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You have a really gorgeous wife, young family, full of joy and love, a real alchemy, a job that you adore, great friends and colleagues, who wants more, life is great, you've filled your plate, a happy state. A chance encounter leads to work for Émilie, she wants you to erect some shelves Sunday, opens curtains you push through, without a care for being true, are you so selfish, or is this just naivety. You profess to having love for your two girls, want to keep them both and cover them in pearls, but I wonder what you'd tell her, if your wife had her own fella, I'm sure she'd love you just as much, after a whirl.

Watching this film the last time, some 45 years ago, upon it's original UK release, I was blown away. I felt I had never seen such beautiful sunny summer images, I was astonished at the use of posters and advertising hoardings for composition. I notice now that some of these aspects have coloured my own photographic sensitivities. I remember the film as one long celebration of happiness and the suggestion that with the right attitude life would be like this. Seeing it again, it is still undoubtedly beautiful and I possibly appreciate even more the wonderful cinematography, however, now I notice how subversive this movie is. I have a feeling that this is very much a personal film seen through Varda's eyes and she is suggesting that a woman might easily do as the second woman does in this without causing so much as a head to turn. I think not, this is fantasy. The guy is unreal, men don't lie around saying how happy they are all the time, never mind the way he fails to be affected by the incident. I imagine at the time I saw this as a depiction of a real possibility. I seem to remember thinking lots of things were possible in the 60s that have turned out not to be. Nevertheless, this is still a beautiful movie,

"It all adds up", says Francois to his mistress Emilie, explaining why he can love her and his wife Therese and his children equally. In her brilliant and provocative 1965 film, Le Bonheur, Agnes Varda (The Gleaners and I, Vagabond, Cleo From 5 to 7), raises the question of whether "open marriage" can work and answers it with a definite "maybe".

As the film opens, a carpenter, Francois (Jean-Claude Drouot), and his young (real-life) family are experiencing a Sunday afternoon picnic in the park. Shot in pastels and making use of exquisite color fades, Ms. Varda immerses us in the flowers, trees, and lakes of the French countryside. We are lulled by Mozart's languid Clarinet Quintet, yet soon sense that something is amiss. Communication appears superficial and few feelings are expressed. This mood carries over to the scene in their apartment complex where, in a family gathering that includes aunts and uncles, not much happens in the way of conversation.

When Francois is away on business, he meets an attractive telephone operator named Emilie. Soon he declares his love for her and claims that he has enough love within him to include her in his life, "I love you both and if I met you first, you would be my wife". Being honest and open, Francois tells Therese that he has loved another woman for over a month, but says that his love for her and his family remains stronger than ever. The love that Francois experiences is - the film states again and again - a natural occurrence, an addition, not a subtraction. However, Therese cannot separate herself from what has become her identity as wife and mother, leading to tragic consequences. She was, in the words of the lovely song, "Tree of Life", "only known as someone's mother, someone's daughter, or someone's wife."

At the end of the film, Mozart's Clarinet Quintet is replaced by the darker Adagio and Fugue in C Minor. Francois replaces one woman with another and continues his life without reflection, guilt, or self-doubt. In Le Bonheur, the characters are painfully pure and do not question their actions. Perhaps Ms.Varda is saying that, for Francois, happiness is seamless, that it will continue regardless, and that, in his world, people are simply viewed as interchangeable parts. In Varda's words, happiness is "a beautiful fruit that tastes of cruelty".

Agnès Varda's has said, "In my films, I always wanted to make people see deeply. I don't want to show things, but to give people the desire to see". One of the seminal works of the French New Wave, Le Bonheur was audacious in its day and still leaves us unsettled, 37 years later, yet able to see more deeply.

At first sight, Le Bonheur seems just a conventional film, with everything being too perfect. Each single frame is a beautiful picture in composition and color. We see a happily married couple, with charming and beautiful children, nice family picnics in the country, the sublime music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in two of his most beautiful pieces (Adagio and Fugue in C minor and the Clarinet Quintet). Happiness (Bonheur) and harmony is everywhere.

