A policeman must wrestle with his own remorse in Drift Away, a rippling drama that ultimately raises more issues than it can appraise.
Not long into Xavier Beauvois’ picturesque 10th feature, Drift Away (Albatros), a pair of newlyweds have their beach photoshoot interrupted by a man who has just jumped from the above cliff to his death. You don’t even hear him land; the camera merely shows his crumpled body, as if he has simply appeared out of nowhere to ruin everyone’s day. It’s a nifty and grisly piece of foreshadowing for Laurent (Jérémie Renier), a small-town policeman whose otherwise ideal life is turned upside down by a sudden and unexpected tragedy.
In the picturesque farming town of Étretat in Normandy, Laurent is a respected member of the police force whose duties range from escorting drunk men away from pubs to investigating paedophilia. He has just proposed to his partner of ten years, Marie, with whom he has a daughter, Poulette. Although Laurent is occasionally a little insensitive—he insists Marie make a big deal of her wedding dress though she doesn’t want to, and buys her a birthday gift that’s more for him than her—this is a nuclear family brimming with love and comfort.
That is, until tragedy strikes one day at work. When a downtrodden farmer flees in a violent rage after continuously being hounded for not following stringent EU regulations, Laurent is tasked with finding and apprehending him. When the farmer is found, however, he is armed, and the encounter eventually ends in catastrophe.
Renier anchors this sea-sprayed tale with an expert stillness, playing against his rugged good-looks to reveal a swell of emotional pain bubbling beneath the surface. In particular, his dead-eyed shame after the incident is played to infuriating perfection. Clamming up and unable to speak when questioned by authorities, you want to reach out and shake him. It’s a remarkable performance of trauma and guilt, viscerally assaulting the audience’s nerves as you too grapple with your feelings about the event and who is to blame.
But a nagging feeling prevails. Wouldn’t Drift Away be a more interesting story if we learnt more about the farmer and farmer’s union? With its dogged focus on Laurent and his well of empathy, the film comes across at times as, well, copaganda. Look at these policemen. Look at how the job affects them. Look at their emotional pain and regret. They’re humans just like you. Though Laurent is ultimately innocent of any wrongdoing, the farmer’s union insist on a trial. He will likely be exonerated in court, but his reputation is now in ruins and he won’t be able to do his job properly as before. Is Drift Away, then, about, dreaded cancel culture? With the film’s baddies being downtrodden manual labourers and unionists, there are numerous ‘yikes’ moments that prevail. The film ultimately boils down to how the poor police need better training in de-escalation, the poor police need more psychological support. I mean, sure: but it all seems far too facile, when there is a depth of socioeconomic context to explore that Beauvois simply doesn’t.
What’s more, it’s a little jarring when we’re taken from the film’s first two thirds—still and scoreless—to the operatic final third, in which Laurent succumbs to a Melvillian fantasy on the high seas. Beauvois doesn’t use just this grand literary myth, though. Laurent’s journey into the ocean as absolution for his crime is reminiscent of Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, in which the title figure must wear a dead albatross around his neck to illustrate his burden of suffering and regret. Marie is far too understanding, telling Poulette: “the ocean will console your father.” A father that has just, essentially, abandoned his family and turfed them out of their home.
The Verdict
There is a lot to admire in Drift Away, notably Julien Hirsch’s beautiful cinematography of the sea and shoreline and the climax’s operatic score. Ultimately, though, we’re presented with a film of two halves, unable to coalesce and failing to find its focus on the worthwhile story at hand.
Rating: 6/10
Words by Steph Green
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.