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Things are not well with a young couple who live, together with their little child, in a villa near Genoa. The wife has a secret lover and while her husband is visiting the city on business, she is visited by a woman-a distant relative-who once lived in the same villa. The mysterious woman shares her memories with the wife and gives her somewhat contradictory advice about how to deal with her complicated love life.

"La Femme De Nulle Part" (1922) ( The Woman From Nowhere ) is confirmation of the great and refined film style that can be seen in the films of Herr Louis Delluc. Alas, there are very few such films as the great French film director died very young.

On this occasion, Herr Delluc constructs an exemplary oeuvre of early silent virtuosity, typical of his exceptional work. "La Femme De Nulle Part" has a strong and imaginative film narrative wherein Herr Delluc uses numerous flashbacks to represent the different points of view of the three main characters. The mysterious woman's flashbacks illustrate the good times she had in the villa many years before. The wife of course must deal with her own adultery and we are also shown the doubts and sorrow of the husband away in Genoa on his business trip.

The film is about loss and missed opportunities and skilfully uses outdoor scenery to help create an atmosphere of larger than life romance. Frau Ève Francis as the woman from nowhere gives an appropriate performance under the supervision of Herr Delluc, her husband.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must get to know an unknown Teutonic rich heiress.

Herr Graf Ferdinand Von Galitzien http://ferdinandvongalitzien.blogspot.com

Between terrific filming locations, careful cinematography, and Louis Delluc's keen direction, this can claim a splendid artistry in the fundamental arrangement of shots and scenes. In an unsophisticated manner, this movie is plainly beautiful as it greets our eyes. I'm not as fully convinced that this extends to the acting; though early cinema gradually shifted toward more nuanced and natural performances, no small part of the silent era was characterized by exaggerated body language and facial expressions to compensate for lack of sound and verbal dialogue, and carrying over from the stage - and this absolutely fits in the latter category. That's not inherently a bad thing, though for some modern viewers it certainly might be a factor that limits engagement. Star Ève Francis, in particular, pointedly approaches each scene as if she were in a theater, trying to emote for those seats in the very back of the gallery, to the point that even as someone that dearly love silent films and firmly believes that some of the best films ever made hail from the silent era, her style is a tad off-putting.

Just as noteworthy, or possibly even more so, is that the story Delluc wrote is decidedly simple: straight, narrow, and short beyond what mild deviations its flashbacks could be said to portend. A woman must choose; a stranger, briefly invited into the home, is less an integral part of the narrative and more a symbol, a theme in and of themselves or a plainspoken reflection thereof, hearkening to another type and time of storytelling. When the woman does make her choice in this picture of barely over one hour, that symbol becomes emphatically heavy-handed in the last minutes. Other characters are seen in passing, but they are of even less importance. Don't get me wrong - I appreciate the forthright tack of authenticity that Delluc strikes with his film-making, and in the tale he imparts, and there's little mistaking the discerning mind of a literary critic putting together this abbreviated story with the same hands that would pull another apart bit by bit to examine each piece. I also appreciate that this represents fare that would surely appeal only to those who are already enamored of the silent era, and even then not necessarily to all.

I do like 'La femme de nulle part,' for my part. I see what Delluc was doing, and I admire it, even if I don't agree with every creative decision that was made along the way. Is this something that one needs to go out of their way to see? I don't think so. It's a fine feature, worth remembering and recognizing; one hundred years later, however, it isn't necessarily a silent feature that demands viewership in the same way that many of its contemporaries do. Mark this as one for those cinephiles curious and devoted, in my opinion.