But then the husband meets another woman, very different from his wife, falls in love with her, and proposes a thesis: for him, happiness is not a subtractive affair - it all adds up. After being in love with his new lover, he manages to love his wife and children even more. Love, happiness, harmony should never be too much, Agnès Varda seems to say. But is it possible? Or, better: do people make it possible? Shouldn't it be possible?

That's why this apparently bourgeois film is, in fact, revolutionary. It proposes a new vision on certain matters that is, ultimately, extremely subversive. And it does so in a most contrasting environment.

That said, it has some of the most gorgeous images in film to look at. The use of colour is amazing. And, exactly for being so beautiful, the conclusion is so shocking.

In short: one of the most important films in History, one of the most subversive, and certainly one of the most beautiful. We can only say: thank you, Agnès Varda, for making it. Hope people will understand it better, in the future, and grasp the challenge you have cast.

How do you rate a film like this? It wasn't really made to be rated. Unfortunately, we live in bonehead times when American idol has made every loser a critic. So, I give it an 7 based only on my purely subjective view, compared to other films that have made a mark.

One moronic reviewer writes this film off as "A perfect little nothing...Agnes Varda's Le Bonheur is a perfect little composition. A nice, sweet portrait...There is no fault in this film, except that it feels a little empty. Varda's hand is light and inspired, and about as dramatic as its cheerful score...a wonderful ode to a summer's day, with barely a hint of winter." Gag.

That person obviously only watched part of the film (or, more than likely, played it in the background while surfing the internet) or he/she suffers from a Jeffrey Dahmer-like view of the world.

Believe me, the light and airy music and cinematography is there to fool you. Look deeper and there's some wicked commentary going on.

Varda's films are more valuable than film school for emerging filmmakers (unless you aspire to be one of those big-mouth "Film Makers" who loves to spout off in the video store or Starbucks).

This is a movie for people who can sit and watch. Not those who need to be spoon-fed their movies and can't sit for five minutes without fondling a cell phone.

This is perhaps best experienced without knowing how and where the film will go. The ending is definitely memorable and has lovely cinematography by Jean Rabier, one of the best-known New Wave cinematographers.

One of the most interesting aspects of the film is that the family at the center of the film is played by Jean-Claude Drouot, his wife Claire, and their two very young children. This will give a special kick to certain events in the film.

These events could have been treated in standard dramatic or even melodramatic fashion, but Agnes Varda works hard to de-emphasize the drama and keep the surfaces of the film as quiet as the pastoral scene which opens the film. All of the scenes with children are natural and true to life, reminding us how phony Hollywood kids can be. Are the simple scenes of domestic life with family and co-workers truly happiness ("le bonheur")?

The talented, handsome, and very sexy Jean-Claude Drouot could not be better in this role as someone who seems to be a complete narcissist.

Forty years ago I saw this movie three times. Triangel love affairs are the subject of many movies, but I've never seen it more beautifully done then in this movie.

I was especially impressed by the use of the music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

It is the Serenade for Winds in C minor (K. 388) written in 1782. This Serenade for Winds was transcribed by Mozart to the String Quintet in C minor (K. 406). One version is used for the first relationship, the other version for the second relationship. In this way they represent 'le Bonheur' (the Happinesss) in both relationships and the whole movie.

Technically speaking, "Le Bonheur" is a very well made film. The cinematography and Agnès Varda's direction were very nice--with some unusual but interesting camera angles and an interesting use of focus that betray that she knew what she was doing when it came to directing the picture. As for the story itself, it left me a bit cold...and much of it could have to do with the movie's New Wave sensibilities...sensibilities that may surprise you because the meaning of all this seems vague and the moral lesson even more ambiguous.

The film is about a French man, François. He would seem to have an admirable life, with a loving and beautiful wife, Thérèse, and two young children he adores. However, about a third of the way through the film, he begins an affair with Émilie--even though he openly acknowledges that he's STILL in love with his wife and finds her sexually desirable. He's a guy who, figuratively speaking, wants to have his cake and eat it too. The film seems, for a while, to validate the notion that polyandry is quite good and harmless. But the ending, like so many so-called 'New Wave' films muddles all this...leaving the viewer to wonder what this all means. I only assume that it really ISN'T about meaning but rather about a lack of meaning.

