La lectrice

The output of director Michel Deville is difficult to categorise, assuming one feels the need to do so. He is nothing if not varied. Between 1985 and 1988 he gave us the erotic thriller 'Peril en la Demeure', probably his most successful film, followed by the bizarre and surreal 'Paltoquet' which must be accounted a noble failure and finally the delightful 'La Lectrice'.

This is to my knowledge the only one of Raymond Jean's novels to be filmed so all credit to Michel and Rosalinde Deville for spotting the potential. It is the type of film generally referred to as being 'very French'. If by that is meant stylish, literate, well-constructed, tastefully erotic and caring more about character than plot then it certainly qualifies.

It is essentially about where reality finishes and fantasy begins as Constance the book lover and Marie the professional book reader, both played by the sensuous and enchanting Miou-Miou, call to mind very strongly William Styron's observation that 'one lives several lives while reading.'

The rather quirky clients who hire her to read aloud to them prefer subject matter that reflects their lives and predilections. The handsome young man confined by an accident to a wheelchair asks her to read one of Baudelaire's most erotic poems, one of six of his that were banned in 1857. The lonely businessman has a taste for pornography but has to settle for 'The Lover' of Duras although in his case Marie's actions speak louder than words. The general's widow loves the prose of Karl Marx(!?) whilst the magistrate has a penchant for de Sade's '120 Days of Sodom.' The expression on Marie's face when her eyes light upon the extract he has chosen is absolutely priceless.

As the businessman Patrick Chesnais picked up a César and in the cast are two splendid representatives of the 'old school' namely Pierre Dux as the magistrate and Maria Casares as the widow.

The Production Design and Art Direction are superb and Deville again utilises classical music to great effect. Here it is Beethoven who does the honours.

This piece is really to do with the power of words and how vital they are in both enriching the mind and unlocking the imagination. As such, alas, it is a voice crying in the wilderness to so many of the current generation who spend their waking hours glued to screens.

There's more than a little touch of Pirandello in the night about this entry in which a young woman, Constance, is not only reading a book entitled The Reader, to her husband in bed but also projects herself on to the eponymous character, Marie, and acts out either her own (Constance) fantasies or those of the fictional Marie or a combination of both. Given the task of carrying the film Miou-Miou is more than up to it and freshness is added by both the location, Arles, albeit little more than the picturesque narrow streets traversed by Marie between gigs, and the supporting cast, relatively unknown outside France though certainly well respected - especially Brigitte Catillon and Patrick Chesnais - within it. It's unquestionably a film that will divide opinion between those who will surrender to its whimsy, offbeat charm and dialogue and those who will denounce it as soft-porn with a press agent. As for me, I love Brigitte Catillon in anything.

Our protagonist, played by Miou-Miou, is a mischievous, whimsical and smart young woman who is looking for an occupation that will engage her. The adventures she has during her fantasies of what the job as a travelling reader would be, are charming little trips that we take with her. This is a smart and engaging little film. I dare you to not fall in love with her or this film.

One evening in bed a young woman (Miou-Miou) begins to read a book called "La Lectrice" to her husband. It tells the story of Marie (Miou-Miou again), who decides to place an advert in her local newspaper offering her services as a reader. This results in her being hired by a wide range of the town's inhabitants, often with unexpected results. A teenage boy in a wheelchair (Regis Royer) asks her to read Maupassant and Baudelaire; the Hungarian widow of a general (Maria Cazares) selects her favourite passages from the works of Marx and Lenin; a businessman (Patrick Chesnais) with no time to read seems to be more interested in Marie than in the book she is reading; a young girl (Charlotte Farran) whose mother is too busy to read to her requests Alice In Wonderland. The town's authorities are constantly suspicious of Marie's new profession and the strange effect it seems to be having on some of her clients.

The complex structure of the film is a delight, constantly switching between scenes involving Marie and her clients and those from the books she is reading. Strong sensual overtones emerge as some of the clients confuse the services Marie is offering with those they imagine she is offering.

Miou-Miou is excellent in the role of Marie, the southern town of Arles in winter looks magnificent, and the whole thing is driven along by the music of Beethoven. The overall effect is to heighten the viewer's interest in books and reading and make them want to seek out some of the books included in the film. Highly recommended for bibliophiles everywhere.

Even the most ardent bibliophiles have to set aside their books when the theater lights go down, but this playful French import at least offers some consolation, in a sense attempting to approximate with the written word what Juzo Itami did with noodles and egg yolk in 'Tampopo'. One of the joys of a good book is of course the vicarious thrill of escapism, something Miou-Miou discovers firsthand while reading Raymond Jean's novel (of the same name as the film) and imagining herself as its protagonist: a professional reader who finds her choice of books somehow reflecting the idiosyncrasies of each client. This is clearly a film working on several levels at once, but a refresher course in European literature may be required to fully appreciate it. The visual scheme is offbeat and arresting, bringing the pages of each selected novel to colorful life, but the script is perhaps too infatuated with its own love of language, creating an elegant and infuriating puzzle where the patterns of each separate piece are more attractive than the finished picture.