Given the renowned Gallic expertise in matters of the heart, this romantic drama adapted from an Eric Holder novel is disappointingly short on passion and tension, sexual or otherwise.
The hoary theme – happily-married man attracted to other woman, in this case his son’s teacher –- isn’t given enough fresh twists or perspective by writer-director Stéphane Brizé. As a meditation on temptation and yearning set in a provincial French town, Mademoiselle Chambon is almost painfully restrained and melancholy.
For reasons best known to Brizé, long periods of the plodding screenplay are devoted to humdrum events such as the opening sequence in which parents and kid discuss the intricacies of grammar at a picnic; the male protagonist, a builder, mixing cement and laying bricks; a family gathering to celebrate his 80-year-old father’s birthday; and the teacher playing the violin.
All that merely prolongs the boredom, punctuated by several dramatic moments which aren’t fully exploited. There is a certain frisson in watching Vincent Lindon as Jean and Sandrine Kiberlain as the teacher Véronique Chambon, knowing they were married in real life and are now separated.
Jean meets Mlle Chambon while collecting his son Jérémy (Arthur Le Houerou) in place of his wife Anne-Marie (Aurore Atika), who hurt her back at work in a factory. The teacher invites Jean to talk to her class about his job, he agrees, and the kids find it unaccountably riveting.
He offers to fix a broken window in her apartment, discovers she plays the violin and asks her to play for him. 'I’ll be terrible, you’ll be disappointed," she demurs, before playing beautifully. There are broad hints of a budding romance – glances held for a beat or two too long, silences as they contemplate each other – well before their first tender kiss.
After that, such tension as there is revolves around the questions: Will they or won’t they get it on, and what will be the consequences? When Jean is forced to tell Véronique that his wife is pregnant, it seems an affair may be thwarted. Meanwhile Jean becomes distant and distracted at home and scuffles with his workmate.
Jean invites Véronique to play a piece by Elgar at his father's birthday party and is mesmerised by her performance, and by her; the film cuts to a close-up of Anne-Marie observing him and recognising instantly, as wives do, the threat to their marriage. A sub-plot about Jean and his ageing dad (Jean-Marc Thibault), which involves a visit to a funeral home to select a casket, peters out.
Lindon's portrayal of a blue-collar guy smitten by a more sophisticated woman is refreshingly subtle and at times moving, as he shows glimmers of emotion. But Véronique’s character is poorly fleshed out: we know she’s a relief teacher who can be posted all over France, a lifestyle which seems to make her lonely and lessen the chances of her forming long-lasting relationships. But what does she really feel and want? We’re none the wiser.
As for the film’s conclusion, I doubt anyone will be moved to remark, 'Quelle surprise!"
