Rural, directed by Jérôme Bayle, anger turns into a movement: from whispered words at the Capitole to the asphalt ribbon of the A64 near Carbonne. Édouard Bergeon captures a struggle for survival with politicians extending helping hands and a pack of networks around. At the heart of it all, a duo that magnetizes the film: Jérôme and his mother Lulu. They are the figures of a world that refuses to die.
In a wheelchair, Lulu attends the premiere of Rural in Carbonne, wrapped in a poncho. She is pushed into the aisle, settles in, and the room goes dark. On the screen, the Gaston-Sauret stadium in Saint-Sulpice-sur-Lèze: a rugby match, a wall comes crashing down. By the field, Jérôme Bayle, her son, steps away for an interview.
Fixed shots. Wood pigeons in flight. Limousin cows with steaming nostrils. Then, at the 13th minute, the old woman takes over the frame. She talks to the animals, gathers them, feeds them. Bergeon captured this moment before a stroke immobilized her, just a few months before the film’s release. Here she is, on screen: 75 years old, rough hands, a face marked by fifty years of farm work.
Moment of Change
She talks about her youth at the foot of the Pyrenees, the mutual aid among farmers, the days earned through hard work. In the background, a world in its twilight, extinguished by machinery and international agreements (Mercosur). The story follows Jérôme’s awakening, described by her as “a country bumpkin talking to ministers”. Two characters, one movement: to save their world, and their way of life.
In mid-January 2024, at the beginning of the movement, the Capitole square in Toulouse fills with farmers clamoring for a decent income. Jérôme Bayle steps forward. Tall stature, clenched jaw, voice saturated with emotion. No break: he calls to block the A64. The crowd responds. In Carbonne, in the cold, everything changes.
Since then, the former rugby player has learned to navigate through political attempts to co-opt the movement. Marine Tondelier, Gabriel Attal, François Ruffin, Yaël Braun-Pivet: the whole spectrum courts him, with varying degrees of subtlety. Bergeon films these scenes, photos, invitations, microphones extended, with a subtle irony, akin to Raymond Depardon in 1974, a country outing.
The film also reveals the flip side. This perceived or real proximity comes with a cost on social networks: the man from Volvestre receives vile messages about his father’s suicide, a farmer overwhelmed by debt. The intimate side of Bayle surfaces. Behind the anger and blockades, an obsession remains: to do everything possible to prevent this tragedy from affecting other farming families.
