Il medico di campagna

Jean-Pierre is a grumpy doctor who falls sick and his way to cope with bad news is to ignore them. He works in the countryside with younger female doctor Nathalie and their patients are very realistic country people.

The story is simple and treated with realism. Perhaps a bit slow moving, but moving in the right direction. Jean-Pierre goes out of his way to get an elderly patient out of the hospital, so that he can die at home, with his dog. Not the sort of scene easy to digest, but nevertheless part of a doctor's life.

When Jean-Pierre conditions are not improving, he doesn't want to pursue further treatment. My interpretation is that he has nothing to live for... until - as to be expected - something starts to grow between Jean-Pierre and Nathalie and with that, a will to live.

A quiet, somber movie without the usual French excesses. Well worth watching.

To urban eyes, the rural doctor stereotype is a walking museum of what village medicine used to look like in bygone days. French filmmakers excel in portraying this endangered species and they have done so yet again in the delightful character-rich film The Country Doctor (2016) (Médecin de campagne). To enhance our sense of the fading rural life, the story is framed around a doctor whose own time is fading as the irreplaceable linchpin of his village community.

Made by medic-turned-director Thomas Lilti, the plot is best described as a series of insightful vignettes of rural medicine practised the old-fashioned way. The greatly admired Dr Jean-Pierre (François Cluzet) has been caring for the village most of his life and now learns that he has a life- threatening tumour. Ordered to slow down for treatment, medical authorities send an assistant doctor, Nathalie Delezia (Marianne Denicourt) who quickly proves unnervingly competent and willing to lighten his load. Predictably, Jean-Pierre does not take well to losing his role as sole-carer for the village and mischievously makes things difficult for her. He sends her into farms and homes with known annoyances to discourage her from staying, but when she proves her worth in medical emergencies he is forced to accept her help. As his prognosis worsens, the growing respect between them becomes noticeably warmer as they both confront an uncertain future.

In many respects, this story is a predictable cluster of clichés made attractive by a picturesque rural setting captured perfectly with camera-work sympathetic to its natural beauty. Like in many countries, a rural doctor's life is a public script of farmyard and roadside accidents, comforting home visits, and a surgery full of patiently waiting regulars with ailments both serious and small. The village community adores their doctor and the doctor in turn is a caring father to all. But this is a film where the simple plot and its constructions are less important than its characterisations. François Cluzet is France's version of Dustin Hoffman, an actor who radiates open warmth, compassion and understanding. His almost musical face can express emotion with a single note consisting of a slight raising of an eyelid, or a wry turn of a lip that hints of a smile, or a faintly furrowed brow that speaks concern. Marianne Denicourt is perfectly cast as the late blooming nurse turned doctor, whose big eyes converse at first hesitantly then warmly with the reluctant senior medic. While the plot may be clichéd, their relationship has none of the conventional hallmarks of romance. Indeed, it is only in the final minutes that we sense their comfort in one another's presence.

This is a fine example of classic French romantic drama. It is totally driven by characterisation that is earthy, understated and open-hearted with a rich rural aesthetic that evokes the mutual dependencies that are typical amongst country people. It speaks of the unstated and unseen organic wholeness of community that is rare in urban life. It is also a film where most viewers leave with an unmistakable smile.

When you get a good movie, that is a good story, with good actors and the whole thing knits together with no real nasties, then you finish the film in some frustration because it needed to go on another hour or so, so that you can wallow in the good feeling it gives out. Real people is the theme, real situations and no horrid surprises out of the blue. I enjoy this genre of French films, I wish other countries could grasp the idea of escapism that is quite realistic - so that life could be like this. Some familiar faces from other movies, as ever the beautiful French countryside stars too. I'm off to buy the dvd.

Other reviewers here have written about 'A Country Doctor' far better than I can. Still, I want to add a big thumbs up. This is a great, very well-acted movie that touches and warms the heart. It's about a country doctor who has devoted his life to helping his patients in the small village he lives in. When he is diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor, he is assigned an assistant, who happens to be a female. There is some obvious tension between them at first. The script writer wisely uses their developing relationship, both professional and personal, in a totally tasteful way.

One thing I like about some French movies I've seen is that the plots are simple, but the results are profound because of the script, acting, etc.; also, there are many sub-plots that enrich the movie and give a lot of actors an opportunity to be in a movie. All the minors actors in this movie do a great job.

Because it's a French movie there's no discussion about money, what any treatment costs, etc. The French have a great health care system. They value human beings. Who wants to worry about money when one's health is involved?

Anyone remember the James Herriot "All Creatures Great and Small" novels? This reminded me a little of them as we meet the established and popular "Dr. Werner" (François Cluzet). He is the only physician amongst his community and they look up to and respect him. When he is diagnosed with cancer, his own doctor and friend, "Dr. Norès" (Christophe Odent) suggests he get some help, and so nominates "Nathalie" (Marianne Denicourt). She's partially qualified, was a nurse for ten years and is enthusiastic. That's more than can be said for him and for the commit at large. Both are set in their ways. He also tends to believe in his own publicity and initially resents her very presence. What now ensues is all rather predicable, but the effort from Cluzet quite engaging. His character has a son "Vincent" (Félix Moati) but that relationship isn't especially close and his ageing, widowed, mother (Isabelle Sadoyan) is struggling to stay independent. It's his job that has become his main raison d'être and his gradual realisation that things must change, that he must learn to confide in people and that he must focus on his own treatment is well portrayed by an actor who demonstrates these frustrations subtly. There's not a great deal of dialogue, just a gentle exercise in coming to terms with your own mortality. It's also not averse at illustrating just how resistant communities can be to change, too - a self perpetuating cycle that can prove difficult to break. Not great, not particularly memorable, but it's worth a watch for Cluzet.