FILM REVIEW: DA 5 BLOODS

With Da 5 Bloods, Spike Lee has made one of his most powerful and thematically complex films. Da 5 Bloods is not only an effort to give typically suppressed minority voices in war films a much more prominent role, but it also deals with such issues as intergenerational conflict, family strife, and the evolving nature of social change from the 1960s to the current era. Stylistically, Lee employs varying film stocks and aspect ratios to tell a dynamic and compelling story about how war can destroy a person and a country, but also result in much needed reform for a better future.

Opening in modern times, Da 5 Bloods is about four African-American Vietnam War vets who return to Vietnam as older adults on a mission to find the remains of their fallen squad leader Norman (Chadwick Boseman), and also to locate a buried chest of gold bars that they left behind during the war. The four veterans are Paul (Delroy Lindo), Melvin (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), Otis (Clarke Peters), and Eddie (Norm Lewis), and the main focus of the film is on Paul and his inability to completely resolve his post-traumatic stress disorder from after the war. Paul's estranged college aged son David (Jonathan Majors) joins the squad on their journey, along with Vinh (Johnny Tri Nguye), their Vietnamese guide.  

One of the most important aspects of Da 5 Bloods is Lee's decision to cast minorities (African-Americans as well as Asians) in leading roles. There's the aforementioned African-American leads, who all give powerfully nuanced performances, but there's also the Asian roles that Lee gives important roles to. Throughout the film, Lee cuts to Hanoi Hannah (Van Veronica Ngo), a disc jokey who uses her radio show to voice her support for the African-American soldiers fighting in Vietnam. Otis visits his former girlfriend Tien (Le Y Lan), a savvy and successful businesswoman, who it is revealed has a now adult daughter with Otis. The guide Vinh is portrayed as a strong and confident man who provides a steady hand for the squad during their journey.

By doing this, Lee is showing the interconnected cultural and at times personal (Otis, Tien, and their mixed-race daughter) connections between both African-Americans and Vietnamese. Both of these races were caught in an American-led conflict that sought to oppress them and destroy their lives. Da 5 Bloods, with its portraits of minority characters trying to rebuild their lives after the devastating Vietnam war, is Lee's attempt to empower those who were formerly forgotten and exploited by colonialist and imperialist forces. 

The Vietnam war was ultimately an American venture that was supported by French colonialist, who viewed Vietnam as being a country they wanted to conquer for their own. This aspect of the war is cleverly symbolized by the character of Desroche (Jean Reno), a morally shady French businessman who has volunteered to help the soldiers to illegally export their buried treasure safely out of Vietnam, although the soldiers continuously question his ulterior motives. Near the end of the film, we see Desroche wearing a Make America Great Hat, and he is purposefully made up to look like a carbon copy of Donald Trump. Without giving anything away, Desroche is portrayed as seeming to be more interested in maintaing power than helping the former soldiers. Lee is revealing how the oppression of minorities by Western powers still continues in the modern era, far after the Vietnam War has ended.

The hate fueled by the Trump administration is revealed in the lead character of Paul, who is an ardent Trump supporter who views outsiders (including the Vietnamese) as hostile forces, and Paul's every action seems driven by this animosity. By contrast, the other ex-soldiers are revealed as being more open-minded and accepting of others, and even eventually welcome in a rag-tag group of people from other ethnicities into their circle. Indeed, the last half of Da 5 Bloods reveals the separate paths Paul and his companions take in their journey; Paul becomes consumed by hatred and an indomitable need for power over others, while the other members of the squadron work together with an ethnically diverse group of outsiders to maintain peace and harmony. 

It's no coincidence that Da 5 Bloods culminates with Paul alone and separated from his group, while his racially eclectic companions end up in a tranquil Buddhist temple. This schism reflects the state of modern day America under Trump, with half the country living in a state of constant loathing towards outsiders, and the other half living in harmony with different races and genders. This concept of peaceful inter-race relations is best exemplified with Da 5 Bloods' subplot of Otis reuniting with Tien, and finally meeting and welcoming in his mixed race daughter into his life. Lee reveals that this state of harmony is also generational, as Paul's son David ends up siding with and being accepted by the more peace-loving group.

