Phillippe Claudel's mysterious, pacifying film unfolds with a scenario reminiscent somewhat of Jonathan Demme's chaotic, naturalistic Rachel Getting Married. One sister is discharged from an institution for a reunion with another sister who is not elated to see her. Both former sisters are deemed to blame for a devastating tragedy some long years ago. There are delicate doubts as to whether either one can be "trusted" even now. One of the sisters is Juliette, played by Kristin Scott Thomas, one of those actresses who can transpose freely between different languages. In French, her feelings seem more liberated.
Not that there is any bliss to be found for her here, as she plays a woman who seems so cold, unfriendly, looking as if to perpetually favor being somewhere else, someone with no drive left for affectation. And yet when she hits it off with the two adopted Vietnamese daughters of her sister, it's an affection, a fleeting tenderness, that feels unrehearsed and not phony or "indicated." She also arrives back to the diffidence of her sister's husband and his father. Her brother-in-law doesn't receive her warmly. He's uncomfortable about her being with the children. Dad has displaced the ability to talk and absorbs all of his time by reading books. Claudel's script is comprised of day-to-day, unmelodramatic occurrences and concise dialogue.
His convention of fading gradually to black between scenes and the sneaky intonations of Jean-Louis Aubert's score imply a cryptic aura that is both suited to the story and a bit dependent. Effectively, the film searches the past very distantly. Everyone is averse to mentioning it, unless it's obliquely. No one gambles by asking her anything explicitly. At a dinner party that starts off with an awkwardly upbeat air, one of the guests gets virtually vindictive kick out of asking Juliette questions it is obvious she will not answer. This is civilized cruelty masquerading as simple interest. However, a divulgence comes right at the end that is both phenomenally compelling and a little affected, in the way that the resolution of a mystery is.
This about-face does not weaken the seminal effect of Ms. Scott Thomas's complex, taut and purely masterful performance, but it does reveal a vulnerability in the drama diffuse the existential discontent that up till that point defines it. Though depending on the viewer it could be a gratification, it could also be a slump, not at all because the revelation itself is disappointing---in fact it makes perfect sense to the graveness of the entire film leading up to it---but because the whole film seems to be hinging on saving it for the final scene. Nevertheless, Claudel is pleasurably entrenched in nuances of environment and characters. And although Juliette's abysmal past permeates all else, it could be read as a newly freed person's reawakening to the small pleasures and follies of real life.
Not that there is any bliss to be found for her here, as she plays a woman who seems so cold, unfriendly, looking as if to perpetually favor being somewhere else, someone with no drive left for affectation. And yet when she hits it off with the two adopted Vietnamese daughters of her sister, it's an affection, a fleeting tenderness, that feels unrehearsed and not phony or "indicated." She also arrives back to the diffidence of her sister's husband and his father. Her brother-in-law doesn't receive her warmly. He's uncomfortable about her being with the children. Dad has displaced the ability to talk and absorbs all of his time by reading books. Claudel's script is comprised of day-to-day, unmelodramatic occurrences and concise dialogue.
His convention of fading gradually to black between scenes and the sneaky intonations of Jean-Louis Aubert's score imply a cryptic aura that is both suited to the story and a bit dependent. Effectively, the film searches the past very distantly. Everyone is averse to mentioning it, unless it's obliquely. No one gambles by asking her anything explicitly. At a dinner party that starts off with an awkwardly upbeat air, one of the guests gets virtually vindictive kick out of asking Juliette questions it is obvious she will not answer. This is civilized cruelty masquerading as simple interest. However, a divulgence comes right at the end that is both phenomenally compelling and a little affected, in the way that the resolution of a mystery is.
This about-face does not weaken the seminal effect of Ms. Scott Thomas's complex, taut and purely masterful performance, but it does reveal a vulnerability in the drama diffuse the existential discontent that up till that point defines it. Though depending on the viewer it could be a gratification, it could also be a slump, not at all because the revelation itself is disappointing---in fact it makes perfect sense to the graveness of the entire film leading up to it---but because the whole film seems to be hinging on saving it for the final scene. Nevertheless, Claudel is pleasurably entrenched in nuances of environment and characters. And although Juliette's abysmal past permeates all else, it could be read as a newly freed person's reawakening to the small pleasures and follies of real life.