Loulou

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.

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.

Pialat films people in extreme emotional situations, usually with several violent scenes. In La Gueule ouverte, he's dealing with the devastating effects on a woman's husband and son as she dies of cancer. In A nos amours, the teenage girl's sexual experimentation leads to violent confrontations with her family. Here we have a rather spoiled young woman who abandons her husband to take up with a sexy ex-con. Her motivation is a little cloudy, since Loulou is incapable of reading or discussing anything more challenging than TV shows; on the other hand, he's got a fabulous body (I wonder why Depardieu never made a sports movie to show off that physique--he would have been great as a rugby player).

The casting is impressive. Isabelle Huppert gives a committed performance as Nelly; her middle class reserve plays well against Depardieu's loutish energy. Depardieu plays Loulou with all the dynamism and charm you could want--see the scene in the bar, where he's stabbed in the gut, runs away and seeks treatment, then soon restarts with Nelly. Guy Marchand, with those coal-black eyes and distressed look, plays Nelly's husband beautifully; it's a fine repeat of their pairing in Diane Kurys's Coup de foudre.

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 quite a dull movie. Well-shot with realistic performances especially a very good one from Depardieu as a cad and bad boy with realistic locations mood and art-house connotations all over, it fails because the director takes no position, stand or critical commentary on the topic he stipulates. One of France's revered and regular working partner on films with Depardieu - I believe they made 7 together - Pialat fails to engage. It seems to be a treatise on why women fall for the bad boy who will hurt when they have a ready caring boyfriend and good-hearted husband around. Isabelle Hupert who plays the philanderer with nonchalant distinction offers opprobrium answers like "I don't know"; "I like his arms"; "I like the way he makes love" to her inquiring husband who tries to kick her out of the house but palliates and reconsiders because... I assume he loves her. So he accepts and hope for what? That she will one day wake up and come to her senses. Things like this are not answered in Pialat's condescending docu-drama style with long speeches and even longer scenes that don't add up. I know the answers do not add up but please take a stand. Jules et Jim, this is not. The final shot as cold as the movie we have just watched is a heartache and headache only to the most forgiving.