All of these thematic concerns would not work if Lee had made a film that wasn't aesthetically accomplished, and Da 5 Bloods is also a major cinematic achievement. Lee blends various styles of filmmaking, mixing newsreel footage from historical sources, along with different frame rates and film stocks, to create an astonishing and powerfully effective montage of race relations and generational conflict from the 1960s Civil Rights era, all the way up to the modern day Black Lives Matter movement. Da 5 Bloods is an urgent call for peace and love in a modern era that has become consumed with xenophobia and hate under a President that stokes these malicious flames. By connecting the current era with the turmoil of the past, Lee is guiding us into a future hopefully filled with more love and understanding for our fellow human beings. 

  

FILM REVIEW: EL PEPE--A SUPREME LIFE

Throughout his career, Emir Kusturca has always been drawn to stories about utopian dreamers and outlaws, so it's no surprise that he would make El Pepe: A Supreme Life (2018), a documentary about former Uruguayan President Jose "Pepe" Mujica.  Like the charismatic protagonists from Kusturica's films like Underground and Black Cat, White Car, Pepe Mujica was a revolutionary who worked from the margins of society to upend the dominant social order.  And, as in his previous films, El Pepe: A Supreme Life is very much a celebration of life and the human spirit amidst seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

El Pepe: A Supreme Life was filmed after Pepe Mujica retired from his Presidency, which lasted from 2010 to 2015.  As the President of Uruguay, Mujica was known as a plain-spoken "man of the people" and social rights reformer; he was able to reduce the national poverty rate from 40% to 11%, the unemployment rate from 13% to 7%, and he raised the minimum wage by 250%. Before his became President, Mujica was a guerilla fighter as a member of the MLN-Tupamaros movement during the 1960s and 1970s, when he fought against the authoritarian Presidency of Jorge Pacheco Areco. During this period, Mujica met Lucia Topolansky, a fellow revolutionary fighter who would become Mujica's lifelong companion and partner (Topolansky would go on to serve as the Vice President of Uruguay from 2017 to 2020). As a result of his guerilla activity, Mujica was eventually aprehended by the authorities and spent over 10 years in prison.

All of this biographical detail is covered in Kusturica's documentary, as he mixes archival footage with modern day recollections of his life by Mujica himself.  As the film opens, we see Kusturica and Mujica sitting outside Mujica's garden, as Mujica silently prepares a drink for the two of them. Indeed, what makes El Pepe such a fascinating film is Kusturica's combination of intimate personal details about the post-Presidential life of Mujica, with narration about his fascinating guerilla years and rise to the Presidency.

We see Mujica reflect on his regrets, such as never having had the opportunity to have his own children, as well as his thoughts on the state of the modern world, which he sees as being consumed by capitalism and greed. By following Mujica around in his daily life, such as visiting the construction and eventual opening of housing and a new school for those living in poverty, Kusturica and Mujica himself invite us as viewers into his altruistic worldview. For Mujica, money is not important, as he donates 90% of his post-Presidential salary to efforts to help out the poor.  Instead, what he values most, and what Kusturica himself does also in his own films, is a vision for a more equitable sense of community on a global level.

After his own country of Yugoslavia was torn apart by the Bosnian War during the 1990s, Kusturica became an exile from his own country after many accused his film Underground of being pro-Serbian propaganda.  Since then, Kusturica has tried to regain a sense of belonging in his native homeland by building his own village in Serbia.  This village, named Kustendorf, was created as a utopian vision of (in the words of Kusturica himself), "an open place with cultural diversity which sets up against globalization."  In this sense, we can see why Kusturica was drawn to creating a documentary about Mujica, as he saw a fellow utopian visionary in the former President of Uruguay.

Like the history of Yugolslavia itself, Kusturica saw Mujica's ascension to the Presidency as a long and arduous path to heal a country torn apart by violent strife.  And, after trying his best to unite the various factions of his country into one united whole, Mujica spent his post-Presidential years continuing his utopian vision of the world with his efforts to help out those living in poverty in Uruguay.  Throughout El Pepe, Kusturica keeps the camera at a deeply intimate and close level, allowing us as viewers to become fully engulfed in the unique and inviting society that Mujica is creating before our own eyes.

Throughout his tumultous life, the one constant in Mujica's life was his lifelong partner Topolansky, an extraordinary woman who was not only Mujica's political adviser and confidant, but also his soulmate.  This is the most touching aspect of El Pepe, as Kusturica reveals the deep love and connection the couple have for each other, from their early years as guerilla fighters in the 1960s, through their years as the leaders of Uruguay, and into their twilight years as an older couple enjoying each other's company.

