French director Léonor Serraille’s third feature Ari is the portrait of an über-sensitive young man who ponders his place in the world while looking up people from his past to hold conversations that were never had. If this sounds like the premise for a parody of talky French dramas, for a while it really does suggest one––until the perceived tropes and stereotypes fall away to reveal a raw, humanist core that’s anything but clichéd.
Ari (Andranic Manet) is a 27-year-old trainee teacher. We see early on that he’s awkward around children, at one point collapsing in class. After an ensuing argument with his father, he gets kicked out of the home where he still lives. With his career in question and no place to stay, Ari finds himself in a pre-midlife crisis, forced to rekindle friendships and explain himself to people he’s cut off along the way. Through these encounters––some cordial, some strained or downright confrontational––we pick up clues that unlock the beautiful mystery of a most ordinary life.
Again: this is a very French film. People chat, debate, argue a lot. They communicate every tiny emotion that ripples through their head using the minutely descriptive vocabulary that seems only available in French. The lengthy dialogues may trigger allergic reactions in some viewers, yet it must be said that Serraille’s screenplay is quite a remarkable piece of writing. Without resorting to exposition, she builds the central character via his conversations with others. We learn about the early death of his mother, his views on succeeding in life so as to provide for his family, and the failed relationship with a girlfriend who got pregnant. None of it is used to expressly explain anything about how Ari turns out, but these details add up to a compelling, deeply intimate profile of the man we see onscreen.
Perhaps even more strikingly, the film never tries convincing one why they should bother with such a quote-unquote loser. It simply presents the hopes and regrets, doubts and confusion of someone trying to do good by himself and those around him. In seeing the choices he has to make and how he must live with the consequences, you realize how each person’s journey is precious and profound. Towards film’s end there’s a surprise revelation involving the child that Ari never had. It’s a testament to the script’s power that by then one feels so invested that the tenderness of this moment is almost too much to bear.
Another scene exemplifying Serraille’s skills and instincts depicts the chance encounter between Ari and a gardener at his friend’s seaside villa. The two straight men meet under somewhat unusual circumstances and vibes go from suspicious to curious and flirtatious faster than you’d expect. Ultimately nothing more than a kiss comes of the exchange and both participants can happily go back to their heterosexual lifestyles, but the wonderfully written scene not only showcases Serraille’s observant eye and naturalistic touch––it reminds one how silly it is for us to have rules about how we may experience pleasure when so much of our lives is spent dealing with hardships and sorrows.
As brilliant as Serraille’s writing is, Ari wouldn’t have worked if it weren’t for the heart and soul Manet brings to his part. This is not an all-around sympathetic character. He’s quite inadequate, not particularly courageous, doesn’t always know the right thing to do or say. He’d sit in front of a painting for two hours trying to figure out what the painter is saying. Or maybe he’s just looking for something to distract him from what he has to face outside the museum? With an open face that exposes his character’s interiority so completely and immediately, Manet embodies Ari down to his very last flaw. The honesty of his performance cuts through the barrage of words and gives the film its emotional center. Even without dramatic outbursts, the scenes where we find out why he made his ex-girlfriend abort their child and when he realizes what she’s telling him when they meet again are so moving they hit you right in the gut.
Running a mere 88 minutes, Ari is a deceptively modest portrait of a seemingly unspectacular protagonist. In truth, however, there’s nothing slight about a film that’s so genuinely interested in the struggles of the everyman, that captures facets of the human experience with such eloquence. Don’t let its Frenchness fool you––this is a real one.
Ari premiered at the 2025 Berlinale.