Loulou

Depardieu plays convincingly (and with charm) the bum-leech-delinquent of the title; he is also the "heartthrob" (?) of the film, while Huppert is equally fine as Nelly, the middle class woman who falls in love with him. I think Pialat is pointing out the complexity and sometimes irrationality of human behavior, while (a bit like Pasolini) he also tries to look at the humane and tender side of the scoundrels. (5/10)

It might seem crude to suggest that "Loulou" was made for the single purpose of getting Gerard Depardieu and Isabelle Huppert, two of the biggest stars of the French film industry then (and now), in bed together; on the other hand, it's hard to think of any other reason for making it (or seeing it). They do share a strong chemistry, and Huppert may never have looked better, but their characters, like all the others, lack interest and depth: all they do is eat, drink, argue and screw, in no particular order. The script is void (there is not a shred of plot, and barely any dramatic conflict, in this 105-minute movie), and the direction is totally pedestrian. *1/2 out of 4.

Bored, restless housewife Isabelle Huppert leaves her brutish husband for an overage juvenile delinquent, played by Gerard Depardieu in one of the roles that made him an unlikely international sex symbol. The film is an uninhibited look at the seamier side of romantic Paris, but may be altogether too dark for its own good, and not only in terms of lighting: the script itself is often unforgivably vague. A talented cast gives the largely improvised non-story an almost documentary feel, but with no sympathetic characters (and with a distracting lack of motivation) the film rambles on interminably in no particular direction. In the end it amounts to little more than just another exercise in urban spiritual malaise, complete with stock footage of the cuckold husband blowing a lonely late-night saxophone in his empty apartment, with the TV flickering silently in the background. Not even the most opaque European art-house mood piece can support that kind of cliché.

This is the pathetic story of a woman who leaves her well-off and educated husband for Loulou (Gerard Depardieu), an unemployed ex-con. The storyline doesn't deviate much from this premise outside of a few interesting anecdotes here and there, and the rest of the film is spent on depicting the interactions between the characters.

So why does this simple film deserve eight stars? In my opinion, it's because Pialat has focused his attention on a single element that dominates all aspects of its development: realism. Characters depicted are paradoxical and confused, just as many people are when it comes to love and relationships. There is no soundtrack to distract the viewer. Perhaps most interesting of all is the way the film is written and acted; every line seems spontaneous, not scripted and polished. Because of this, the film really succeeds in the impression that you really are looking through a window into people's lives. It's all great cinema; the techniques used in this film really should be used more frequently.

Make no mistake, though: this is an actor's film. All three of the leads are equally brilliant. We can feel the raw emotion when one of them make a sudden outburst, though we may not always understand their motivations. This movie certainly would not have been the same without them.

I recommend this film to anyone who enjoys art-house cinema.

Given the exhaustive and thoughtful review by the previous poster, I won't be redundant. This movie contains one of the best lines I've ever heard: As Nelly rides away with LouLou on his motorcycle, Andre poutfully spouts (rough english) "But you can't discuss books with him!"; Nelly replies "I don't discuss books, I read them!".

Priceless.