The classic notion of the artist’s “vow of poverty” gets a modern update for the gig-economy era in Valérie Donzelli’s At Work, a sober character study that ultimately turns uplifting. Adapting Franck Courtés’ 2023 novel of the same title, it’s yet another movie, seen in practically every national cinema, about a writer trying to dismantle their ego when they’re actually still enslaved by it, yet it ties this eternal dynamic to the technologically fragmented lives we now lead, ruled by all-powerful algorithms. It has premiered in Venice’s main competition, marking the César-winning French filmmaker’s first time appearing at the festival.

At Work is a film that understands that being an artist isn’t only a matter of your final creative work; it’s just as much an oppositional stance to the world, a reluctance to conforming to typical ways of supporting oneself and finding fulfilment. Paul Marquet (Bastien Bouillon, excelling with every new role he takes on) gives up a comfortable job as a commercial photographer for the more hazardous world of chasing literary fame; with three respected, but weak-selling, books under his belt, he needs to move out of the house he formerly shared with his ex-wife (Donzelli, in a brief acting role) and support himself somehow. Yet quixotically, he doesn’t seek work connected to his recognised creative abilities, whether current in writing or more dormant in photography.

So, the (seemingly fictional?) “Jobbing” app is installed on his phone, and manual-labour gig work is sought, with the down time hopefully allowing opportunities for writing composition. Inadvertently, this becomes Paul’s sole reality, rather than fulfilling the naive hope that he can downsize his life in a boiler room-like basement studio flat and work with his hands without “thinking” as normal, before embracing the intense mental agility required to write well, as time permits in the evenings. What’s more, forget having consistent work hours to clock into, when the push notifications never flash up, and those contracting you give poor feedback ratings for tasks you were only informed of that second.

With lines from Courtés’ book repurposed as voice-overs, unfortunately for the film’s sake, we can see how this story might be best suited to prose, rather than visuals. These snatches of articulacy from Courtés make Paul’s inner life seem drab and vacant by comparison – not very convincing characteristics for a writer of autofiction, where the most quotidian moments are usually charged with insight. Paul’s verbally direct and tough-talking father (André Marcon) almost accuses him of “failing” to be poor, given his lack of suitability for the graft of manual labour, and this writer’s little adventure in poverty – backed on the non-diegetic soundtrack by tasteful piano music – can seem to make light of this work for those who exclusively rely on it.

But as Donzelli proved in her last movie, Just the Two of Us [+lee también:
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entrevista: Valérie Donzelli
ficha de la película], she thrives as a dramatist making us uncomfortable: her protagonists grapple with their psychological limits, and emotional boundaries are elbowed aside. It’s disturbing to see Paul depressively empty out his sense of self, when the possibilities of harnessing this for his writing seem more remote by the hour. But when Alice (Virginie Ledoyen), his loyal publisher at Gallimard, finally reads his account of these harrowing months, we’re reminded of the unique fulfilment of writing when it expresses an authentic emotional truth, as in Paul’s case. As the old saying goes, writing is easy, you just sit at your desk and bleed.

At Work is a French production, staged by Pitchipoï Productions, in co-production with France 2 Cinéma. Its world sales are handled by Kinology.