Zero for Conduct
Watching this just a day after If…. makes for a fascinating double bill. Both films take aim at the petty tyrannies of school life, but Jean Vigo’s Zero for Conduct does it with an anarchic joy that feels decades ahead of its time. Where Lindsay Anderson built slow fury, Vigo goes straight for playful rebellion, mixing slapstick with surrealism in a way that makes even its rough edges sparkle.
At barely forty minutes, it’s less a story than a series of set-pieces: dorm-room insurrections, grotesque authority figures, and finally that glorious pillow-fight parade, feathers drifting like snow in a dream. The energy feels raw, improvised, alive—almost punk before punk.
What’s striking is how humane it all is. Vigo isn’t just mocking teachers; he’s siding with children, seeing rebellion as not just justified but joyous. Zero for Conduct isn’t polished, but its spirit is untamed, and that’s what keeps it vital.
At barely forty minutes, it’s less a story than a series of set-pieces: dorm-room insurrections, grotesque authority figures, and finally that glorious pillow-fight parade, feathers drifting like snow in a dream. The energy feels raw, improvised, alive—almost punk before punk.
What’s striking is how humane it all is. Vigo isn’t just mocking teachers; he’s siding with children, seeing rebellion as not just justified but joyous. Zero for Conduct isn’t polished, but its spirit is untamed, and that’s what keeps it vital.
Mini Review: Watched a day after If…., Vigo’s Zero for Conduct feels decades ahead. At just forty minutes it’s more set-piece than story—dorm rebellions, grotesque teachers, and that famous pillow-fight parade with feathers drifting like snow. Rough around the edges but anarchic, joyous, and humane, it sides with children and shows rebellion not as threat but as delight. Punk before punk.