The star's write up in the current New Yorker Magazine led me to this film. With all the predictable, derivative fare these days, it is a welcome relief. I lament all the panning user reviews, entirely missing the point.
Charlotte the brilliant research physician reminds one of the Good Doctor and Astrid Neilsen in her extraordinary professional abilities. But unlike them, she passes for neurotypical. Her relationship with her pre-school-age son is normal as apple pie.
The linguistic fragmentation of her daily life portends what will happen. She is German. She is married to an American. English is spoken at home and at work. Official stuff in Brussels is in French. The language of the streets is Flemish.
She has a crack-up, taking the form of sexual acting out with unattractive, Flemish-speaking men. The lurid sex scenes make the sheer perverseness vivid. She has encountered ugly bodies alive and dead in her time, after all. The sex is much like the drinking in
Vício Maldito (1962). Only if those scenes are misunderstood out of context can one think this is mere soft-core porn.
Against all odds, her husband stands by her as the repercussions blow back. Perhaps he would not have done so, had she not been such a good lay. The moral of the story? When someone in your life experiences a crack-up, the right thing to do is be there for him/her.
While recovering, she gives birth to twins. The symbolism cannot get heavier-handed than that!
I think this film stands on the shoulders of
Repulsa ao Sexo (1965) and
A Bela da Tarde (1967).
