The Kid with a Bike, or: The hardships of a child and the strain of a parent

The Kid with a Bike (2011)

Directed by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne

***SPOILERS***

You just may become claustrophobic from watching a Dardenne Brothers film—which is a good thing. While most movies leave us craving more time with the characters, the Dardennes bring the viewer so close to their main characters that it almost feels intrusive or meddlesome. In The Son, our constant close proximity to Olivier (Olivier Gourmet) allows us to feel the pain and strain of his burdening situation—even when we don’t know the cause of such stress. And in The Kid with a Bike, the brothers Dardenne waste no time in recreating such a style. After an opening shot that immediately brings us into the 11-year-old boy Cyril’s (Thomas Doret) world, we’re relentlessly strapped in for an 87-minute whizzing and encompassing ride, where we’ll become all too familiar with a boy’s bike and his red shirt.

The Dardennes, along with their oft-used cinematographer Alain Marcoen, start with a dangerously intimate close-up of Cyril on the telephone, awaiting an answer on the other end. Adults occupy the background in blurry silhouettes, with their muffled voices uttering sentiments of disapproval. Eventually a man comes into focus as he attempts to pry the phone from Cyril’s hands. Cyril reacts violently, and immediately we gain an understanding of his mindset. Unreasonable and stubborn, yes, but more importantly: misunderstood. Regardless if the men are right or wrong about Cyril’s dead-beat dad, they don’t understand Cyril’s strive for approval. These men are just as depicted: cloudy figures in Cyril’s life. When he feels restrained or constricted (where the Dardennes come in), he blocks everyone out. This explains the faucet scene, where Samantha (Cécile De France) repeatedly argues with Cyril to turn the sink off. After an opening shot that depicted Cyril’s vexation in compressing situations, we can feel a sense of Cyril’s discomfort in this scene, despite the Dardennes pulling back for a medium shot capturing both Samantha and Cyril. When Cyril lets out a scream—an act of violence that will repeat itself throughout the film—we see Cyril never acts out when his father oppresses him, but lets the tensions build and build until it erupts, hurting those who care for him. Added to this shot, Samantha, in her radiantly bright clothing, is not blurred, but dominantly stands out. She understands Cyril’s desire to reach his father and even aides him in doing so. This moment, which captures all of these dynamics in a single shot, is the result of contemplated filmmaking on the Dardennes’ part, bringing us into the mindset of the two characters that will dominate the film.

Being one with Cyril presents the Dardennes with an opportunity to illustrate a painfully sympathetic and deserted figure, but it also opens the door for a set of circling imageries and metaphors amidst a rounding narrative that’s as cruel as it is definite. Such a concept is seen at play during a scene where Cyril is driven back home by Samantha and her boyfriend. Cyril is scolded for fraternizing with the local dealer Wes, but the fight soon shifts to between Samantha and her boyfriend. The camera angle is nothing new: the camera sits on the middle armrest, altering back and forth between the driver and passenger. We previously saw the shot depict Cyril in his most dire state: clawing his face and banging his head on the window after his father says goodbye forever. We saw Cyril blissfully happy with Samantha after he’s let his father go, on their way to a Sunday picnic. And we saw him terrified, sitting with Wes on the dark nighttime road, being scolded for botching the robbery. Each scene relates the mood through lighting and the given situation, but more importantly through that watchful Dardenne eye that always keeps too close for comfort. But in this moment, we sit at Cyril’s position. No longer is he the result of cruelty or the beneficiary of a loving mother, but instead watches as his actions tear two people apart. As much as The Kid with a Bike is about Cyril, it’s also about the people he affects along the way, which in turn continually builds the towering burden placed on an 11-year-old’s frail shoulders.

