SPOILERS.
I'm stumped. I can't figure out what happened. The Frogs have done it again and confounded me.
"Spoilers" appears at the top of this comment only because it's pro forma by now. (This is a recent movie.) But I can describe only what appears on screen. I couldn't possibly tell you how the plot is resolved because I don't know.
Basically, the story is simple enough, as we see it running along. "Crabbed age and youth cannot live together," said Shakespeare. I don't know if that's entirely true, but I guess if I were a British writer of mystery novels taking a working vacation in the south of France and this young babe -- zesty and bitter -- moved in and started carrying on with her boyfriends and her dope and her loud music while I was trying to work on another novel, the situation could become trying.
The writer is Charlotte Rampling. She has been having a long affair with her publisher and complains to him that she feels neglected by him and that she's bored with those damme Dorwell mysteries. Why not get away for a spell, he suggests. She can use his vacation house near the Riviera, peaceful and quiet in its off-season solitude, and she can take a deep breath. So she goes. And she LOVES the place except for its swimming pool.
She's always hated swimming pools. There's no reason she shouldn't enjoy herself. There's a cute café nearby and an appealing waiter -- not one of those rude, catty types of Parisian waiters but a laid-back Provençal type.
She begins her new novel, something entirely different from the Dorwell mysteries. But then the publisher's estranged daughter shows up and turns things upside down. The nocturnal noises annoy Rampling. And she finds that the crucifix over the bed -- which she had taken down first thing upon entering the house and hidden in a drawer -- has been restored to its rightful place over the headboard. Is THAT what this is about? Something to do with uptight Spartan Calvinists versus life-embracing southern Catholics? I can't see how that would work in light of what's to come.
"To make a long story short," as Shakespeare said, Rampling's irritation with this adolescent changes into jealousy as the naked teenager runs around cavorting with a succession of men until finally she takes up with the friendly waiter, to whom Rampling herself is attracted. At the same time, Rampling is becoming fascinated in a horrified way and begins probing for the teen's secret. Upshot -- jealousy breeds murder. The nymphet bashes in the waiter's head with a rock. Rampling discovers this and excitedly, almost cheerfully, helps the young girl bury the body in the backyard. Rampling even seduces a withered and extremely old gardener, a man who looks the way I feel when I get out of bed, who is about to discover the burial. (This is a nude scene and only goes to prove that the years haven't been unkind to Rampling.)
Okay, okay. Rampling returns to London, and flings a newly published novel on her boyfriend's desk and walks out. As she leaves she passes a young blonde who runs to the publisher, hugs him, and cries, "Daddy!", while he kisses her forehead. Rampling watches this scene, smiling, and leaves. My guess is that everything that has happened since the entry of that French teenager is the plot of the new novel she's just written. But honestly I think I'm mated.
I'm stumped. I can't figure out what happened. The Frogs have done it again and confounded me.
"Spoilers" appears at the top of this comment only because it's pro forma by now. (This is a recent movie.) But I can describe only what appears on screen. I couldn't possibly tell you how the plot is resolved because I don't know.
Basically, the story is simple enough, as we see it running along. "Crabbed age and youth cannot live together," said Shakespeare. I don't know if that's entirely true, but I guess if I were a British writer of mystery novels taking a working vacation in the south of France and this young babe -- zesty and bitter -- moved in and started carrying on with her boyfriends and her dope and her loud music while I was trying to work on another novel, the situation could become trying.
The writer is Charlotte Rampling. She has been having a long affair with her publisher and complains to him that she feels neglected by him and that she's bored with those damme Dorwell mysteries. Why not get away for a spell, he suggests. She can use his vacation house near the Riviera, peaceful and quiet in its off-season solitude, and she can take a deep breath. So she goes. And she LOVES the place except for its swimming pool.
She's always hated swimming pools. There's no reason she shouldn't enjoy herself. There's a cute café nearby and an appealing waiter -- not one of those rude, catty types of Parisian waiters but a laid-back Provençal type.
She begins her new novel, something entirely different from the Dorwell mysteries. But then the publisher's estranged daughter shows up and turns things upside down. The nocturnal noises annoy Rampling. And she finds that the crucifix over the bed -- which she had taken down first thing upon entering the house and hidden in a drawer -- has been restored to its rightful place over the headboard. Is THAT what this is about? Something to do with uptight Spartan Calvinists versus life-embracing southern Catholics? I can't see how that would work in light of what's to come.
"To make a long story short," as Shakespeare said, Rampling's irritation with this adolescent changes into jealousy as the naked teenager runs around cavorting with a succession of men until finally she takes up with the friendly waiter, to whom Rampling herself is attracted. At the same time, Rampling is becoming fascinated in a horrified way and begins probing for the teen's secret. Upshot -- jealousy breeds murder. The nymphet bashes in the waiter's head with a rock. Rampling discovers this and excitedly, almost cheerfully, helps the young girl bury the body in the backyard. Rampling even seduces a withered and extremely old gardener, a man who looks the way I feel when I get out of bed, who is about to discover the burial. (This is a nude scene and only goes to prove that the years haven't been unkind to Rampling.)
Okay, okay. Rampling returns to London, and flings a newly published novel on her boyfriend's desk and walks out. As she leaves she passes a young blonde who runs to the publisher, hugs him, and cries, "Daddy!", while he kisses her forehead. Rampling watches this scene, smiling, and leaves. My guess is that everything that has happened since the entry of that French teenager is the plot of the new novel she's just written. But honestly I think I'm mated.