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Local France
5 hours ago
- Politics
- Local France
La Belle Vie: How French cities adapt to the climate future
La Belle Vie is our regular look at the real culture of France – from language to cuisine, manners to films. This newsletter is published weekly and you can receive it directly to your inbox, by going to your newsletter preferences in 'My account'. It is hard to avoid a newsfeed of sad stories, from conflict thousands of miles away to extremism closer to home. One story did bring a smile to my face this week - Paris authorities are seeking to give the River Seine 'legal personhood' to protect the river and its fragile ecosystem in the years to come. This sent me down a rabbit hole of learning about the first use of 'legal personhood' for a river. It happened in New Zealand in 2017, and it was a mixture of indigenous Maori beliefs about the river's status as a living entity, plus western legal precedent. The Seine probably won't be granted legal personhood for some time, as it would need parliamentary approval. Nevertheless, it felt like a piece of hope! Paris seeks personhood status for River Seine Interestingly enough, the Paris city council's resolution was made possible thanks to a 'Citizens' Convention' (also called 'citizen councils'), which brought together 50 Parisians at random and asked them to consider the future of the Seine. Advertisement The 'citizen council' tool is another source of hope in our politically polarised world. French President Emmanuel Macron introduced citizen councils in the wake of the Yellow Vest movement, and since then, random French people from across the country have been asked to seriously consider topics like climate change and the right to die . My belief (albeit anecdotal, I don't have any causal statistics to prove this) is that the citizens' conventions have helped to unify French public opinion on previously divisive topics, best exemplified by the high rates of support for assisted dying in cases of incurable illness. EXPLAINED: What are France's 'citizen councils'? I couldn't help but think of another Paris river, long-forgotten, as I was reading about the future of the Seine. Once upon a time, the Bièvre river flowed through southern Paris. Nowadays, it is covered up, with part of it joining the city's rainwater and sewage system, but it was once an important location for the city's tanners and dyers, who set up shop along its banks. Skulls, beer and a 'cathedral': Discover the secrets of underground Paris Paris certainly has changed a lot over the years. I've been reflecting on a post I read on social media recently alleging the city we currently walk through should not be considered historic (I suppose they meant by European standards), as most of the buildings date back to the 19th century, not before. The discussion was related to the creation of the Chatelet-Les Halles transport hub back in the 1970s, and how it feels almost unimaginable to think of a new major transport hub being built in central Paris in 2025. Basically, this person's thesis was that many aspects of Paris that we consider essential (the Eiffel Tower) are relatively new additions. Advertisement Yet, the city is changing before our eyes right now. In another five to 10 years, the Grand Paris Express is set to be finalised, and I can say with confidence that the city feels greener, more walkable (and cyclable) than it did just four years ago. What is a '15-minute city' and how is it working in Paris? But Paris is not the only French city that offers plenty of local amenities within walking distance. It's not even the best - that honour belongs to Grenoble, in eastern France. After that, Nancy and Rennes take second and third place. I wonder if this is part of another trend I have been noticing (I admit I also have no real data to back this up), but I have noticed more of my French friends and acquaintances in their early 30s are talking about moving to Rennes. MAP: Which French cities have the best local amenities close by? Rennes has another thing going for it - green space. It's becoming more important to consider this when considering which French city to live in long-term, or even just visit during the summertime. As heatwaves become more frequent and intense, the urban heat island effect, which basically warms cities more than surrounding rural areas, forces us to think about which cities have invested in parks, trees, and places to shelter from the heat. In Maps: The five worst French cities to spend a heatwave in
Geek Vibes Nation
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Geek Vibes Nation
‘Case 137 (Dossier 137)' Review - An Engaging, Razor-Sharp And Thought-Provoking Portrayal Of Police Repression
