Nelly & Monsieur Arnaud

How many film-makers make their greatest masterpiece as their last film? Not many, but to that select list, add Claude Sautet. Nelly & M. Arnaud is exquisite.

It is cinema.

This is to say that, in common with most truly and unquestionably great films, it could not exist with such power in any other art. The most difficult and also the most wonderful films are the films that take place, primarily in their character's hearts. It was not important what Charles Foster Kane *did*, but what he felt. In this film too, we experience the primacy of human feelings.

We do this through two luminous performances that reveal just how coarse is the acting that we habitually see in block-buster movies. One of the many deep emotions that overcame me when I first saw this film was that sheer privilege to see such acting.

To see the very gradual, subtle and beautiful love that develops between the two central characters is to get a glimpse of heaven. A film, then, not of love, but the possibility of love, and a warning without didacticism that we all should grasp love if we are given the opportunity.

Perhaps the greatest joy of cinema is its ability to allow us to experience rare emotion. This wonderful, wonderful film does that in an effortless way, without sentimentality, and for that we should be eternally grateful. Thank you M. Sautet, wherever you may be.

I guess the main reason for "Nelly" to be one of the most popular Eruopean movies of the last years is the presence of the Goddess Beart in each and every one of the sequences: her eyes, her mouth, her perfection. Without any make-up, without wonderful dresses... she does not need anything but her natural beauty to make Mr. Arnaud to fall in love her. He hires her as a personal assistant while he's writing his memoirs, but she'll end up being his closest confident. The connection between both of them is neither sexual nor platonic... it's something else. Maybe they're just kindred spirits that meet each other at the wrong time: he knows she's too young and beautiful to stay with him. It doesn't matter if she'd be willing to begin a relationship with Arnaud, 'cause the truth is that he won't let her beauty to fade in the company of an old man which has anything but memories.

This is a sober and reflexive movie, that doesn't live up to its world wide fame (in my opinion); but, as I said before, the presence of Emmanuelle Beart worth watching it.

*My rate: 7/10

Emmanuelle Beart and the movie itself are simply beautiful, gentle and breathtaking. So-French -totally in a good way; the movie has its own pace and tone. Everything is beyond excellency: acting, cinematography, direction and first of all (it all starts with) the perfect original script. They don't make these kind of movies often (and so well-done). If you like heart and truth you have to see this quiet modern masterpiece (and Un Coeur en Hiver, also with the dazzling Emmanuelle Beart).

In the 1995 film, Nelly and Monsieur Arnaud, director Claude Sautet depicts the relationship between an attractive young woman of 25 (Emmanuelle Beart) and wealthy retired judge (Michel Serrault). The setting is in upper middle-class Paris, replete with cognac, 1961 Chateau d"Yquem, stacks of books on the shelf and comfortable looking apartments. As in another Sautet film, Un Coeur en Hiver, the subject is the fear of being involved. "We all want love, but when we find it, we pull back. It scares us," states Monsieur Arnaud.

At the opening, Nelly is having marital problems with her husband Jerome (Charles Berling) who has not worked in a year. At a café one afternoon she is introduced by a friend to M. Arnaud and, after only a brief conversation about the state of her affairs, he surprisingly offers to give her 30,000 francs to help her get out of debt. She first refuses, then later agrees and also accepts his offer to type his memoirs on his computer. As she transcribes his verbally-dictated notes several hours a day, it becomes clear that he is paying her to be not only his assistant but his companion and personal confidant as well. The talk starts out with book-related matters but soon veers off into the personal. Though there is an unspoken yearning for closeness, their relationship develops into a power struggle over who can get the other to reveal their secrets.

Arnaud is attracted to the younger woman but does not pursue it for fear of rejection. He is reluctant to take risks and is content with the companionship he looks forward to every few days. Neither is comfortable with fully expressing their feelings. Nelly holds people at a distance, seeming to notice their needs but ultimately rejecting their advances with small but hurtful lies. She begins a relationship with M. Arnaud's book publisher Vincent (Jean-Hugues Anglade) but when she suspects that Arnaud is becoming possessive, she lies and tells him that she has slept with Vincent. Having made Arnaud jealous, she then callously dismisses Vincent when he asks her to move in with him. Some changes do seem to open up, however. Nelly leaves her husband and rents a studio apartment. Arnaud opens up and begins to share more of his life. There is a gallantry about the older man as he begins to communicate the pain of his divorce, his estranged relationship with his son, his financial dealings that turned bad, and his unfulfilled longings.

Nelly and Monsieur Arnaud is the type of film that comes to mind when we think of French cinema: thoughtful, restrained, and sensitive; a delicately nuanced character study performed by accomplished actors. The film is "talky" but the conversation is so thoughtful and civilized that we can just sit back and drink it up like a glass of vintage Sauterne. While the characters are not without flaws, they are nonetheless very human and Sautet makes us care about them, revealing their subtleties to us in a way that evokes our compassion. The film conveys the characters' deep longing for connection but, like many of us, they are more comfortable with maintaining the status quo. At the end, nothing much seems to have changed but when Arnaud's ex-wife (Francoise Brion) comes to visit, a hint that passion may have entered the picture in an unforeseen manner is unmistakable.

This comment, in the form of a poem, is dedicated to the late Claude Sautet, one of France's premier directors...

NELLY ET M. ARNAUD

Empty shelves: his library divested. Nothing written, except memory, invests this moment, this immediacy. In the dim light his worn hand almost caresses her young body, but we, in the dark, must estimate the camera's intent. What he had held in abeyance too long shadows his face.

And the rain, the hard Parisian rain. Cognac at tables for two. Another man, a younger man. These scenes will lead us to believe in temporary convenience... the "stolen moments." Vivid beauty flashed on the computer screen, four centuries preserved. Manipulated, changed, "seared with trade." What remains, embraced, has no passport, has no traveling bags. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thank you and farewell, M. Sautet