October 2, 2011
Directed by Stephane Brize and starring Vincent Lindon, as Jean, and Sandrine Kiberlain as Veronique Chambon, Mademoiselle Chambon, (based on a novel by the same name,) tells the moving tale of an impossible love between a married man and his son’s schoolteacher.
The subject matter of the film could leave people expecting the typical sordid love affair angst-fest, but with Mademoiselle Chambon, things are handled a little differently. True, there is never really any doubt over how the film will end, but the intense yet delicate character studies make Mademoiselle Chambon stand apart from the hordes of other anguished forbidden love stories.
The gentle nature of Jean’s character is made clear when we see his constant care for his father and easy affection towards his young son, a fact that makes it difficult to feel much dislike for him over his actions. Unlike other films in this vein, no character is painted in a poor light; Jean is not trying to escape the clutches of a loveless partnership with his wife and Veronique is in no way a seductress of married men. The treatment and development of each character offers a sense of realism that is all-too-often lacking in many such films.
For the most part, Mademoiselle Chambon seems like a quiet film. Quiet in its judgement of human behaviour, quiet in the characters’ soft-spoken exchanges and soundlessly shed tears, and quiet in its soundtrack, which is made up of the music of Edward Elgar and silence. The film ceases to be so quiet, however, when Brize introduces some rather heavy-handed cinematic metaphors. In the first few scenes we see Jean, at work as a builder, knocking down the walls of a family home – an image that returns frequently as he suffers (quietly) through his untimely attraction towards Veronique. Meanwhile, Jean’s wife is seen at her place of work, a factory where she spends her days pulling pamphlets on and off conveyor belts; is Brize providing a nod to the monotony of marriage perhaps?
The not-so-subtle metaphors aside, Mademoiselle Chambon offers a refreshing look at an age-old conundrum, which, although slow moving at times, is beautifully shot, highly engaging and well worth watching.
The subject matter of the film could leave people expecting the typical sordid love affair angst-fest, but with Mademoiselle Chambon, things are handled a little differently. True, there is never really any doubt over how the film will end, but the intense yet delicate character studies make Mademoiselle Chambon stand apart from the hordes of other anguished forbidden love stories.
The gentle nature of Jean’s character is made clear when we see his constant care for his father and easy affection towards his young son, a fact that makes it difficult to feel much dislike for him over his actions. Unlike other films in this vein, no character is painted in a poor light; Jean is not trying to escape the clutches of a loveless partnership with his wife and Veronique is in no way a seductress of married men. The treatment and development of each character offers a sense of realism that is all-too-often lacking in many such films.
For the most part, Mademoiselle Chambon seems like a quiet film. Quiet in its judgement of human behaviour, quiet in the characters’ soft-spoken exchanges and soundlessly shed tears, and quiet in its soundtrack, which is made up of the music of Edward Elgar and silence. The film ceases to be so quiet, however, when Brize introduces some rather heavy-handed cinematic metaphors. In the first few scenes we see Jean, at work as a builder, knocking down the walls of a family home – an image that returns frequently as he suffers (quietly) through his untimely attraction towards Veronique. Meanwhile, Jean’s wife is seen at her place of work, a factory where she spends her days pulling pamphlets on and off conveyor belts; is Brize providing a nod to the monotony of marriage perhaps?
The not-so-subtle metaphors aside, Mademoiselle Chambon offers a refreshing look at an age-old conundrum, which, although slow moving at times, is beautifully shot, highly engaging and well worth watching.