THE FENCE (NYFF 2025) – Review by Margaret Barton-Fumo
Undeniably a master filmmaker with over 35 years of experience directing features, Claire Denis has reached the inevitable point in her career where it is difficult to live up to the standards set by her previous work. Her growing catalog is incredibly rich, with varied source material and generic categories, but some titles are naturally stronger than others. Her latest feature, The Fence, which is about to screen at the 63rd annual New York Film Festival, is—relatively speaking—one of her weaker efforts.
Taking place over the course of one night and set at a construction site in West Africa, The Fence stars Matt Dillon as Horn, the foreman at the site, and Isaach de Bankolé as Alboury, the grieving brother of a construction worker who died under mysterious circumstances. Horn plans to celebrate the arrival of his young fiancée Leonie (Mia McKenna-Bruce), when Alboury suddenly arrives in the dark of night, demanding the return of his brother’s body. Dillon and de Bankolé engage in an extended tête à tête from either side of the titular fence while dinner goes cold and McKenna-Bruce sulks around the compound in a red silk dress. Meanwhile, Horn’s second in command, the ornery, defiant young Cal (a surly Tom Blyth) gets drunk on the couple’s champagne, pesters Leonie and reveals to us (through flashbacks and via interactions with Horn) that there is more to Alboury’s brother’s death than a simple workplace accident.
An adaptation of Bernard Marie Koltes’ play Black Battles With Dogs, Denis co-wrote the screenplay along with Suzanne Lindon and Andrew Litvack. In spite of being adapted by three capable writers, the dialogue still sounds like it is rooted in a theatrical production, with the proscenium arch looming nearby, just offscreen. Focusing most of her attention on Dillon and de Bankolé’s verbal sparring, Denis holds back on her trademark style, allowing the film to drag in parts and skimp in others—like the scenes that feature Leonie, who doesn’t have a significant speaking role. Much fuss is made, instead, over her character’s ill-suited footwear, as a metaphor for her severe misplacement in an entirely masculine, desert terrain.
Starting off on a more promising note, an early sequence in the film bears hallmarks of Denis’ signature style as Alboury and the ghost of his brother approach the complex together. They lay next to each other on the ground in a beautifully shot night sequence (lensed by cinematographer Éric Gautier) before Cal’s small dog runs at them viciously, filmed head-on and in slow motion. It’s a striking image, but unfortunately such visuals are few and far between. The same can be said for the soundtrack, by Denis’ stalwart collaborator Tindersticks. Save for a rousing song at the close of the film, the music throughout has a minimal effect, which is unusual for a Tindersticks soundtrack, typically populated with memorable compositions.
This isn’t to say that Denis is at her best when she is stylish—her work is much more complex than that—but this film in particular could use a little more formal pizzazz. Due to its theatrical structure, the film runs a bit flat, with Dillon and de Bankolé’s argument growing repetitive and some of the dialogue comes across as stilted. The screenplay addresses many of Denis’ often explored themes, such as colonialism, desire, and homosocial relationships, but these are all touchstones represented by mostly familiar talking points. By the time night ends and the drama comes to a head, Denis has wrangled the film into something more interesting, but overall The Fence stands as a rather anemic work. It appears as if something was lost in the adaptation and I look forward, as always, to Denis’ next project.
