“They’ve gone into their dream.” That’s what the non-corporeal extraterrestrial entity (voiced by Dimitri Doré) says through a highly malleable seed that Elsa Martens (Megan Northam) places in her ear. The words are meant to comfort her when the first of its victims is imperceptibly replaced by one of its companions––that the person she knew the body to be didn’t die. It was instead painlessly sent away to exist in a realm we can assume will bring it joy. Does this fact make it easier to deal with the task she’s been asked to undertake? Nothing about choosing four more people for this alien to use as vessels in exchange for bringing her brother back to Earth is easy, but she’s going to try anyway.
Writer-director Jérémy Clapin’s Meanwhile on Earth presents us with a world where thick-as-thieves siblings Elsa and Franck are no longer together. He went off to space never to return. She stayed behind to continue living with the phantom limb of his absence. Franck was the reason she applied to art school––his passion and cheerleading proving too much to ignore. Without him there to keep transferring that enthusiasm, though, Elsa soon gave it up, like most everything she starts. So now she sticks to a routine that allows her to be numb to life working as a caregiver and vandalizing the statue their town erected in Franck’s honor. With zero ambition to move forward, let alone move on, the days simply pass until a voice jolts her awake.
Can it really be Franck? Where is he? The voice of his captor won’t provide details––only that he’s safe and in slumber so as not to waste oxygen. It promises that it will bring him back if she assists in bringing them to Earth, too. Not to invade, of course. It says that’s not their goal and requests Elsa have faith that what she’s hearing is real, that their intentions are pure, and that it will all be worth it. All she must do is “follow the path” that connects them. Bridge the gap between hers and Franck’s memories of fictional adventures in space (brought to life via animated vignettes). The soul exchange isn’t brought up until it’s absolutely necessary.
I mean it when I say “necessary.” There’s a dark undercurrent that runs throughout Meanwhile on Earth, but the introduction of this piece to the “hostage exchange” comes with a burst of violence that does feel discordant with the rest of the story. I get the reason why Clapin includes it as a no-turning-back moment, but it can’t help lingering in our minds when the ramifications don’t linger onscreen (beyond a convenient narrative thread saved for later). If not for its extreme shock value, it would simply be the proof of concept for what’s to come. Because after witnessing the unintentional replacement of someone she knows, Elsa must now consider the criteria for selecting who she’ll intentionally choose to suffer the same fate next.
This is where the science fiction conceit reveals itself to be more metaphor than reality. Not that it can’t also be both. The consequences of Elsa’s actions in service of the voice seem pretty real. I just mean the lines separating her from her candidates start to blur. Because when you can’t blindly pick bullies (what about the collateral damage of their families?) or the infirm (what if the final days of their lives prove the most important?), you begin to settle on traits that place Elsa on the top of the list, considering the potential she’s squandered in the shadow of her brother’s disappearance. Not that she’d willingly volunteer. The whole point is getting him back to jumpstart her own life in the process.
We thus watch as Elsa chooses who she’s willing to offer. Some are selected with confidence. Others unwittingly participate in an interview process. More, still, are taken off the board, courtesy of darker forces of melancholy than even she can muster. In the end we realize that, no matter how much Elsa wants this chance to get Franck back, her loneliness isn’t unique. Just because her parents have chosen to keep living doesn’t mean they aren’t also in mourning. Just because someone is a monster doesn’t mean his / her relatives are devoid of purpose or the opportunity to better the world. Is Elsa really all that different than a homeless woman who refuses to contact her family? It’s not like she’s voluntarily expressing her grief to hers.
Meanwhile on Earth is, in many ways, very similar to Clapin’s previous work I Lost My Body. Elsa is the dismembered hand trying to reclaim the past when it’s the future that she should be focusing on. Its struggles to fly with an umbrella or escape hungry rats are manifested as Elsa’s attempts to lead lambs to slaughter while her conscience silently begs her to stop. And much like the open-ended nature of that Oscar-nominee’s finale, this too finds itself heading towards a conclusion steeped in the hope of possibility. Maybe Elsa finally accepts what’s happened. Or maybe she makes the last sacrifice necessary to erase the need. It all goes back to that notion of “dreams”––they mustn’t always be ambitious to bring peace.
Northam is very good in the lead role. She needs to be––the film revolves around her choices and often pits her against a disembodied voice so that her Elsa is left alone in the frame. Thus we must understand her desperation: it’s one thing to accept the alien’s plan when the cost protects her, as with the first instance of body-snatching; it’s another when people are made victims through no fault of their own. That’s kind of the point, though. Why should Elsa feel as if her grief matters more than others? Why is removing hers more important than supplying it to others? It’s not. We merely believe it to be true––the pain hurts too much to think otherwise.
Meanwhile on Earth had its North American premiere at the 2024 Fantasia International Film Festival and opens on September 13 via Metrograph Pictures.
The post Fantasia Review: Jérémy Clapin’s Meanwhile on Earth is a Dark Alien Tale About Loneliness first appeared on The Film Stage.