El Pepe ends with a very moving visit Topolansky and Mujica pay to a restuarant, where they are serenaded by a band, as onlookers watch on.  It is personal and intimate details like this that make El Pepe such a powerful and emotional documentary.  Although it is very much a political portrait of a country and its history, El Pepe is ultimately the story of a man and a woman whose love and respect for each other sustains them into the last years of their lives.  Although both Topolansky and Mujica are still alive at the time of the making of El Pepe, Mujica acknowledges in the film that he feels like his life is coming to an end.  But, with Kusturica's deeply humanistic and poignant film El Pepe, we can only hope that Mujica's message will continue to inspire future generations.

FILM REVIEW: TOKYO TRIBE

Sion Sono has spent his entire career pushing the boundaries of sex and violence in cinema. He doesn’t do this simply to be a provocateur; instead, Sono is confronting viewers to sympathize with those in the margins of society whom we usually shun. Through his portraits of prostitutes, gangsters, and criminals, Sono is like a modern day Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and like Fassbinder, Sono wants to shed light on the dark corners of the human soul to give voice to the voiceless.

With Tokyo Tribe (2014), Sono is exploring the lives of youth who turn to gangsterism because it offers an outlet for creative expression for them. Rap and hip-hop music is rooted in the culture of inner city gangs in the African-American community, but Sono is viewing how Asian youth gangs take on this art form. Based on the popular manga series by Santa Inoue, Tokyo Tribe is the story of a turf war between various gangs in an alternate, futuristic Tokyo. The main players in this war are Show (Shōta Shometani), Sunmi (Nana Seino), Young Dais (Kai Deguchi), Mera (Ryōhei Suzuki), and Buppa (Riki Takeuchi). Each of these characters take on a prominent role in their respective gangs.

Tokyo Tribe is one of Sion Dino’s most expensive productions, and it shows in the intricately elaborate set design with its pop-art-like, bright color palette that recalls early MTV music videos and the paintings of outlaw graffiti artists like Daze and Banksy. There are gold-plated tanks, chainsaw-like bazookas, and a sort of human installation sculpture garden that recalls Salo and A Clockwork Orange. Also, Tokyo Tribe wouldn’t be a Sion Sono film without its share of over-the-top violence, including an absolutely bonkers musical fight sequence that ends with a giant, flesh shredding fan.

The cinematography in Tokyo Tribe, courtesy of Daisuke Sōma, vividly captures the throbbing energy of Sion Sono’s vision. The opening crane shot (filmed in a single, long uninterrupted cut) follows the character Show as he guides the viewer through a vibrant Tokyo cityscape at night, filled with vagrant youth, scantily clad prostitutes, and a DJ’ing grandma. Like his previous masterpiece Love Exposure, the camera moves freely through space and time, mirroring the many exhilarating and expertly staged fights sequences and musical numbers.

All of this technical bravado wouldn’t mean anything if it wasn’t in the service of a deeper purpose, and Tokyo Tribe is indeed more than just an exercise in style over substance. Ultimately, Tokyo Tribe is about the power of youthful idealism over nihilism. The battle between the various gangs in the film is a battle of light over darkness, of hope over fashionable pessimism. Sono reveals how the garishly violent Buppa and his gang only perpetuates an endless cycle of death and destruction, while the more optimistic characters of Show and Sunmi lead the turf war forward towards peace and love.

Indeed, the youth gang represented by Show, Sunmi, and Young Dais spend their time in the film at a 1950s style, brightly colored cafe, where they use hip-hop to celebrate positivity and love for each other. This contrasts with Buppa’s dark and bloody lifestyle, which is filled with gratuitous sex and violence, as most blatantly symbolized by his tendency towards cannibalism. Also, Buppa’s mansion is filled with instruments of death and torture, which contrasts sharply with the serenity of the youth cafe.

Tokyo Tribe ends on a wave of positive energy as Show leads a group of youth in an invigorating and uplifting hip-hop musical number about love and solidarity. By doing so, Sono is contrasting the criminal landscape of Tokyo we see at the opening crane shot sequence with a more hopeful conclusion. It is no coincidence that Buppa and his tribe are older than the gangs represented by Show and Sunmi. Like Jean-Luc Godard’s Masculin Feminin, Tokyo Tribe is a celebration of the power of youthful idealism over aging cynicism and disenchantment.

