No flies on these walls

Far from remaining the play things of the arts channels, documentary films became the quirky box-office hits of the last year. The most successful — and probably well-known — of all was Michael Moore's expose of gun culture in America, Bowling For Columbine, which to date has taken some $60m world-wide [1]. Alongside Moore's slightly pessimistic film are those sorts of subjects normally associated with the typical documentary: Cool and Crazy studied a Norwegian male choir; Spellbound followed ten American schoolchildren competing in spelling competitions; and the BAFTA winner for Best British Film, Touching the Void, brought the true story of a life-threatening mountaineering accident to life via interviews with the climbers involved themselves.

Standing alongside all of the above was Être et Avoir, a portrayal of life in a rural, single-class French school under the tuition of a traditional, compassionate and experienced teacher, filmed by Nicholas Philibert over the course of an academic year. This touching year of observation, which allows an adult the chance to watch circumstances so familiar — and yet so forbidden — to them, results not in an idealistic, sickly-sweet example of childhood recollection, but instead a delicate reminder that it is actually quite hard to be a child and that the learning curve is not just some linear experience designed to impart knowledge.

The nature of documentary is such that it develops a sense of the subject area through a treatment of the individuals involved. Hence, Être et Evoir follows the hand-washing of Jojo, the mathematical difficulties of Olivier and his parents (whose consciousness of the camera, quite wonderfully, soon dissipates over discussion of times-tables), the withdrawn nature of Nathalie and, of course, the job of M. Lopez. As a result of this, the viewer feels by the end of the film an attachment to the "characters" beyond that which you would associate with fictional cinema: it is easy to wonder whether Jojo is still behaving like a little imp, or whether M. Lopez has retired yet.

But this attachment is a curious one, for the film-maker could have chosen any one of the hundred or so schools he researched, each with their own Jojos and M. Lopez. As such, then, the documentary film in all its guises — be they quirky or not — ultimately develops a slightly less tangible relationship between viewer and the viewed than the one we at first assume.

With the focus on education in the United Kingdom continuing to linger on league table positions and how the higher education sector will receive the funding it needs, Être et Avoir delivers a simplicity that many will identify as being missing in a target-driven sector. Indeed, if everything were as simple as it is shown here, why is it that things can be so seemingly complicated? The answer, of course, is that providing education for a nation's children is not as simple as ABC, and it is fortunate, therefore, that Philibert's own focus is not on the techniques of teaching and their results, but instead the relationships between teacher and pupil, between old and young, and between children themselves.

The success of the documentary film in 2003 begs the question: what of 2004 and beyond? Can non-fiction continue to captivate audiences whose attention can easily wane at the sight of something a little less original than a predecessor? The answer is beyond a brief look at what the future holds; instead a consideration of whether audiences will be willing to pay money for stories that might not offer the chance of escapism they are looking for — more of a sociological question than a film studies one — might be more appropriate. Yet whilst the genre is within the focus of the industry as a whole, there can be no harm in more film-makers like Philibert taking their chances whilst they can.