The film is extremely frank and rather matter-of-fact about sexuality and nudity. It's not really salacious but you do see quite a few breasts. But the story itself is a bit of an enigma. Well made but confusing in many ways. His motivations, his wife's VERY confusing motivations and the meaning of it all make this a very unconventional film. Worth seeing if you are a huge film buff but not among my favorite French films of the era.

I really do not care if this film, impeccably directed by Agnes Varda is ' subversive ' or not, or what she thought of the subject matter. On the surface it is about a man Francois, played well by Jean-Claude Drouot and his so-called right to have two lovers at the same time, and expecting his wife and lover to appreciate his magnificent virility and his equal love for both of them. I saw it when it came out in Paris in 1965 and loathed it, and seeing it again ( for the second time ) in my later years. I still loathe it, and I kind of respect the 20 year old, that I was, for disliking it. Dissecting the word ' bonheur ' it really means ' good hour ' and this for me, does not mean happiness. ' The Happiness ' was the English title, and they should have left it in French. And yes Francois does live his good hour going from one woman to another, and in revealing to his devoted wife what he is up to he goes into a speech that I wanted to hit him over the head for. Rhapsodic callousness truly does belong to the good hour, and that hour rapidly passes. I will not spoil the consequences of ' his ' choice of loving, and it is in my opinion appalling to watch. Varda is ambiguous here giving the audience Mozart's Adagio and Fugue in C Minor, using the adagio for the good hour and the Fugue for the horror of what happens after it, and there are even golden leaves to signify Autumn. It is true the Springtime of the heart has darkened but her visual use of image and music is on the surface superficial. And I repeat I have absolutely no idea what she was trying to convey in this film. But I know what the youth of 20 felt; repulsion, and my partner of the time loved the freedom to choose, and that was the end of my illusions concerning certain males who have a seemingly divine right to trample over feelings while living their own ' bonheur. ' I give it a reluctant 4 because it is beautiful to watch, and seductive in its to me nasty way. The fading in and out of scenes in colour is expertly done, and is well worth watching for that.

A man in a happy marriage with two kids begins an affair, sincerely feeling he has enough love for both women and that neither one will be loved less. To start with, it's absolutely beautiful to look at. Varda always seems to know exactly what to do with the image, where to put the camera, which direction to move, when to cut, what color to fade to; everything is absolutely perfect.

Moreover, the film is completely fascinating first because Varda deals with her subject with a rare honesty and forgiveness. Not a single character is unlikeable. Even if you see error in the husband's thinking, it is clear he believes with all of his heart that he truly can love both of these women at once and you sympathize with his sincerity. The wife is easy to care for, a good mother and very devoted, and the mistress is not someone you feel compelled to hate, either. She's not out to break up this marriage and she seems to really need this love.

And what makes the film endlessly interesting is in how ambiguous Varda is about her own feelings. She never leads you to pick a side, never encourages you to see one specific viewpoint or leave the film feeling a particular way about what happened. While the music (Mozart is used throughout most of the film) in the last 15 minutes would seem to suggest anger at the way things have turned out, you can also look at the early stages of the film and see the image of the idyllic family with pastoral music as too perfect a presentation, one that is not entirely believable. Varda even hints at this herself; after we've watched about five minutes of this family picnicking in the woods, she cuts almost immediately to nearly the same image in a TV advertisement, suggesting that a marriage that happy only exists in commercials to begin with.

This movie is rich! One of the richest out of the thousands I've seen. I had to pause it after every scene just to catch my breath and to digest the images and emotions that came from the screen. It is less like watching a movie and more like going to a painting exhibit of newly discovered Renoirs and Monets. The beauty and the music simply got my heart thumping, and then, all I can say is that the plot seems to emerge out of the art direction. Genius!

