La moglie dell'aviatore

The French film La femme de l'aviateur (1981) was shown in the U. S. with the translated title The Aviator's Wife. It was written and directed by Éric Rohmer.

Philippe Marlaud plays François, a young man who works at the post office while studying for law school. His girlfriend, Anne, is portrayed by Marie Rivière .

The relationship between François and Anne doesn't make sense. François is a decent, friendly guy. Anne is a sour, dissatisfied, misanthrope.

All of the characters in Rohmer's films talk and talk, and that's what we get in the first third and last third of the movie.

However, the film comes to life in the middle third, when Eric meets Lucie, portrayed perfectly by Anne-Laure Meury. They talk as well, but they also have sequences in a park where something actually happens.

There's no way that a romance could be sparked. In the film, Lucie is 15. Yes, she has a great outlook on life and is very creative. Still, she's 15 and Eric is 20, so the relationship couldn't work. However, the chemistry is there, and while Meury is on screen, the movie really is effective.

Rohmer was the last of the famous French New Wave directors. All of his "Six Moral Tales" films range from excellent to superb. When he had finished the six movies, he moved to three "Comedies and Proverbs." The Aviator's Wife was the first of these.

The film has a solid IMDb rating of 7.5. I would have rated it a 10 if Rohmer had showed us more of the relationship between François and Lucie. However, that's not the movie that Rohmer wrote and directed. I gave that movie an 8.

It's always fun watching Rohmer's heroes and heroins develop their characters in a 90-min of story-telling.

The aviator Christian shows up talking for 5 minutes in the beginning, and then he turns to just a subject that we all audience, including François, have to know him from how Anne will describe him and how Lucie will envision him.

The audience can only see aviator's wife once from a photo Anne posses, but till we see it, including François, we learn all of our assumption made from Lucie's smart guessing will need to be re-assumed otherwise.

The last five minutes of the movie indicates François will get himself to be going after Lucie, for he is made believe Lucie may not seem as straightforward as he felt. His role somehow imitates to Christian now.

So much fun with so minimal resources of moving making. Solute Eric.

THE AVIATOR'S WIFE - Eric Rohmer / France 1981 (3.5 STARS) 15 December 2003: It is always difficult to get overtly excited about an Eric Rohmer film or make any relative comparisons with conviction - Eric Rohmer's works are almost like Jazz music, delicate in their appeal and full of irony, yet not given to the charts. The Aviator's Wife, the 1st in Rohmer's series of Comedies & Proverbs is subtle like poetry by full of the irony of urban existence. Set in his hometown Paris (as most of his films are), this is a film about a young woman's insecurity about growing old lonely, and a young man's obsession with the slightly older woman. Artfully made with a color palette that seems to reflect the hues of the lives of the characters, the film is talkative yet reflective and insecure with a certain confidence. . Mise-en-scene: The character's motivations are developed with painstaking detail in an attempt to build characters that we may grow to either love or loath, but irrespective respect as real people. I was drawn to the young man's character in particular and to his singularly obsessive personality even though he was gentle and carefree at first sight.

. The older woman was so typically stereo cast as idiosyncratic, intense and detached in a manner only the French can be. In the final scene one feel for the boy when he discovers that the young girl he meets on the bus has been feeding him all along, but before we have time to react, Rohmer makes a comic joke of the situation by spinning the movie into a loop so that we end up almost where we started, except that we've got a different man that the protagonist is trailing this time around. . The Cinematography, is bland, almost dogma like (way before the birth of Dogma- this is 1981), and there is almost no emphasis at technique beyond functionality. Yet sound is used to haunting effect, with ambient sound playing a potent character. Whether this was because of poor on location sound or whether this has been used as a stylistic element to enhance the narrative is however difficult to tell.

I could call this one of my favorite Rohmers, but there isn't one about which I wouldn't say that. Somewhere I've read that Rohmer's male characters are less perfectly, or maybe it's less caringly, drawn than his female. Yet I don't think there's one whose mistakes, harms, self-deceptions I haven't either fallen into or sidestepped one time or another. "Aviator's Wife" flows to and then from a single easy-to-miss but magically telling moment, worked by sprite of the park, Lucie, in the post-park café across from the building into which the aviator has temporarily disappeared. François nods off for a second or two. With a touch on the cheek, Lucie wakes him, immediately, and tells him it's been ten minutes. Circumstance and moment trap him into believing, believing spontaneously like a babe, even though he hasn't believed a word from his Anne all day. Up until the final reel, Rohmer seems to be working to make us dislike Anne, even as our embarrassment for François brings us close to hatred for him. Anne's tired from the start, weary and wary of men who think they're in love. I was shocked that she's only 25, just as I was that wise Lucie is only 15 (and that François is as many years as he is past, say, 12). Even understanding the self-interest and harmfulness of François' self-deception, it's hard not to wince at Anne's defenses, however wise and justified they are. Better to savor the funnily wise Lucie. For twenty-plus years until this recent viewing, I remembered Lucie but could only picture Anne. Anne in my memory: dark unruly hair, bony, going to or leaving a lonely single bed, like a convalescent. I remembered her as having a cold, yet she doesn't.

The film's proverb is "It's impossible to think about nothing." Long ago in a language class, a language I never carried through with and retain very little of, when the gruff prof challenged me, "Stop hesitating!" I got up the nerve and the unlikely spontaneity to complain understandably in the language, "I stop to think when I speak English. This is normal for me. Why can't I hesitate in ________?" "When you speak ________," he shot back without missing a beat, "don't think!" François and, perhaps more justifiably, Anne dig their respective holes because neither of them can manage not to think, neither can successfully think "rien."

But Rohmer's never so simple, so expository. That moment in the café, caught unthinking, François is deceived. Trivially, but deceived all the same. Does that instant overturn the proverb? Don't know.

The "proverb" of this film doesn't get consummated till the very end when we come to know that our philosopher hero, Francois, is arrested by his insecurities, suspicions, restlessness and LOVE. His mind always chooses the path of alienation which shapes the lonely tragedy of his love. Likewise, Anne's style of love is dictated by her own personality and Lucie's lure is by hers. It's a good Rohmerian character study!