The French director Dominik Moll definitely has a love for gripping police stories. After creating the magnificent police thriller The Night of the 12th in 2022, in which police officers are trying to capture a ferocious killer, he's now once again returning to the world of police investigations, violence, and chauvinism. In Case 137 (original title: Dossier 137 ), the tables are turned, though, as this time, the cops are the criminals. Good becomes bad, and bad becomes even worse. The nearly two-hour-long movie, which is a slow-burning portrayal of police repression, brutality, and tension, becomes an immersive experience, during which you will start to question the integrity of the French police and if there's such a thing as a good cop anymore. While Case 137 certainly is a police drama, Moll doesn't overdo it with the dramatic element. Yes, the events happening in this feature are the dramatized version of the Yellow Vest protests in 2018, which led to violent conflicts, many injuries, and arrests in Paris and other major cities. Still, the movie itself isn't an over-the-top drama at all. That is because the filmmaker uses a much slower and organic approach in bringing the story to the big screen. The script by Moll and Gilles Marchand (Only The Animals) is almost a real-time depiction of Stéphanie Bertrand's (Léa Drucker) full-scale investigation. After working in narcotics for the last few years, she had to make the transition to IGPN, the Inspection Générale de la Police Nationale, which is the French equivalent of the Internal Affairs Bureau. Despite being seen as a traitor or being disloyal to her heroic colleagues – especially after they were the first ones on the horrific scenes after the Bataclan attacks – this conscientious police officer doesn't shy away from any case, no matter how much pressure from the outside she's feeling. Léa Drucker as Stéphanie Bertrand and Jonathan Turnbull as Benoit Guérini in 'Case 137' courtesy of Top and Cour Pressure that she's definitely feeling when case 137 lands on her desk. At the heart of it is a violent incident in which a young protester, Guillaume Girard (Côme Peronnet), sustained almost fatal injuries after being hit with flash-balls fired by riot police. Just like during a real-life painstaking investigation, she has to collect CCTV footage from the scene of the attack, interrogate culprits, extract cell phone footage, and gather even more written and visual evidence. On top of that, there's a lot of bureaucratic paperwork, forensic verification, and sceptical news broadcasts she has to deal with. This mix of media gives much more structure and authenticity to the film and the investigation, especially when Stéphanie's evidence is combined with real archival footage. Steadily but slowly, Stéphanie and her IGPN partners Benoit Guérini (Jonathan Turnbull) and Camille Delarue (Mathilde Roehrich) build up the case. As the audience member, you go along with her during every phase of her investigation. You don't have information that Stéphanie doesn't have, and vice versa. Like any long-lasting, meticulously planned investigation, Case 137 evokes important questions. These questions are not only for Stéphanie herself but also for the audience. Should she help her colleagues keep France safe when it's struggling with internal riots instead of interrogating them? Is her job the reason why 'everyone hates the police'? When does passionately gathering evidence become stalking and cutting corners? Those are all questions that arise throughout this feature. On top of that, you also start to question whether Stéphanie is a good mother, especially when she comes home late to spend time with her son. Léa Drucker as Stéphanie Bertrand in 'Case 137' courtesy of Top and Cour Because of many questions and the male-dominated world that's riddled with corruption, sexism, and abuse, she has to be determined, unwavering, and unafraid to stand up for what she believes in, and those characteristics come true in Drucker's ( Up to the Guard , Close) engaging central acting. Her performance oozes the intelligence, headstrongness, and focus of a female officer trying to get justice in a divided and politically biased country. The rest of the supporting cast does an impeccable job as well, especially Turnbull ( Paris Memories ), who offers both the seriousness and the necessary humour, and Guslagie Malanda ( The Beast , Saint-Omer ), whose radiant screen presence as one of the witnesses fills the movie with raw emotions and humanity. What could have been a dry and boring exposition of a police investigation like any other is anything but that. While there are a few moments when the intensity of the story decreases a little bit, the movie ultimately becomes an engaging, razor-sharp, and thought-provoking portrayal of contemporary law enforcement in Paris. Case 137 (Dossier 137) held its World Premiere in the competition section of the 2025 Cannes Film Festival. Director: Dominik Moll Screenwriters: Dominik Moll, Gilles Marchand Rated: NR Runtime: 115m
Time Out
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Photograph: Cannes Film Festival