It is impossible for me to free my mind now from the images, which are startlingly fresh, in the way that "Letyat zhuravli" (The Cranes are Flying) was in 1957, or the opening shot of "Cleo de 5 a 7" was in 1962. The composition of every shot is immaculately precise in the manner of Jacques Tati's "Monsieur Hulot" movies, or Godard's "Une femme mariee" (1964) or the magazine industry, but Agnes Varda's movie is greater than all of these, because whereas those are static, motionless, almost feeling-less projects, hers has somehow managed to come across fluidly, effortlessly, vividly as anything before or after until the works of Kieslowski. It felt like I was watching a scene out of some family's life in heaven, and then, one of the children looks at the camera and offers some fruit, as if Varda is winking at us and saying, "Enjoy, come in. Be a part of our wonderful time." Can life really be so wonderful as it is in this movie? The movie goes on to probe that very question. And I am better for it.

There's something dreamlike about the way the main male character of this film drifts through it. And it is a treat to look at. Both his wife and his mistress are beautiful, as is some of the scenery. Note the extraordinary way Varda uses colour to distinguish the female characters, the clothes of wife sunflower yellow, of the mistress cornflower blue. That colour coding extends to the places around them. The only film I have seen with an even remotely similar colour sense is "Les Parapluies de Cherbourg" by Jacques Demy, Varda's husband. Le Bonheur never gives us a clear guide to what the main characters really fee. They live on the surface of their emotions but as an aesthetic experience the film is outstanding.

Le Bonheur (1965) was shown in the U.S. with the translated title "Happiness." It was written and directed by Agnès Varda.

Jean-Claude Drouot plays François Chevalier, a cheerful, optimistic carpenter. His real-life wife, Claire Drouot, plays his film wife, Thérèse. (Their real-life children play their two children.)

Happiness is not only the title of the movie, it's also the theme of the film. François and Thérèse tell each other over and over that they are happy. Why not? They have a good life, and a good family. They are young, attractive, healthy, and in love.

The only problem is that apparently François isn't as happy as he could be. When he meets a postal clerk, Émilie, he falls in love with her. Émilie is played by Marie-France Boyer who is very beautiful. In the film, she's also very willing. She knows François is married, and that he won't leave his wife. She's apparently OK with that. The rest of the plot moves forward from this point.

I find it surprising that a great woman filmmaker like Varda would have this attitude about infidelity. As another reviewer wrote, she treats women as fungible. (New word for me--it means mutually interchangeable.)

The movie has a very unusual palette. It displays broad patches of primary colors. According to the person who introduced the film, Varda was imitating the women's magazines of the day. They were, indeed, all about finding happiness, and they were illustrated with bold primary colors.

It's hard to know what Varda was thinking when she wrote and directed this movie. Over the last 50 years, many people have tried to correlate the plot of Le Bonheur with Agnès Varda's own concept of happiness. I guess we all get to guess, but who will decide which answer is best?

We saw this movie at the wonderful Dryden Theatre in the George Eastman Museum in Rochester, NY. It's part of a Varda retrospective cosponsored by Rochester Institute of Technology and the Eastman Museum. It was a luxury to see this movie on the large screen. It won't work as well on the small screen, but you might find it worth your while to watch it. It's a film that's hard to pin down, so I don't give it a whole-hearted recommendation. Still, it's part of Varda's oeuvre. If you're a Varda fan, you might want to see it out of a drive for completion.

To me the film shows really well how a big number of men live with no care in the world while those close to them tragically suffer. And the worst thing is that it was like this, it is like this and most likely will be like this for a long time

in was really hard to watch and the feeling of injustice gets worse and worse the longer you watch it

both music and the picture and really beautiful and happy most of the time, but it only makes it worse because of that contrast with what is actually going on in the story

i do recommend you watch tho

funny enough it reminded me of Barbie, but of course Barbie is much easier to watch since it at least gives you hope.

Le Bonheur is, in my opinion, one of Varda's most underrated films, partially due to the fact that it was not distributed in the USA until the 1990s. Another reason is that Le Bonheur potentially contradicts --or at least complicates -- Varda's legacy as a feminist New Wave filmmaker. This film is about the human condition... a condition as elusive as the film's underlying message. One of the most unique features of Le Bonheur is its ability to implicate the viewer into the interpretation of the film. In other words, how you react to this film depends on your own, pre-determined values and morals. Varda's narrative is open-ended enough to allow for a variety of interpretations. Even the film's lyrical and poetic treatment of the story could be interpreted as either an act of bitter cynicism, or as a matter-of-fact statement about the cyclical nature of life.

