Our review of the Arenas, football in a minefield

Wednesday, May 7, the evening of the Champions League with a semi-final second leg between Paris Saint-Germain and Arsenal , the box office will be in low spirits, as it is every time a great poster coincides with the day of cinema releases. It seems that football fans love cinema. However, football fans, so many of whom are in front of their home screens, do not rush to the cinema to see films that feature the most popular sport, with its sometimes unrivaled drama.

The paradox is true every time. Recently, Mercato , Tristan Séguéla's thriller, starring Jamel Debbouze as an indebted player's agent, on edge just hours before the transfer window closes, despite being a huge success, was a flop. Les Arènes , barring a triumph, is unlikely to do any better.

Also read: Édgar Ramírez, the powerful actor who slips into the skin of the powerful

Especially since director Camille Perton's debut feature isn't in the same league—no stars or trips to Madrid or Riyadh to sign a contract. But Les Arènes , like Mercato , depicts the behind-the-scenes of football business through the agent-player relationship, far from the pitch. Here, Brahim (Iliès Kadri) is 18 years old and has his head full of dreams.

A gifted and promising footballer, he is represented by his cousin Mehdi (Sofian Khammes), ready to sign him to his first professional contract in Lyon, deaf to the offer from the representative of a big club, generous in money (1 million) and in warnings ( "Loyalty is a bitch, it can bite" ).

The arrival of a foreign agent, Francis, will undermine the cousins' cohesion. He is played by Édgar Ramirez, a Venezuelan actor highly prized by French filmmakers (Jacques Audiard's Emilia Pérez ; Olivier Assayas's Carlos and Cuban Network ). His charismatic, queer mafia-like mannerisms bring a touch of mystery.

We think we're slipping into a murky homoerotic relationship à la Ozon, putting on heels instead of crampons, but Camille Perton immediately backs off, leaving desire in the locker room, unable to film Francis's body full-length when he swims naked in the hotel pool - the reverse shot of the aroused cleaning ladies therefore appears ridiculous.

Also read : Our Mercato review: Jamel Debbouze, brilliant shady agent of the football business

Camille Perton's debut film fancies itself a little bigger than it is. Its title is already grandiloquent— The Arena —to signify that footballers are the modern-day gladiators, a hackneyed cliché. Its music is just as emphatic, a symphonic score plastered over images that don't ask for much.

But it's not without interest in the way it reveals the behind-the-scenes story, particularly the trading practiced by clubs who buy young players' first contracts with extravagant signing bonuses. The ending is hardly a laughing matter, but it does shed light on the fate of many aspiring champions. A disenchantment far removed from a Champions League evening at the Parc des Princes.