Back in 2022, The Night of the 12th examined an all-male detective team's attempts to solve the murder of a young woman in a small town and exposed sad truths about how women are perceived and treated. As its title suggests, his new film finds director Dominik Moll delving back into another true life case. This time, the French filmmaker digs into an internal affairs investigation of officers suspected of shooting and badly wounding a young man with rubber bullets at a 2018 Yellow Vest (' gilets jaunes ') demonstration in Paris. Dogged police officer Stephanie Bertrand (a superb Léa Drucker) methodically leads investigators through each aspect of the case, detailing life-changing head injuries that put teenager Guillaume in hospital, assessing the impact on his mother Joëlle and finding out who fired the weapon via tricky interrogations of suspects. She also interviews Guillaume's friend Remi, present at the incident, who has been rapidly charged, tried and jailed for three months for his part in the demonstrations. In a crucial moment, Stephanie takes her team to the road off the Champs-Élysées where the shooting happened, identifying a spot where a witness had a clear view of the event. There's a riveting extended sequence where witness Alicia (a hotel maid played by Saint Omer 's Guslagie Malanda) is tracked down at work, briefly interviewed, and then followed by Stephanie. It also opens up another can of worms entirely: would Stephanie's team have been as tenacious if the victim had been a young man of colour instead? Alicia vehemently suggests otherwise. Would the police have been as tenacious if the victim had been a young man of colour? Race aside, the knotty moral complexities of Stephanie's work set Moll's film above seen-one-seen-'em-all procedurals. Joëlle confronts Stephanie in a supermarket demanding to know why action takes so long. Public distrust and hatred of police is keenly expressed and brought up by Stephanie's son (who tells friends his narcotics division father is a teacher). The father's new girlfriend, another narcotics officer and union member, snarks that cops should concentrate on criminals rather than other cops. There's also the thorny nature of who the suspects are: members of the BAC (anti-terror cops who were considered heroes after the Bataclan nightclub terror attack in 2015) who were helping out on the day of the demo. Stephanie is damned if she does, damned if she doesn't.
Boston Globe
30-04-2025
- Business
- Boston Globe
A French president walks into a bar: Macron mixes in provincial town
Chat the president did, for more than an hour, about health care and jobs and salaries and other day-to-day concerns of an anxious French people. Perched on a bar stool against a backdrop of cigarette packets warning, 'SMOKING DIMINISHES FERTILITY,' he seemed happy to shoot the breeze. It was a break for Macron from building Europe into a credible military power, now that the United States often seems less friend than foe. Some regulars — and the bar has many, especially among retirees — were so shocked that they initially thought he was a Macron doppelgänger. Advertisement 'I was studying the form for a horse racing bet, turned around and was face to face with Macron!' said Jean-Claude Turpault, a farmer. 'Could not believe it. I'd imagined him more arrogant, but he was easy to talk to.' A screen showed horse races. Newspapers hung from a rack, looking like relics. A scratch card game called 'Carats' did a brisk business. Black-and-white postcards were on sale. Macron drank two espressos without sugar at the zinc bar, where people lingered. They were not in a hurry; there was nothing to hurry to. Le Prem's felt like the France of the movies, where romance is kindled in faded bars, minus the smoke. Advertisement Since taking office eight years ago, Macron has struggled to overcome an image of lofty remoteness, which has earned him the sobriquet 'Jupiter.' He has tried, but to little avail, various remedies, including a three-month listening and talking tour of the provinces after the Yellow Vest protests, sparked by a fuel price hike, erupted in 2018. Now, dispensing with the press, with cameras, with his entourage, and with any advance warning, Macron has taken to dropping in solo on random bars, mainly so-called 'PMU bar-tabacs,' the only places in France licensed to sell tobacco and handle betting. They are distinguished by the orange diamond-like symbol on their facades, colloquially known as 'the carrot.' These outlets for gambling on horses and much else, while having a drink and enjoying what's left of community camaraderie, are often among the few commercial survivors in villages and small towns across France. Countless bakeries, cafes, post offices, train stations, banks, and mom-and-pop stores have closed as online retail, big-box hypermarkets, and pressure on municipal budgets have taken a toll. Thouars, a town of 14,000 with a pretty setting on the Thouet river, is no exception. The once bustling Rue St.