Cinematographer Raphaël Vandenbussche’s camera captures the extended wheelies, the bikers’ exaltation, the speed, and the exhilaration of living life on the edge with verve. Quivoron is equally adept at accentuating things without hammering them into the viewer’s head: the sexism prevalent among an all-male clique (“Ride or go sit with the chicks and wait your turn,” Julia is told early on); Domino’s ironclad grip over his wife and children, despite being stuck in jail.

The filmmaker never condemns or discriminates. She simply portrays the trials and tribulations of the working class through a very specific lens. She demonstrates how poverty and hardship can lead to misguided obsessions and dreams. Money has ceased to mean much to Julia; the anticipation of the next adrenaline rush keeps her going.

With unkempt hair and a rascally smile, Ledru is a force of nature, prone to outbursts of violent anger, both outwardly confident and deeply insecure. “I go by Unknown,” she replies drily when asked her name. When a young man rudely tells her to move, she “blows him out like a birthday candle.” It’s a screen-scorching performance from a newcomer who’s bound to be gracing magazine covers soon.

You’ve never quite seen a film like Rodeo before. A fervent mix of action, pathos, and socially-conscious commentary, its cinematic tires will leave thick skid marks in your head.