On a warm Sunday last September, at New York City’s Metrograph Theater, Babette Mangolte introduced her 1977 film, The Camera: Je or La Camera: I, noting that although she had once felt the film explored imaging translation, she no longer felt this way. This curious manoeuvre: drawing attention to a once-held, now released, conviction, would be emblematic of the film to follow. As the theatre darkened, we the audience puzzled over what might have shifted Mangolte’s perspective, and she re-joined us to view her film – a masterclass dissection of subjectivity and photography.

Breaktime is indeed about a passion, with the ball as cross and delight. Little matter its object: no object is absurd when the passion is true. As with all passions, the thing which saves you is also your undoing. The boy has been brought low, punished, beaten, and winds up going astray because of his ball (he has broken a school window), but it’s thanks to another ball (belonging to the group of children whose football game blocks the street he needs to cross) that he manages to get past the obstacle. The ball is his key to the world; it’s also his cross.