Two Days, One Night

The quiet precision of the title is telling: this is a film about the subtle measurements of the everyday. With Two Days, One Night, the Dardenne brothers have accomplished the difficult task of making the resolutely ordinary totally compelling. This is in large part thanks to Marion Cotillard's perfectly judged performance as Sandra, an employee at a solar panel factory who finds herself fighting for her job in the aftermath of a nervous breakdown. Hers is the kind of suffering that so often goes  untreated and undocumented, but here its repercussions are brought into sharp focus.

Sandra's period of depression has left her visibly drained -- Cotillard's usual glamour is replaced by dark circles, hollow cheeks, and messily assembled hair. Her whole way of moving is reluctant and pained, making the weekend's demands all the more excruciating. In order to save her job, she must visit each of her co-workers and ask them to vote that she be allowed to stay, sacrificing their bonus in the process.

In the wake of the world's recent economic catastrophes, this reads like a relatively minor dilemma: one woman's job or €1000? But the Dardennes are keenly aware of the moral and practical agonies this very real question can raise. As we follow Sandra from one house to the next, a picture of a shared struggle gradually begins to emerge. Her colleagues' dramatically varied responses -- from violent rejection to tearful support -- reveal a whole scale of ethical ambiguity within a small group of people. The film's unhurried pace creates the impression that each scene, regardless of its significance or intensity, is just part of life's daily dose of victory and loss.

This could lead to accusations of drudgery, and I would be lying if I said there weren't a couple of people fidgeting in their seats. But there were far more entranced by this picture of one woman's effort to hold on to both her job and her integrity. There is a lot at stake for Sandra, and for her family, particularly her husband Manu (Fabrizio Rongione). Their relationship is fraught with pressures like so many -- there are no explosive fights, only one bitter suggestion that they might separate, casually delivered by Sandra. The absence of any melodrama makes these discordant notes all the more powerful.

Although the focus of Sandra's canvassing, Monday morning's vote at the factory is not any great climax. The Dardennes are not interested in big scenes or hysterical set-pieces; their concern is with the human gestures that frame such moments. Glimpses of empathy, humility, and self-sacrifice are the touchstones of this piece, and the story at its core is one that lingers.