Ha! Talk about having your cake and eating it! "François" (Jean-Claude Drouot) is happily married to "Thérèse" (Claire Drouot) and living in a small apartment with their two children "Pierrot" and "Gisou". They are a loving couple and seem perfectly content with life. Then "François" is despatched to do some work away from home and when calling his boss from the post office encounters "Émilie" (Marie-France Boyer) with whom he swaps a smile. That's just the beginning as the two chat a little, flirt a little and then... Now he isn't a bad man in any malevolent sense, he genuinely loves his wife and makes it clear to his new friend that she will always take priority - a situation that "Émilie" appears to be quite willing to accept - albeit reservedly. Thing is, on a family picnic he decides that it's only fair that his wife know the truth. On the face of it, at least that's an half way honest thing to do but, well you'll have to watch and see. There's something unnervingly inconclusive about this film. Nobody is inherently bad or evil or even deliberately thoughtless, yet he is possibly one of the most selfish people I've ever seen (benignly) portrayed in cinema. He genuinely thinks his cherry-picking, almost like a job-share, arrangement will satisfy these women. It's tightly cast with a sufficient minimum of dialogue to augment a story that is surprisingly thought-provoking to watch. Maybe a little over-scored but well worth eighty minutes before a denouement that might make you want to look your own partner in the eye! Or maybe into a mirror...?

Happiness is something in life that so many people seek and can't fully get, or maybe happiness comes in smaller doses than for others. What is happiness other than the feeling of being fulfilled and being around people that make one feel good?

In Le Bonheur, which is what the title translates to, Agnes Varda presents a story where the characters are actually content with what's happening - provided, of course, that the status quo not simply is kept, and in this case here a handsome married man Francois (Jean-Claude Drouot, later a professional but then a first-time film actor) happy with his beautiful wife Therese (Claire Drouot, I assume his real life wife, and also the kids are their kids, I'll get back to that momentarily), and then his mistress, a post office worker Emilie (also the beautiful Marie-France Boyer, gosh French people in the 60's looked good) - but things underneath the surface could combust at any moment. I don't mean to say this is a film with a lot of tension, at least not until it gets to a certain point in the last twenty minutes.

But, and maybe this is only my reading on it, the point of view here is male, and for as gentle or simple as Francois appears, it's his happiness over others (or Therese's at least) that matters. Oh, for sure, he is happy that he is with his wife and that she is happy and that the kids are happy. And wouldn't it be so nice, the idea may occur to some of us (or, really, not a lot of us), that a man could carry on being so happy with two women and that the *wife* as well as the other woman would be ok with how happy and status-quo everything is. What's so fascinating to me is that there is always underneath this sense that things could collapse all so easily, that the backdrop itself which is so sunny and covered with flowers, including that opening image of the sunflower itself, is idyllic and yet, it's....

I think a little analogy here is in order; I teach driving sometimes, and one of the things that I tell students is that there is a difference between a right and a privilege, so for example a right is something that is guaranteed (or, should be, but that's another point for another time), while a privilege is not something immediately granted to you, like you have to take a test to get your learner's permit much less on how to drive. If you have that privilege, there also (cue Uncle Ben) come great responsibilities with that power to use and drive and maintain a vehicle. Being happy in a relationship, or relationships plural, seems to be as a privilege, but some people think it's their right to be happy not only with everyone, but for them to be happy with the way things are. And I don't even mean to invoke the old White Male Privilege point here, but.... maybe I kind of do.

Would the situation, for Francois, be okay if the situation reversed? Like if his dear adorable wife Therese met someone else one day and carried on an affair and felt a certain, and as Francois points out when asked by his new "Happy Place" Emilie a different, happiness, would he be alright in that happiness, in that person, being shared with someone else? It seems like it should be too easy to say this film has a Feminist perspective because Varda is using certain documentary techniques, or rather in the casting of it being largely real people and a real couple with their real (as in non-professional actor) kids, and that there are others who Francois interacts with (like in the climactic point I won't mention here where Therese goes away from him). But there is a critique underlying this, if in a certain gentle way, of how horrific this situation becomes through Francois's self-centered actions.