Cyril grows as a person in the process of touching these people’s lives, but he also rounds out the compassing metaphors employed by the Dardennes. Every prop and situation lends an understanding of Cyril, but also bolsters the relentless theme of divisive parental figures, which come in various shapes and forms: Cyril’s father Guy (Jérémie Renier), Samantha, Wes, and the bookseller Cyril attacks with a bat. Each contrasts another, with each tugging at Cyril from different directions. The bookseller is more of an outside force, but also lends the most perspective into each of these parents’ psyches. After the bookseller’s son knocks Cyril down from the tree, he immediately begins thinking of ways to protect his son. So adamant in punishing Cyril for his robbery beforehand, the bookseller’s tone and demeanor shifts. He’s pained by the situation, even outraged at his son, but in the thick of it all, he’s ready to defend him. We see Samantha do the same. After Cyril stabs her with a pair of scissors, she allows Cyril to apologize and takes him in for good. This shared connection between parents is seen when the bookseller picks up the bloody stone that will convict his son for murder, only to hesitate when Cyril’s mobile phone begins to ring. Struck with the pain of losing a son, he shares a beautiful unspoken moment with Samantha that depicts the hardships of a parent and the tough decisions that come with the role.

The recognition on the parent’s part to place their children before themselves even lends its way to Guy, who, despite abandoning Cyril, did it for the betterment of his son. Unable to care for him, Guy quickly recognizes Samantha’s cool control over the erratic Cyril. While maybe not the most audacious decision, it is noble on Guy’s part. In not playing the parent…Guy becomes a very perceptive and gracious one. Guy is more starkly contrasted by Wes, who finally gives Cyril the attention and approval he so desperately craves. Cyril reacts violently when Samantha denies him the opportunity to hang out with Wes—a similar trait only seen during outbursts involving Cyril’s father. Wes is forceful, strict and accepting of Cyril, whereas Samantha is the well-reasoned and lenient mother figure that displays a nonchalant understanding of Cyril’s problems. Each counters the other, with Wes’ attraction more intoxicating due to its striking relation to Guy, thus leading Cyril down an abused path of violence that puts his own capricious mindset at ease.

But once abandoned by Wes, Cyril’s escape to his father’s restaurant represents a final shift for Cyril, where he gains an understanding of who truly cares for him. Shoving the stolen money into his father’s hands, we see Cyril attempting to help his father—not help himself. This selfless act isn’t for visiting hours, but to gain a sense of closure. And in a fleetingly magnificent shot, we witness Cyril leave his father’s restaurant on his ever-present bike—the same bike that will forever remain Cyril’s sole link to his father. Empty of music or interruption, Cyril simply glides down the street in the nighttime air. We only hear his panting and the gears of his bike adjusting. Such a shot contrasts an earlier image in the daylight, full of patrons and buzzing from traffic, which occurred just before Cyril met Wes, thus completing the cycle. There's a sense of comfort that separates these two scenes, relating Cyril finally calming down and realizing his situation. As Cyril travels further and further away from Guy, we feel him getting closer and closer to Samantha. When he finally reaches Samantha, she says, “Put your bike away.” Without hesitation, Cyril guides his bike into a pen and closes the gate, thus closing the door on his father as well. He walks up to Samantha and asks to live with her, with her answer, of course, being “Yes.” Cyril’s understanding of Samantha’s role in his life is a beautiful moment, and one set up by the Dardenne brothers early in the film. As Cyril runs from the counselors who could never understand him, he grabs hold of Samantha, then a random bystander. Unperturbed and sensitive towards the clearly disturbed Cyril, she simply says:

“You can hold, but not so tight.”

Cyril, who was so adamant in gaining a father figure with both Guy and Wes, finally loosens his hold during that seemingly endless bike ride. And all at once, the boy in the red shirt doesn’t seem so young. Sticking out like a sore thumb, Cyril was lost among a crowd of people who simply didn’t understand, but now radiates just like Samantha and her flowery dresses. And seen through it all is the mastery of the Dardenne brothers. Utilizing a transient boy in vibrant clothing, the Dardenne’s graceful tracking camera follows Cyril as he swifts from scene to scene on his father’s bike, effortlessly carrying the narrative and furnishing all its metaphors along the way. The deftness is maintaining so many strings in such a small tale speaks volumes about the Dardennes’ roles as filmmakers—at 60-years young, they’re still pushing the boundaries of filmmaking by seemingly doing very little. And with a trio of exquisite films in a single decade—The Son, L’enfant, and The Kid with a Bike—we can expect their prowess to grow even more.