Toronto

The Man Of My Life

L'homme De Sa Vie (France-Italy)

By DAVID ROONEY

A Pan-Europeene, France 3 Cinema, Rhones-Alpes Cinema, StudioUrania production in association with Sofica Europacorp, Carrimages 2, with participation of Canal Plus, CineCinema, Region Rhone-Alpes, Centre National de la Cinematographie. (International sales: Wild Bunch, Paris.) Produced by Philippe Godeau. Executive producer, Jean-Yves Asselin.
Directed by Zabou Breitman. Screenplay, Breitman, Agnes de Sacy.
 
Frederic - Bernard Campan
Hugo - Charles Berling
Frederique - Lea Drucker

 

Actress-turned-director Zabou Breitman's elegant visual compositions and willingness to experiment with style and structure are evident in her second feature, "The Man of My Life." But those virtues become vices in a drama that steadily succumbs to self-conscious artiness, drunk on its own sense of contrived poetry and cloudy existential reflection. Exploring the man-crush between a happily married heterosexual and a gay devotee of emotionless physical gratification, the movie is a big tease. Even auds inclined to indulge its pretentiousness will start tuning out as its multiple endings drag on, none of them satisfying or revelatory.

The film's most potentially interesting aspect is that two women (Breitman and co-scripter Agnes de Sacy) have attempted, entirely from a male point of view, to consider the ways in which men think about themselves and other men -- about relationships, sex, family responsibility and emotional commitment. But the promise of intriguing outsider insights is unfulfilled.

More surprisingly, the key woman in the equation is the least sensitively drawn character. As Frederique, a wife who starts out sure of her husband's love and the ongoing fire in their marriage, Lea Drucker is required to perform a lyrically verbose meltdown that comes out of nowhere and a naked scene of mad desperation, pleading to be loved. Those arias are inspired by the distraction of her husband Frederic (Bernard Campan).

The film opens on familiar ground: The gorgeous, sun-drenched French countryside, a charming old summer house, an alfresco gathering of friends and family, food and wine. Fred and Fred invite new neighbor Hugo (Charles Berling), who reveals he's gay.

The long, latenight conversation between Frederic and Hugo that follows the other guests' departure and Frederique's exit to go to bed provides the drama's ponderous center, the action cutting back and forth between this and developments that follow. Being a French film, the guys don't talk about sports, but instead dive straight into love and passion.

Berling is a good enough actor to disguise that Hugo is basically a cliche: a gay man expelled from his family by an unforgiving father who now doesn't believe in relationships, just sex.

Frederic is more complicated. While his attraction to Hugo and the doubts raised by his new friendship seem mainly fueled by wistful desire for the kind of freedom his neighbor has, Breitman tirelessly plays up the psychosexual undercurrents and homoerotic charge.

Despite its seductive look, intense performances and semblance of serious reflection, the film ultimately seems empty. It evokes a little Rohmer, a little Malle, a little Bunuel -- a little of everything and nothing.

Its mannered affectations and often gratuitous stylistic flourishes -- repeated shots of a billowing gauze curtain in the wind; a surreal string quartet; tango interludes; Hugo's graphic art installation -- become the film's reason for being, doing nothing to illuminate its supposed thematic concerns.

Camera (color), Michel Amathieu; editor, Richard Marizy; music, Laurent Korcia, Liviu Badiu; sound (Dolby Digital/DTS), Michel Kharat; assistant director, Joseph Rapp. Reviewed at Toronto Film Festival (Special Presentation), Sept. 9, 2006. Running time: 112 MIN.

 

With: Jacqueline Jehanneuf, Eric Prat, Niels Lexcellent, Anna Chalon, Antonin Chalon, Leocadia Rodriguez-Henocq, Caroline Gonce, Aurelie Guichard, Philippe Lefebvre, Angie David, Gabrielle Atger.
(French dialogue)