I mention the documentary technique, but that's not entirely correct either. What is so striking and engaging and impressive about Le Bonheur is how much the use of color is so bright and precise, the music (much by Mozart) makes for pleasant, sunny locations and even in bedrooms it feels like the sun is shining just right so, and the editing is meant to emphasize a person's point of view. When Francois sits down with Emilie for example at an outdoor restaurant, notice how directly we are meant to be seeing other people around the characters from one of their points of perspective. This is how it is for most if not all people when in such a place, we aren't looking solely at one person, it's the entire environment that makes an impression; this also happens when Francois first comes to Emilie's apartment and how all of those little details in her place add up. This has some of the most specific and, with some hard cuts, direct/impactful editing choices I've seen in a Nouvelle vague film.

As for these performers, they are quite sensational at being natural, and emphasizing how much this happiness is deeply felt and expressed, even as it seems so tenuous; Drouot's Francois is a lot of smiles here and kind eyes, but again it's all on if he's getting this dose of happiness all the time - from both women in his life, and his kids. Drouot really pulls off a character who is remarkable to watch mostly because of how unremarkable he comes off, like he's your "Average" white male dude who can get the girl on the side because, well, what else will Emilie do with her time, and she's happy that she's happy, and the wife.... well, that's another story. But both actresses also are completely natural in this setting and under Varda's direction what is so good is how they are so at ease for much of the time, even with this very real conflict hanging over what's going on. She observes and what I assume gently guides without forcing anything.

If I had a small nit to pick (not enough to lower the rating, more of an observation), it might have been even more compelling if (minor spoiler) Francois' revelation to Therese about what's been going on happened a little earlier, like even five or ten minutes in the film, so that what happens in the aftermath could have some more time to develop as what comes next is even more shattering - mostly for what it says about how not only tenuous a woman's happiness is for a man but how easily it can be replaced. But what develops here is this very fine mixture, like a gorgeous stew that is extremely bright and chipper on the surface, like oh look how cute those kids are with that Dad (on Father's Day no less) and the mom... and it could all fall apart so very simply and swiftly. All because of the privilege of commitment, which men have taken for granted for (checks notes) since commitment began.

François, a young carpenter, lives a happy, uncomplicated life with his wife Thérèse and their two small children. One day he meets Emilie, a clerk in the local post office.

This film contains many feminist elements that reflect the movements that were taking place among women during that time. These feminist movements emphasized "consciousness raising" among women that encouraged the female population to refuse to be silent and "to act in their own interests," an idea that embodied the words of French feminist Simon de Beauvoir, author of The Second Sex, when she stated that "women's identity was a social construct that stood in the way of full equality." It is subversive, but cleverly so. On the surface, this is a man openly involved in an affair, and rather than deal with the consequences, everything just sort of works out okay for him. Obstacles are presented as way too easy. This is not real life. But while on the surface the message is about a man who easily has two women, the deeper message is to be found through a closer inspection.

François leads an idyllic life full of happiness. He loves his wife and their young children; he enjoys his work as a carpenter; and the country town where he lives is awash with sunshine and smiling faces. So when he meets a pretty girl working at the post office, what could be more natural and right than to take a further sip from the bowl of happiness?

Le Bonheur is a delicious sugar-coated bonbon with a bitter centre. What disturbs the viewer most is the cool unjudging gaze of Varda's camera: the characters are naive but not cruel, and when tragedy strikes it comes about from a childlike pursuit of happiness. Then the seasons change, and life continues with no-one wiser than before...

The emphatic pastel colour palette of the film, and the music of Mozart that plays insistently throughout, are beautiful and cloyingly seductive. They entice us into the innocent fantasy world of François, where all it takes to do the right thing is to follow your desires. What could possibly go wrong?

Le Bonheur is an exquisite, delicate, ambiguous masterpiece of the type that Hollywood was, is and always will be incapable of producing.