Pauline et François (2010)
Directed by Renaud Fely

Film Review

Four years after he worked as an assistant to Pascale Ferran on Lady Chatterley (2006), Renaud Fely makes a promising directorial debut with a similarly intense portrayal of a fraught romantic liaison.  In Ferran's film, the central characters are divided by the insuperable class consciousness of the 1920s; in Fely's film, the separation is purely emotional, a sea of deep-seated personal traumas that have to be bridged before the protagonists can find lasting happiness.  Whilst there is nothing particularly daring or original in Fely's mise-en-scène, Pauline et François is a film of immense charm and sensitivity, refreshing both in its simplicity and its lack of dramatic artifice, a surprisingly mature film for a first-time director.

Fely was fortunate to secure the services of two accomplished young actors for the leading roles: Laura Smet and Yannick Renier.  So far, Smet's screen career has been haphazard and not entirely distinguished, although she has shown great promise in a few films, most notably Pascal Thomas's L'Heure zéro (2007) and Philippe Garrel's La Frontière de l'aube (2008).  By contrast, Yannick Renier has become a favourite of France's auteur filmmakers, not yet as famous as his brother Jérémie, but an actor of comparable charm and ability, as witnessed by his performances in Joachim Lafosse's Nue propriété (2006) and Élève libre (2008).

If Pauline et François excels in one area it is in the quality of the performances, particularly those of Smet and Renier, who convey so much of their character's inner turmoil and fragility with next to no dialogue.  This film is unusual in that the main characters form an empathic bond not by what they say, but by how they express themselves non-verbally - human relationships are, after all, founded on feelings, not words.  Both actors do a fine job of expressing themselves without speaking, showing pain and yearning through the subtlest of gestures. When François prosaically reveals that he killed his brother in childhood, his words and Pauline's equally terse reponse tell us nothing, but we see at once that the two characters have found common ground and are destined to achieve a liberating spiritual union, through their need to confide in each other.  Both Smet and Renier compel us to feel for their characters and bring an exquisite poignancy to a film that might otherwise have been quite bland and monotonous.

This may be Laura Smet and Yannick Renier's film, a film that may be a turning point in both of their careers, but it is hard to overlook the commendable contributions from the distinguished supporting cast.  André Wilms (the star of Aki Kaurismäki's Le Havre, released the following year) is perfect for the role of François's domineering father, another character who is visibly haunted by his past but who deals with his traumas by making his son's life a misery.  Léa Drucker brings a similarly ambiguous quality to her portrayal of François's far from sympathetic sister Catherine, who also takes pleasure in victimising François.  A rare treat is to see Anémone, one of the great comedic actresses of French cinema in the 1970s and '80s, in the role of Pauline's grief-stricken mother, another faultlessly delivered performance - you can't help wishing she was a more frequent visitor to our cinema screens these days.

The film's other important player is its rural setting, in the Creuse, a region that rarely features in French cinema, although it was famously the location of Claude Chabrol's Le Beau Serge (1958).  Sombrely photographed, the Creuse countryside has an austere, almost forbidding beauty that seems to reflect the repressed, introspective nature of the main characters.  Like them, it has a charm that is discovered not with the eyes, but with the heart.  It is by developing a close rapport with this raw landscape that Pauline and François are finally able to make contact with one another and thereby complete the healing process that will set them free.  Renaud Fely's debut film may be too subtle and restrained for many cinemagoers (evidenced by the unforgiving reviews it has received in some quarters), but for those who prefer substance to gloss, Pauline et François is a captivating jewel of a film, the work of a confident and fully-fledged auteur.

Film Synopsis

Pauline is a young woman, in her late twenties, who is struggling to come to terms with the death of her husband.  Seeking escape from her old life, she moves to the country, and it is here that she meets François, an introverted man who is about her age and who has his own share of woes.  Still haunted by a terrible tragedy that took place when he was a child, François now lives like a prisoner, dominated by his unforgiving father and a sister who cannot give him a moment's peace.  Pauline and François are naturally drawn to one another and they soon discover they have the same fundamental need - to escape and start a new life.  But their scars are so deep that they find it hard to communicate with one another openly.  Gradually, as their friendship develops, these two unhappy individuals come to realise that each has the ability to help the other find freedom...