FILM REVIEW: THE GREAT BUDDHA+

I saw the Taiwanese film The Great Buddha+ (2017) during a visit to Taiwan in 2017, and I still haven’t forgotten about it. The Great Buddha+ is the clever and dryly amusing feature debut film of Huang Hsin-yao, a former documentary filmmaker. It was shortlisted for the 2018 Best Foreign Film Academy Awards category, and won several international awards, including Best Film from mainland China and Taiwan at the Hong Kong Film Awards, and six Golden Horse Awards.

What makes The Great Buddha+ such a remarkable film is its skillful mixture of satiric comedy and social commentary on class relations in modern day Taiwan. It is the story of a night security guard and his bumbling friend (who go by the names of Pickle and Belly Button) both of whom live in poverty and work for Kevin, a wealthy businessman who owns a Buddha statue manufacturing factory. One night, out of boredom, the two friends start investigating the dashcam footage of their boss’ car, and in the process discover dark hidden secrets about the businessman’s nighttime activities.

While this plot summary makes The Great Buddha+ sound like a traditional thriller, the way the film is shot is much more interesting. Huang, with his background in documentary film, lets the scenes play out naturally, as if he was observing real life without any cinematic artifice. We observe the day to day lives of the two main characters, as they find ways to get by while living on the margins of society.  Belly Button spends his days scavenging for items to recycle for money, and Pickle finds ways to keep his wealthy boss Kevin happy, while amusingly trying to find the right time to ask for a raise.

The humor in The Great Buddha+ comes from the sometimes absurd dialogue and darkly funny situations, such as a scene where Pickle gets cheated into buying a pair of sunglasses that he doesn’t need. Indeed, much of The Great Buddha+ is about power relations and dynamics between Pickle and his businessman boss Kevin, and between Pickle himself and his friend Belly Button. The laconic and droll humor of The Great Buddha+ is reminiscent of Aki Kaurismaki, who also makes films that examine the plight of those whom society traditionally ignores.

The tone of The Great Buddha+ gradually changes as Pickle and Belly Button start exploring the dashcam footage of Kevin, which evolves from late night dalliances with his mistresses to much darker matters. These scenes with Kevin’s activities play out in a unique manner, as they are shown through dashcam footage played out in realtime; we hear audio of the boss talking and seducing the different women he has affairs with, but we only see the road ahead as the car drives through the daytime and nighttime streets. Viewers are forced to imagine what they are hearing, which makes the later turn into more disturbing discoveries even more effective.

Without giving anything away, by the time that Pickle and Belly Button have discovered the dark, hidden secrets of Kevin’s nighttime sojourns, The Great Buddha+ effectively turns into a thriller of sorts. However, there is no bombastic music to pummel you with suspense; instead, Huang continues to observe the daily lives of his characters with the same non-obtrusive documentary-like manner. Pickle and Belly Button, who have spent much of the film looking up to and admiring the wealthy Kevin, now see him for the despicable person that he actually is.

By quietly and patiently letting the story of his characters play out naturally, Huang rewards the audience with an emotionally powerful climax that has deeper resonance. While the world is filled with those who struggle to get by, such as Pickle and Belly Button, and those who prey on others to obtain great financial wealth and power, like Kevin, in the end everyone meets the same fate. The Great Buddha+ ends with a Buddhist ceremony taking place, as if to memorialize the lives of its characters. Although those who are less fortunate may be forgotten and ignored during their lives, Huang is showing that they too are still human, and their story is just as important as that of the rich and the powerful.

FILM REVIEW: ATLANTICS

Atlantics (2019) is a mysterious and beguiling film that completely draws the viewer into its hypnotic spell. Directed by the Senegalese/French filmmaker Mati Diop, the niece of the legendary Djibril Diop Mambéty, Atlantics begins as a love story that turns into something much more enigmatic and complex. Diop keeps revealing more layers of meaning and surprises as Atlantics progresses, culminating in a touching and powerful coda.

