4.2.24
Falcon Lake poetically illustrates just how utterly terrifying first love can be. In Charlotte Le Bon’s haunting directorial debut, we see death, desire and underage drunkenness collide in the beautiful but sinister surroundings of the lake, a ghost story and rites of passage tale both eerily rolled into one.
The film allows an intimate, fly-on-the-wall observation of Bastien (Joseph Engel) growing besotted with the mysterious Chloe (Sara Montpetit), an older girl with an almost big-sister resonance alongside a muted sexuality As the teens venture deeper into the outdoors together, an ominous feeling sets in as their connection grows deeper. Le Bon perfectly captures the exhilaration and danger of young summer love; with Chloé giving Bastien a taste of adulthood’s pleasures and Bastien allowing her the freedom to be a kid once again.
In by far the film’s best scene, we see Bastien pulled along to a party, where he gets drunk and throws down some impressive dance moves, much to the awe of the crowd. As we see him coming alive and growing in stature, it quickly and sadly dissipates when he sees something across the group that makes him lose his confidence so quickly. I empathised so much with him in this crucial, telling moment. It’s just fantastic for so many reasons but mainly for capturing that spirit of youth that we all long for again as we get older.
Like many great coming-of-age stories, Falcon Lake finds meaning in the blurred areas between the young lovers’ forbidden bond. It’s never lost on them that one is lusting and one is just passing time, which adds a layer of truthful sadness to the whole. Le Bon has crafted a gorgeous, naturalistic teen romance spiked with mystique, thanks to its unsettling location and quivering cinematography; a debut to be truly proud of. The heartbreak of summer love might be an old song, but here it is sung in a darkly beautiful new key.