White Mane

Beauty in Albert Lamorisse's brand of cinematic poetry stems from a childlike view of the world that sees bliss and sorrow as inseparably bound and equally enchanted.

For a 50-minute film, White Mane gives you a whole lot to think about and to remember.

The black-and-white shots are beautiful . . . then there is the closing shot, a fantastic melding of escape and loss.

When a beautiful, wild, white stallion is manoeuvred into a coral he steadfastly refuses to have anything to do with his new human captors - and pretty soon escapes their custody. The young fisherman "Folco" (Alain Emery) who lives with his grandfather nearby, watches these chases and soon becomes fascinated with this beautiful animal. He determines to try and make friends - but can it avoid the constantly pursuing, relentless, and increasingly cruel wranglers long enough to let him? This is where serendipity takes an hand and offers the young lad an opportunity, assuming he can master aquaplaning, to befriend the creature. There's some beautiful photography of the wild horses here - galloping, frolicking, rutting and the storyline is peppered with a gentle sense of humour. I am sure I even saw a look of disdainful pity coming from the horse as his personal gadfly persists, and persists. Whilst this is essentially a story about a boy's affections, it also invites us to remember that this animal has a place within the hierarchy of it's own kind, and it also has a need to be around them too. Some sort of balance might need to be in order for any satisfaction to be achieved - though maybe not quite the one we are offered in conclusion here!