Set in the capital city of Dakar in Senegal, Atlantics is the story of Ada (Mame Bineta Sane), a young woman who is in love with Souleiman (Ibrahima Traoré), but is bethrothed to marry the wealthy Omar (Babacar Sylla). After Souleiman is unable to get paid for his work at a construction company, he resorts to the desperate measure of taking a boat with his coworkers to Spain to find employment. Without giving anything away, the risky boat trip sets into motion a series of mysterious and supernatural events for Ada and her seaside community.

By calling her protagonist Ada, Diop alludes to Jane Campion’s The Piano. Like Campion’s protagonist in The Piano, Ada in Atlantics is a strong-willed woman who engages in a forbidden love affair. Also like the protagonists in Campion’s Bright Star and Top of the Lake, Ada is forever seeking a way out of her restrictive, male-dominated society, and in the process define her own identity as a woman.

Another similarity to The Piano is the important role of the ocean and nature in Atlantics. Throughout the film, Diop focuses her camera on the vast and majestic Atlantic Ocean. For the characters in Atlantics, the ocean is both a symbol of escape, and also a harbinger of tragedy. Souleiman seeks a better future for himself by escaping across the ocean, while Ada views the ocean as something that traps her within her family and unwanted marriage. Throughout Atlantics, Diop reveals how confined Ada feels, by framing her through fences and other man-made barriers. Ada’s only form of solace is a night club where she regularly goes with her friends.

Diop’s use of color and sound creates both a comforting and at times threatening environment, mirroring Ada’s journey through the film. When Ada is at the club, she is bathed in an otherworldly green light, while we hear the powerful waves of the ocean in the background. Indeed, Diop regularly cuts to alternatingly calm and ominous shots of the ocean, depending on Ada’s situation. Diop is more interested in creating a certain mood and tone than telling a straightforward narrative, and she successfully envelopes the viewer in her visually poetic world. Cinema is a primarily visual medium, and Diop has a complete mastery over this aspect of film.

With Atlantics, Diop carefully weaves an enchanting and at times eerie tale of doomed love and female empowerment. Although Ada struggles against many outside forces which try to control her, the concluding shot of Atlantics shows Ada coming to a satisfying self-realization. Spirits and ghosts appear throughout Atlantics, doomed lovers reunite, family members and friends argue and reconcile with each other, and all this is masterfully crafted by Diop; she is truly an exciting and powerful talent to watch.

FILM REVIEW: PERSONAL SHOPPER

Most supernatural ghost films function to provide visceral scares and thrills to the audience. With Personal Shopper (2016), Olivier Assayas is attempting to create a more cerebral and introspective ghost story, whose function is more to shed light on the psychological aspects of the supernatural realm rather than simply frighten the audience with jump scares. Anchored by a subtly powerful performance from Kristen Stewart, Personal Shopper is an unsettling experience that wants to disturb us more with the human realm rather than spectral apparitions.

In the film, Kristen Stewart plays Kyra, an American personal shopper for a supermodel in Paris. After the recent death of her twin brother from a heart condition, Kyra visits her late brother’s mansion to try to arrange its sale. The buyers of the property are concerned that the mansion may be haunted, so Kyra, who has a lifelong interest in the supernatural realm, decides to investigate the house. After spending a night in the mansion, Kyra may or may not be haunted by a supernatural entity as she tries to go on with her regular life.

Personal Shopper follows Kyra through her daily activities in a detached, observational manner. When Assayas reveals glimpses of what may be a ghostly presence, he does so in a purposefully ambiguous manner to question whether what we are seeing is real or just a figment of Kyra’s imagination. Indeed, as the film progresses, Assayas reveals how Kyra is gradually becoming more and more detached from the real world through the twin factors of her demanding boss and the recent death of her brother, whom she was close to.

Throughout the film, Assayas constantly subverts the viewers’ perception of reality. In one sequence, Kyra starts receiving unusual texts from an unknown person, which plays with her admiration for and jealousy for her boss. The texts are a sort of psychological game to get Kyra to defy the orders of her boss and potentially get her fired from her job. Are the texts from a real person, from the ghostly presence at her brother’s mansion, or just Kyra’s steadily fragmented grasp on her own sanity?

In a traditional supernatural film, we would see explicit manifestations of ghostly figures haunting their victims. But, with Personal Shopper Assayas is more interested in exploring the more mundane everyday life of someone who may or may not be haunted. There are long, quiet scenes of Kyra going about the daily duties of her job as a personal shopper, or getting dressed and undressed to go to sleep. By doing so, Assayas is planting his supernatural story in the most prosaic manner possible so that we are focusing as Kyra as a person rather than as some form of spiritual medium.