-Médard at its center is now a procession of shuttered stores. Alexandre Fleveau, a hotel owner, described the main square as 'an airport parking lot' before the centrist mayor, Bernard Paineau, embarked on a bid to 'vegetalize' it with tree plantings and other improvements that, for now, have turned it into a construction site. A new cultural center, offering movies and exhibitions, will open soon. Advertisement 'I pay taxes for all the people here doing nothing, and there are a lot of them,' Jacques said. He is looking to sell the bar and move to the Camargue region in southern France. Macron, with two years left in his presidency, wants to get close, at last, to the French people, who sometimes call him 'extraterrestrial' for his technocratic and intellectual bent. The two French presidents most fondly remembered in recent decades are François Mitterrand and Jacques Chirac, because they demonstrated a bond with the people — and the cattle — of France. The incumbent is aware of this. 'He's looking for more proximity, simplicity, away from the cameras and media pools that make sincerity impossible,' said a close adviser to Macron, who requested the anonymity under which officials at the presidency customarily speak. 'People are worried by Putin, by Trump, by the cost of living, and he has a unique ability to reassure.' For Macron's critics, and there are many, this is no more than 'authenticity in kit form,' as the right-wing JDD Sunday newspaper put it recently. Although he is term-limited and toward the end of his presidency, Macron has assumed a more important role since President Trump took office because he is widely seen in France, and beyond, as one of the most experienced orchestrators of an effective European response to the new American distance from, and contempt for, the Continent. Macron's quest for more contact, as in Thouars, forms part of his push for a rebirth. 'You know a barman has to be a psychologist, a confidant,' said Nicolas Cossard, who works at Le Prem's. 'You listen to people newly widowed, to old people talking about their gardens, their billiards, their Bingo, their car. Macron has been absent for me. But when I shook his hand, my sense was he was not just trying to gain credit.' Advertisement Macron went on to visit Asselin, a local company that has provided beams for the reconstruction of Notre-Dame Cathedral. Thouars is struggling but not moribund. At the bar, life goes on, albeit a little changed. An espresso is now known as a 'petit Macron.' Jacques, warming to his role, said, 'We are awaiting Putin next week.' This article originally appeared in
New York Times
30-04-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
Macron Surprises a Provincial Bar
'Bonjour, Macron!' At Le Prem's, a small bar in western France that sells lottery tickets and tobacco, this greeting has become a running joke since President Emmanuel Macron dropped by unannounced the other day and bought a round of coffee for everyone, save the customers who opted for a bracing midmorning sauvignon blanc. 'He did not come to scratch!' said Christophe Jacques, the cheerful bar owner, alluding to the betting games he offers on scratch cards, where winning numbers are revealed by scratching off an opaque covering. 'He came to chat.' Chat the president did, for more than an hour, about health care and jobs and salaries and other day-to-day concerns of an anxious French people. Perched on a bar stool against a backdrop of cigarette packets warning, 'SMOKING DIMINISHES FERTILITY,' he seemed happy to shoot the breeze. It was a break for Mr. Macron from building Europe into a credible military power, now that the United States often seems less friend than foe. Some regulars — and the bar has many, especially among retirees — were so shocked that they initially thought he was a Macron doppelgänger. 'I was studying the form for a horseracing bet, turned around and was face to face with Macron!' said Jean-Claude Turpault, a farmer. 'Could not believe it. I'd imagined him more arrogant, but he was easy to talk to.' A screen showed horse races. Newspapers hung from a rack, looking like relics. A scratch card game called 'Carats' did a brisk business. Black-and-white postcards were on sale. Mr. Macron drank two espressos without sugar at the zinc bar, where people lingered. They were not in a hurry; there was nothing to hurry to. Le Prem's felt like the France of the movies, where romance is kindled in faded bars, minus the smoke. Since taking office eight years ago, Mr. Macron has struggled to overcome an image of lofty remoteness, which has earned him the sobriquet 'Jupiter.' He has tried, but to little avail, various remedies, including a three-month listening and talking tour of the provinces after the Yellow Vest protests, sparked by a fuel price