This is a quiet romance without melodrama, and the director is a man who is best known for his crime and police movies. It's a strange bird in many aspects, but quite interesting and also beautiful.
Don't expect anything like Rosamunde Pilcher or a Jacqueline Susann adaptation, even if the plot suggests as much. The story is stripped bare to the bones, dialog is reduced to the necessary, the cutting of scenes staccato like: A man in Paris feels uncomfortable moodwise. Cut. His boss recommends a prolonged trip to the countryside. Cut. The man sits in the moving train, fiddling with the shutters. Cut. The man lies on his belly in a bucolic setting on a river bank, a stately mansion in the background. Cut. A woman serves him breakfast in the kitchen of the mansion, apparently she is his sister and he has been here for a while already.
The action moves forward at a brisk pace. At a party his sister drags him to, the man encounters a slightly older woman. The woman gets after him. Soon they have sex, soon they realize they can't be without each other. They move to Paris together. They go to the disco. The man gets worse again moodwise. He spends a joyless night with a prostitute. The woman does not like his absence and tells him so. It all becomes too much for the man, he wants to discard the woman. The woman becomes aware of it. She leaves. Next we meet her in the emergency room. She has swallowed sleeping pills. The man comes, looks down on her. She dies. He turns away with a bored expression on his face and walks down a long hospital corridor, towards the light. The end.
People in this movie seem to be hollow shells, defined only by exterior looks and rituals. They act on impulse and have no deeper motives. They are, in fact, pretty boring. It is remarkable that all the conversations between the lovers - few as they already are - are totally empty and meaningless, hardly ever conveying warmth or true affection - or hate and disgust, for that matter. Yes, somehow this movie succeeds where Nine 1/2 Weeks failed.
Nature is the one redeeming factor, it is filmed beautifully, in the tradition of movie makers like Jean Renoir or Jacques Becker. It seems to signal to the viewers that, even if we center on personal desires or sorrows we are always part of a larger picture without us being able to alter it significantly. Amazingly, this treatment does not only include the beautiful landscape of the Limousin region in central France but also to the town of Paris itself, where the woman is seen strolling through the streets in quickly changing outfits (probably in order to satisfy the sponsors), accompanied by a haunting musical score.
The acting performances are quite good, although to me the male lead leaned a little too heavily on his moody pretty boy image. A very young Gérard Dépardieu is pretty effective in a walk-on part as the woman's brother, future Bond-girl Barbara Bach is very appetizing as the last girlfriend the male lead ditched. There are also some quirky performances. A young man in a gray flannel suit does a pantomime of a train voyage during a party, he imitates all the sounds of the steam train with his mouth. It is a long, otherwise silent scene and is done very well. In the disco the lovers meet an English speaking character in a business suit, a middle aged, bald, broad shouldered man with Lenin's beard. He starts dancing with the female lead, moving like he was sparring with her in a boxing rink. Very strange and also funny.
I am not enough into movies to know if a book about director Jacques Deray exists, but I hope that film students analyze his work. He seems to have a unique way of putting a final point" to a scene, maybe a secondary character who makes a remark or a close up or a movement of a certain character. So even the corniest run off the mill scenes become something special. For example, the man meets the woman on a station platform. They see each other, she puts her bags down, they rough towards each other, the kiss and embrace, say tender words. Then, final shot of the two bags she had set down on the platform, as a kind of a still life. I found that highly satisfying.
Don't expect anything like Rosamunde Pilcher or a Jacqueline Susann adaptation, even if the plot suggests as much. The story is stripped bare to the bones, dialog is reduced to the necessary, the cutting of scenes staccato like: A man in Paris feels uncomfortable moodwise. Cut. His boss recommends a prolonged trip to the countryside. Cut. The man sits in the moving train, fiddling with the shutters. Cut. The man lies on his belly in a bucolic setting on a river bank, a stately mansion in the background. Cut. A woman serves him breakfast in the kitchen of the mansion, apparently she is his sister and he has been here for a while already.
The action moves forward at a brisk pace. At a party his sister drags him to, the man encounters a slightly older woman. The woman gets after him. Soon they have sex, soon they realize they can't be without each other. They move to Paris together. They go to the disco. The man gets worse again moodwise. He spends a joyless night with a prostitute. The woman does not like his absence and tells him so. It all becomes too much for the man, he wants to discard the woman. The woman becomes aware of it. She leaves. Next we meet her in the emergency room. She has swallowed sleeping pills. The man comes, looks down on her. She dies. He turns away with a bored expression on his face and walks down a long hospital corridor, towards the light. The end.
People in this movie seem to be hollow shells, defined only by exterior looks and rituals. They act on impulse and have no deeper motives. They are, in fact, pretty boring. It is remarkable that all the conversations between the lovers - few as they already are - are totally empty and meaningless, hardly ever conveying warmth or true affection - or hate and disgust, for that matter. Yes, somehow this movie succeeds where Nine 1/2 Weeks failed.
Nature is the one redeeming factor, it is filmed beautifully, in the tradition of movie makers like Jean Renoir or Jacques Becker. It seems to signal to the viewers that, even if we center on personal desires or sorrows we are always part of a larger picture without us being able to alter it significantly. Amazingly, this treatment does not only include the beautiful landscape of the Limousin region in central France but also to the town of Paris itself, where the woman is seen strolling through the streets in quickly changing outfits (probably in order to satisfy the sponsors), accompanied by a haunting musical score.
The acting performances are quite good, although to me the male lead leaned a little too heavily on his moody pretty boy image. A very young Gérard Dépardieu is pretty effective in a walk-on part as the woman's brother, future Bond-girl Barbara Bach is very appetizing as the last girlfriend the male lead ditched. There are also some quirky performances. A young man in a gray flannel suit does a pantomime of a train voyage during a party, he imitates all the sounds of the steam train with his mouth. It is a long, otherwise silent scene and is done very well. In the disco the lovers meet an English speaking character in a business suit, a middle aged, bald, broad shouldered man with Lenin's beard. He starts dancing with the female lead, moving like he was sparring with her in a boxing rink. Very strange and also funny.
I am not enough into movies to know if a book about director Jacques Deray exists, but I hope that film students analyze his work. He seems to have a unique way of putting a final point" to a scene, maybe a secondary character who makes a remark or a close up or a movement of a certain character. So even the corniest run off the mill scenes become something special. For example, the man meets the woman on a station platform. They see each other, she puts her bags down, they rough towards each other, the kiss and embrace, say tender words. Then, final shot of the two bags she had set down on the platform, as a kind of a still life. I found that highly satisfying.