Indeed, the very banal nature of the film’s title itself suggests that Assayas wants to strip away all forms of sensationalism in his film. This has been something Assayas has been working towards his whole career— after more technically flashy films like Irma Vep, Demon Lover, and Boarding Gate, Assayas started to ground his films in a more naturalistic manner beginning with Summer Hours. Assayas isn’t interested in making a traditional genre picture. Instead, he wants to use the ghost story genre to tell a grounded story of a few days in the life of a young woman.

Hence, as the title suggests, Assayas is interested more in the personal realm than the supernatural realm. Kyra is not a person who has been haunted by and possibly possessed by a ghost. Rather, she is a traumatized person who is trying to regain hold of her life after the death of her beloved twin brother. Personal Shopper is less about thrilling us with loud scenes of screaming ghosts, and more about us seeing how a person can overcome grief and despair to find comfort and solace.

FILM REVIEW: NON-FICTION

The digital era has increasingly altered traditional ways of creating art, causing a schism between traditionalists and the newer generation of artists. This conflict between the old and the new is explored in Olivier Assayas’ film Non-Fiction (2018), a deft and clever relationship comedy-drama about a group of friends working in the publishing industry. As a filmmaker, Olivier Assayas has been very eclectic, making everything from French New Wave inspired art films like Irma Vep and Demon Lover to epic political thrillers like Carlos. Now, with Non-Fiction, Assayas is paying homage to Eric Rohmer’s comedy of manners, but updating it for the digital age.

Non-Fiction is the story of a struggling writer (Léonard Spiegel, played by Vincent Macaigne) and his strained relationship with his publisher and friend (Alain Danielson, played by Guillaume Canet).  Vincent and Alain are locked in a power struggle about the publication of his latest novel Full Stop, which is intensified by Vincent’s affair with Alain’s wife Selena (Juliette Binoche), who plays a fictional version of herself as a famous aging actress. In the meantime, Vincent is having relationship problems with his own wife Valérie (Nora Hamzawi), who suspects Vincent of having an affair, and Alain is also having an affair with Laure (Christa Théret), a young woman he hires to help bring his publishing company into the digital era.

This complicated series of extra-marital affairs never gets bogged down into soap operatic melodrama. Rather, like the films of Rohmer, Non-Fiction is a bitingly funny exploration of the intricate power dynamics between men and women in and out of love. On this level alone, Non-Fiction succeeds as a realistic portrayal of the complex emotions that accompany every marriage, and the bonds that both threaten to tear relationships apart and bind them together even stronger. 

Unlike an American film, Assayas doesn’t explore infidelity from a purely moral perspective. Instead, Assayas examines how emotions between men and women change over time, and how this can lead them to seek other partners to satisfy their needs. By the end of the film, there is no definitive resolution for the infidelities of the main characters; instead, just like in the real world, things are left unresolved and messy.

As the title itself suggests, Non-Fiction is also about the tenuous nature of truth in the publishing industry. Vincent writes novels that he categorizes as fiction, but at the same time they are clearly autobiographical in nature, as he writes characters and situations that are based of his own convoluted personal life. Also, the relevance of the novel as a written form in the modern era is challenged throughout the film by Laure. She continuously encourages Alain to steer away from publishing novels like the ones which Vincent writes, and focus more on monetizing online forms of writing, such as blogs and content for E-books.

With Non-Fiction, Assayas is asking us to re-evaluate monetary success as an end-all. Should Alain sell out his publishing company to an E-commerce company which will transform it into the digital future which Laure revealed to him, or keep publishing his friend Vincent’s novels? In an era in which the definition of what constitutes literature is constantly changing as a result of digitization and the new demands of E-commerce, how can we as a society preserve traditional novels as an art form?

Alain must choose between cashing in his company’s work to the unnamed tech giant (as symbolized by his extra-marital affair with the digital guru Laure), or preserving his personal relationships with his wife Selena and his friend Vincent. Assayas doesn’t offer an absolute resolution to this dilemma, or any neatly tied up conclusions to Non-Fiction’s various plot strands. Instead, through the story of his characters and their complicated love lives, Assayas suggests that the only thing that does remain constant in the rapidly changing digital era is the genuine love between couples and friends.