hike, erupted in 2018. Now, dispensing with the press, with cameras, with his entourage and with any advance warning, Mr. Macron has taken to dropping in solo on random bars, mainly so-called 'PMU bar-tabacs,' the only places in France licensed to sell tobacco and handle betting. They are distinguished by the orange diamond-like symbol on their facades, colloquially known as 'the carrot.' These outlets for gambling on horses and much else, while having a drink and enjoying what's left of community camaraderie, are often among the few commercial survivors in villages and small towns across France. Countless bakeries, cafes, post offices, train stations, banks and Mom-and-Pop stores have closed as online retail, big-box hypermarkets and pressure on municipal budgets have taken a toll. Thouars, a town of 14,000 inhabitants with a pretty setting on the Thouet river, is no exception. The once bustling Rue St.-Médard at its center is now a procession of shuttered stores. Alexandre Fleveau, a hotel owner, described the main square as 'an airport parking lot' before the centrist mayor, Bernard Paineau, embarked on a bid to 'vegetalize' it with tree plantings and other improvements that, for now, have turned it into a construction site. A new cultural center, offering movies and exhibitions, will open soon. 'I pay taxes for all the people here doing nothing, and there are a lot of them,' said Mr. Jacques, the bar owner. He is looking to sell the bar and move to the Camargue region in southern France. Mr. Macron, with two years left in his presidency, wants to get close, at last, to the French people, who sometimes call him 'extraterrestrial' for his technocratic and intellectual bent. The two French presidents most fondly remembered in recent decades are François Mitterrand and Jacques Chirac, because they demonstrated a bond with the people — and the cattle — of France. The incumbent is aware of this. 'He's looking for more proximity, simplicity, away from the cameras and media pools that make sincerity impossible,' said a close adviser to Mr. Macron who requested the anonymity under which officials at the presidency customarily speak. 'People are worried by Putin, by Trump, by the cost of living, and he has a unique ability to reassure.' For Mr. Macron's critics, and there are many, this is no more than 'authenticity in kit form,' as the right-wing JDD Sunday newspaper put it recently. Still, the Macron who pops in at Le Prem's feels different, a man who gives shorter speeches, projects authority in a crisis and devotes greater attention to the 'périphérie,' roughly, the flyover country, where a sense of abandonment has led voters to reject mainstream parties. Viewed as a lame duck last year after a succession of blunders, including an abrupt dissolution of Parliament that led to chaos, Mr. Macron has reacquired a raison d'être. Two recent polls, for the newspapers Le Figaro and JDD, showed Mr. Macron's popularity surging four percentage points, to nearly 30 percent, a respectable showing in a country of strong egalitarian spirit, where scathing attacks on the president are a national pastime and single-digit approval ratings are not unknown. Although he is term-limited and toward the end of his presidency, Mr. Macron has assumed a more important role since President Trump took office because he is widely seen in France and beyond as one of the most experienced orchestrators of an effective European response to the new American distance from, and contempt for, the continent. Mr. Macron's quest for more contact, as in Thouars, forms part of his push for a rebirth. 'You know a barman has to be a psychologist, a confidant' said Nicolas Cossard, who works at Le Prem's. 'You listen to people newly widowed, to old people talking about their gardens, their billiards, their Bingo, their car. Macron has been absent for me. But when I shook his hand, my sense was he was not just trying to gain credit.' Alain Duhamel, the author of a book about Mr. Macron, said that the French president had adjusted his style, if not his essence, to appear as 'the sober rather than the theatrical seducer.' In Thouars, Mayor Paineau, who is also a successful entrepreneur, was alerted to Mr. Macron's visit when the president was already at the bar, so he rushed over, delaying his appearance at a lunch for older people. On leaving Le Prem's, Mr. Macron insisted on accompanying the mayor to apologize for the delay. He stayed through the meal. 'The band struck up the Marseillaise at the end, everyone rose, it was a moving moment,' the mayor said. 'He did not have to do that.' Mr. Macron went on to visit Asselin, a local company that has provided beams for the reconstruction of Notre-Dame Cathedral. Thouars is struggling but not moribund. At the bar, life goes on, albeit a little changed. An espresso is now known as a 'petit Macron.' Mr. Jacques, warming to his role, said, 'We are awaiting Putin next week.'
