Jeune Fille (2013) watch online HD

Jeune Fille is a beautiful short film that in my opinion carries the emotional depth of a full- length. Within the first moments, I was captivated by the melancholy of main character, Sophia (played by Luba Bocian), and found myself continually wondering what she was thinking until the climax of the film. Likewise, Miles Wartes plays the character of Adam, who has only one spoken dialog scene, but whose presence on screen is lingering and impactful.

The cinematography is beautiful and artful, shot mostly in black-and-white, and the writer/director Joshua McQuilkin utilizes non-linear storytelling to carry the viewer along, which is quite a remarkable undertaking for a short film. Juene Fille is accentuated by a beautiful and haunting score, which carries the emotion along and at times feels perfectly timed to key moments within the film.

This is on many levels an art film, tipping its cap to French New-Wave filmmaking. It relies heavily on minimal dialog, non-verbal communication and subtlety to convey the story, so viewers looking for a straight-line plot are more likely not to "get it" the first time around. But those who enjoy films that make them think, ponder and discuss are likely to find this film delightful.

It's hard not to be drawn in by Luba Bocian's sweet sadness as Sophia, a solitary theatrical costume designer, working in, with intended paradox, a very public profession.

Her good looks and soulful countenance work against her, however, making it a tad difficult for the viewer to believe she is as socially and emotionally reticent as the story suggests.

Bocian's wide, searching eyes seem not to be seeking heretofore inexperienced passion and adventure, but to attempt to recapture the same after some mysteriously self-imposed romantic sabbatical. We see a girl more world-weary than unworldly and wonder what life events have transpired to position this otherwise appealing and adept young woman in such a lonely place.

So when a fantasy sequence is introduced, we assume, erroneously, that it is a flashback, answering our questions about her history. Or was this an intentional ambiguity common to the French New-Wave films the director emulates?

Any confusion is cleared up for the most part by the film's climax in a scene that is universally relatable and objectively realistic in its offer of only faint hope.