In Claire Denis’s new film The Fence, Matt Dillon stars in a gripping drama set in an unnamed West African country, where a seemingly modest wire fence has become a powerful symbol of division. The story takes place within a private construction site, representing a tangible barrier between Western outsiders and local inhabitants. As tensions escalate between these groups over the death of a local worker, the film scrutinizes themes of colonial legacy and entitlement in a setting that blends the past with the present.
Claire Denis’s Return to West Africa and Theatrical Origins
The Fence marks both a return and a departure for director Claire Denis. It is her first adaptation from stage to screen, closely following the structure and dialogue of Bernard-Marie Koltès’s 1979 play Black Battles With Dogs. At the same time, it resonates as a homecoming to West Africa, a region intimately connected to Denis’s upbringing as the daughter of a French civil servant stationed in multiple territories across the continent. Denis’s earlier films like Chocolat, Beau Travail, and notably 2009’s White Material have all explored colonial and postcolonial landscapes with varying nuances, and here she revisits these themes with a stark, pared-down approach.
Isaach de Bankolé, the Ivorian actor who has been a key presence in Denis’s works since her debut, returns as Alboury, whose quiet dignity and understated performance bring emotional weight to the film’s tense atmosphere. His character’s unyielding stance opposite Matt Dillon’s Horn fuels the film’s central conflict.
Clashing Worlds and Escalating Tensions Within One Day
The narrative unfolds over less than 24 hours on the fringes of a private construction project, where Horn, an American foreman played by Matt Dillon, oversees operations alongside his deputy Cal (Tom Blyth), a brash British engineering graduate. The local villagers, wary and distrustful, serve as the workforce amid escalating suspicions. The story ignites when a site worker dies in an incident deemed accidental by Horn. Alboury arrives to retrieve the body, but Horn’s reluctance to release it sparks a tense standoff.
Alboury’s polite but firm refusal to accept Horn’s invitation for a conciliatory drink—and his decision to remain firmly on his side of the fence—draws a sharp contrast between the two men. This silent impasse symbolizes the broader, deeply entrenched divisions between the Western interlopers and the local community, reflecting ongoing issues of racial and social justice perpetuated by colonial histories.
Historical Echoes Through Dialogue and Symbolism
The film’s script, co-written by Denis, Andrew Litvack, and Suzanne Lindon, carefully retains its theatrical origins, employing a shot-reverse-shot format that accentuates the verbal sparring between Horn and Alboury. Despite a modern detail like a smartphone—its use diminished by lack of signal—the setting feels timeless, built to reflect decades of unresolved tension. Horn’s character embodies a sense of Western entitlement and frustration, while Cal’s reckless behavior and flippant attitude, underscored by his singing “Beds Are Burning” by Australian rock band Midnight Oil, adds an ironic layer to the film’s exploration of indigenous land rights.
Performance and Direction: Balancing Stage Intensity and Cinematic Mood
The film’s minimalist staging represents a challenge for Denis, who is better known for her sensuous and atmospheric style. Here, the formally verbal exchanges sometimes highlight the limitations of turning a stage play into film, with Matt Dillon’s portrayal occasionally seeming disconnected from the rigid dialogue. Nonetheless, the film benefits from the presence of emerging British talents Tom Blyth and Mia McKenna-Bruce. Blyth’s energetic intensity and McKenna-Bruce’s portrayal of Leonie—Horn’s recently arrived younger wife—inject a volatile, unpredictable energy into the story.
Leonie, unfamiliar with her new environment, steps into a simmering conflict that complicates the narrative further. Her interactions with Cal, marked by antagonism mixed with subtle desire, are among the film’s more emotionally nuanced moments, reflecting potential undercurrents of queer tension. This contrast complements the more austere confrontation between Dillon and de Bankolé, adding depth to the story’s human relationships.
The Soundscape and Its Emotional Resonance
The musical atmosphere plays a subdued yet meaningful role, with a score by longtime Denis collaborators Tindersticks emerging slowly in the film’s latter parts. Notably, Kylie Minogue’s
“Can’t Get You Out Of My Head”
resonates ironically through the echoing rooms of the compound, creating an uncanny auditory backdrop that emphasizes the surreal tension of the setting. The song’s persistent drone serves as an unexpected emotional thread, weaving through the otherwise bleak and restrained narrative.
A Complex Departure from Denis’s Usual Style
The Fence may not stand as one of Claire Denis’s most definitive works due to its uneven shifts between theatrical dialogue and cinematic mood. However, it offers a haunting, lingering portrayal of confrontation and division that challenges viewers to consider the lingering effects of colonialism in contemporary West Africa. The film’s deliberate pacing and minimalist production immerse the audience in an unsettling atmosphere, where the symbolic fence remains more powerful than any physical barrier, embodying the intractable nature of the conflict it encloses.
Reflecting on the foreignness and familiarity of this tense landscape, the character Leonie observes early in the film, “It’s so unreal here,” to which Cal responds, “It’s very real, you’ll see.” This encapsulates the film’s aim to confront uncomfortable realities beneath a deceptively simple surface.
