So it’s out of the blue when, some time later - after the kitchen’s been repainted and friends have been round and Sylvie has made an abortive attempt to get rid of the chicken which Sofiane has adopted as a pet - child protective services show up at her door.
But for the time being, in the flustered, seriocomic tone Deloget has established, her biggest concern is the ruined kitchen and the burnt-out stove that she can move just enough to get it irretrievably wedged in the doorway. She gently rebukes Jean-Jacques, a responsible boy on whom she clearly relies to pick up some parenting slack, for being late home. His teenaged brother Jean-Jacques (Félix Lefebvre) returns in time to rush Sofiane to the hospital in a shopping cart to treat his minor burns, so when Sylvie arrives in a panic, he is more shaken than wounded. On this night, it happens when Sylvie’s younger son Sofiane (Alexis Tonetti), left momentarily home alone, decides to make some fries and sets the kitchen stove on fire. She’s the type of woman who will look after her troubled, seizure-prone brother Hervé (Arieh Worthalter) whenever he’s in town, and who will babysit for a neighbor even when doing so robs her of the chance for a much-needed nap.īut holding so much together, something’s got to give.
This swift, no-nonsense woman’s job may be bartender, but in between serving drinks and shrugging off the flirtations of drunken regulars, it’s already clear that she’s an all-round, equal-opportunities caregiver too. Harried but good-humored, Sylvie wraps the tap, deposits the woman on a sofa in the cluttered backstage green room, and shoos the chicken in after her.
Liquid sprays from a busted beer line a woman passes out in the crush someone has brought, then abandoned, a live chicken. The woman is Sylvie, introduced to us while mid-shift at her job in a busy Brest nightclub venue on a typically chaotic, sweaty night.
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