La fille seule

It is good thing Ledoyen is a seriously babe-a-licious hottie because she fills up every frame of this tedious and uneventful nonstory. In "A Single Girl", the camera follows Valérie (Ledoyen) around in real time, dogging her as she walks and walks and works and talks and walks and works and smokes and talks and works some more. This exercise in pure voyeurism shows us Valérie as she sits in a cafe telling her boyfriend she's pregnant. It shows her going to her new job as a room service waitress in a hotel...no cutaways, no fast forwards; just a continuum - every step she takes, down the street, around the corner, etc. We watch her put on her uniform and begin work...etc. On and on until about the 1:25 mark when we cut to a new day and Valérie, whose child is now a toddler, as she's talking with her mom in a park. Shortly thereafter the film ends. No story, just voyeurism. For what it is, it is very well done. Sound good? If so, watch it. If not, don't. (C+)

A SINGLE GIRL (Benoît Jacquot - France 1995).

A little known gem with the beautiful Virginie Ledoyen in the lead. I have a special relation with some films and this is certainly one of them. I first saw it - not long after it came out - on Dutch public television in my final year in high school. I thought the girl in the main role (Virginie Ledoyen) was the coolest girl I ever saw and the film always stuck with me. Later on, largely due to her performance in this film, she would become a big star and continued to be in the limelight and even played alongside Leonardo DiCaprio in THE BEACH (2000), so that's probably why I kept remembering her role in LA SEULE FILLE.

For a large part, the film plays in real time as the camera follows Valérie on the day she finds out she's pregnant. She starts a new job in a hotel as a maid. Her day-to-day routines are followed, her various encounters with the hotel guests and her intermittent meetings with her boyfriend at a nearby café. He doesn't know how to handle the situation, he doesn't have a job and cannot seem to make up his mind about anything, let alone this situation. He is a bit of a loser. Off course Valérie is in the toughest spot but somehow she never ceases to lose control or overview of the situation. She is on screen all the time as the camera follows her constantly while she walks down the corridors of the hotel, in the elevator, walking down the streets. Even though she has an attitude, is arrogant and acts a bit too wise for a girl her age, she remains absolutely fascinating throughout the film.

The lack of plot hardly mattered to me, because it's compensated by Virginie Ledoyen's radiant presence. This is the perfect example of a film where one actor or actress completely makes it work.

Camera Obscura --- 9/10

"A Single Girl" is an absorbing experience. Nothing really happens and there's not much dialogue, but it's completely engrossing. It's about a morning in the life of a hauntingly beautiful woman, Valerie, who's at a crossroads in her life. It's filmed in real time, meaning there are no cut-aways that skip time. If Valerie needs to get somewhere, we watch her walk to that place. There's no narration or "traveling" music. It's as if we are Valerie. What makes the film work so well is the wonderful, subtle performance by Virginie Ledoyen.

"La Fille seule" is an absolute gem of a film that is particularly fascinating because its structural simplicity belies a complex, multi-layered character study. And the subject of writer/director Jacquot's scrutiny is a headstrong, independent young woman who, while acknowledging her vulnerability in the face of several personal crises, refuses to sit idly by and play the victim. The camera utterly adores actress Virginie Ledoyen (who portrays Valerie with raw vibrance), which is perhaps why there is never a dull moment in a film that was shot in real time so that viewers could get a glimpse of even the most trivial of daily tasks that Valerie undertakes. What is also interesting is Jacquot's low-keyed exploration of sexual harassment in the workplace and of how brief, chance encounters with strangers can have long-term effects on our personal attitudes and perceptions.

Like HIGH NOON, this film is largely set in real time, as it follows a day in the life of the young woman of the condescending title. Unlike the classic Western, there is no action melodrama, no compression of crises or events, no heroes or villains, no tension. This is not to say it's not an unusual day - the heroine informs her boyfriend of their accidental pregnancy, begins a new job and decides to change her life.

The film starts in a cafe, as Valerie tells her unemployed boyfriend Remi that she is pregnant. He is a selfish, shiftless idler, and his reaction is predictably self-centred. She goes to the hotel where she is starting work, attracting jealous hostility from one fellow waitress, lecherous advances from a waiter, and fending off friendly gestures from another colleague.

During the course of the morning, she serves an irritable Italian couple, a pleasant French businessman alienated from his daughter, and a neurotic wife who demands eggs for breakfast, and is found making love to her husband when Valerie returns. Exasperated, Valerie returns to the cafe, and the ever-indolent Remi. After his cowardly intimations of abandoning responsibility, she storms out, nearly getting run over except for Remi's quick reflexes. The shock seems to force her into action.

There isn't a single scene that does not feature Virginie Ledoyen, an actress whose talent was leodimmed in THE BEACH, but is highly regarded in France. This emphasis might please some of the actress's male admirers, but the problem with real-time is that the boring (or 'phatic' as intellectuals like to call them) bits cut out of most films are left in, all in the name of realism. And so we follow Valerie endlessly, walking down the street, walking up stairs, walking down corridors, riding in lifts, generally being surly. Ledoyen is not required to show much emotion - who does in every day life? - and so this interminable realism risks becoming monotonous.

LA FILLE SEULE is, therefore, a melodrama in the 1950s Hollywood sense, following as it does a heroine of limited options in her hermetic environment, where her personality and possibilities are restricted to her surroundings. The more Valerie walks down the same corridor, the more we feel she is caught in a labyrinth, and there are times when the decor seems to overwhelm her, as she is caught in long shot as just another feature of the frame.

However, in the great Hollywood melodramas of Sirk et al, the monotony and repetition finally turned in on the film, and the repressions rose to crisis point, bursting the scene in physical and emotional trauma. Jacquot refuses to exploit his material's potential for melodrama - any life-changing decision is elided, the film is determinedly open-ended - so while his film is 'objectively' authentic, it doesn't feel true - this girl is so alone, she is separate even from us.

Valerie's lonely plight is contrasted with that of the other characters, as Jacquot creates a patchwork of alienation, as well as offering his heroine pessimistic insights into relationships, gender (Valerie is determined her child will be a boy, such are the options open to women) and parenthood. Crucial here is the scene where Valerie signs her contract. She left her last job when a cook tried it on, and her female employer, Sabine's snide interrogations accuse her of using her striking looks to attract clients for 'tips'. Valerie is outraged, but a phonecall for Sabine from her vacillating lover shows how vulnerable she really is, and that the title has more general implications (see also Valerie's mother).

Many critics have compared the film to those of the New Wave, presumably because of the open-air filming and young heroine. The opening sequence with the pinball machine and cafe, the day-in-the-life narrative, and Valerie's short hair at the end all echo Godard's VIVRE SA VIE, but the film bares little real relation to that pioneering French movement. There is none of the breezy freshness of the original films, none of their engaging untidiness, romantic verve, personal poetry or wide-eyed wonder at the medium, never mind the rigorous critique of a Godard film like VIVRE SA VIE.

Passers-by might smile into the camera, but its movements are deliberate and elegant, making the film's 'realism' seem very contrived. This wouldn't be a problem if the film had used artifice to recreate the heroine's inner life - instead all we have is a big modern hotel, a bit of talk, unyielding characters, and lots, oh lots, of corridors.