Médecin de campagne

Compelling story about a couple of countryside physicians, especially the male one played by the always convincing François Cluzet. A devoted doctor, a man deeply involved with people living in small villages, lost farms, far from the madding crowd. A man who is also aware to have cancer, and who tries anyway to fight like a dog to, against all odds, help the others. I liked the supporting characters who, I am sure, were not played by professional actors, but whose performances are however outstanding. A movie about true life, true people, those whose we too rarely talk about. The people from the deep France, far from the crowded suburbs.

Very compelling feature directed by an authentic doctor in real life.

To urban eyes, the rural doctor stereotype is a walking museum of what village medicine used to look like in bygone days. French filmmakers excel in portraying this endangered species and they have done so yet again in the delightful character-rich film The Country Doctor (2016) (Médecin de campagne). To enhance our sense of the fading rural life, the story is framed around a doctor whose own time is fading as the irreplaceable linchpin of his village community.

Made by medic-turned-director Thomas Lilti, the plot is best described as a series of insightful vignettes of rural medicine practised the old-fashioned way. The greatly admired Dr Jean-Pierre (François Cluzet) has been caring for the village most of his life and now learns that he has a life- threatening tumour. Ordered to slow down for treatment, medical authorities send an assistant doctor, Nathalie Delezia (Marianne Denicourt) who quickly proves unnervingly competent and willing to lighten his load. Predictably, Jean-Pierre does not take well to losing his role as sole-carer for the village and mischievously makes things difficult for her. He sends her into farms and homes with known annoyances to discourage her from staying, but when she proves her worth in medical emergencies he is forced to accept her help. As his prognosis worsens, the growing respect between them becomes noticeably warmer as they both confront an uncertain future.

In many respects, this story is a predictable cluster of clichés made attractive by a picturesque rural setting captured perfectly with camera-work sympathetic to its natural beauty. Like in many countries, a rural doctor's life is a public script of farmyard and roadside accidents, comforting home visits, and a surgery full of patiently waiting regulars with ailments both serious and small. The village community adores their doctor and the doctor in turn is a caring father to all. But this is a film where the simple plot and its constructions are less important than its characterisations. François Cluzet is France's version of Dustin Hoffman, an actor who radiates open warmth, compassion and understanding. His almost musical face can express emotion with a single note consisting of a slight raising of an eyelid, or a wry turn of a lip that hints of a smile, or a faintly furrowed brow that speaks concern. Marianne Denicourt is perfectly cast as the late blooming nurse turned doctor, whose big eyes converse at first hesitantly then warmly with the reluctant senior medic. While the plot may be clichéd, their relationship has none of the conventional hallmarks of romance. Indeed, it is only in the final minutes that we sense their comfort in one another's presence.

This is a fine example of classic French romantic drama. It is totally driven by characterisation that is earthy, understated and open-hearted with a rich rural aesthetic that evokes the mutual dependencies that are typical amongst country people. It speaks of the unstated and unseen organic wholeness of community that is rare in urban life. It is also a film where most viewers leave with an unmistakable smile.

Nothing innovative, but with a sensitivity, simplicity that enchant, a cute and delicious cake recipe to taste... More of the same, but with a touch of purity, an abrupt ending, almost imperceptible, beautiful and happy, delicate and adorable...

The complexity of feelings is hinted rather than spread out, the sequence of events is suggested rather than shown. The unsaid prevails, concealing the characters' emotional depth, which leaves a lot to the spectator's imagination. Unlike Anglo-Saxon movies it is not overacted, loud, vulgar and stuffed with sex. Also the casting is excellent, all the patients and inhabitants of the region are more real than in real life.

My only criticism would be about too much music. Silence, as in most Ingmar Bergman films, has my preference. This is the reason of my 9 out of 10 stars.

Jean-Pierre is a grumpy doctor who falls sick and his way to cope with bad news is to ignore them. He works in the countryside with younger female doctor Nathalie and their patients are very realistic country people.

The story is simple and treated with realism. Perhaps a bit slow moving, but moving in the right direction. Jean-Pierre goes out of his way to get an elderly patient out of the hospital, so that he can die at home, with his dog. Not the sort of scene easy to digest, but nevertheless part of a doctor's life.

When Jean-Pierre conditions are not improving, he doesn't want to pursue further treatment. My interpretation is that he has nothing to live for... until - as to be expected - something starts to grow between Jean-Pierre and Nathalie and with that, a will to live.

A quiet, somber movie without the usual French excesses. Well worth watching.