More than a few French film-makers seem to like to take two strong characterswith different strengthsand throw them together and wait for the reactions. Jacquot's version of this procedure involves an older woman, Dominique (Isabel Huppert) involved with a younger man, the hustler Quentin (Vincent Martinez).
While this pairing suggests cliché, somehow it grows well beyond the usual fare To begin with, Dominique is a complicated character, strong, in control of her life, inclined to be merry though not entirely content with things and hating boredom. It's not entirely clear what she does professionallyperhaps a designer or owner/executive of a fashion companybut she enjoys it and is good at it. She takes her droopy friend (Danièle Dubroux) around with her, and at a nightclub she sees Quentin staring at her. The gay waiter Chris (Vincent Lindon) helps her get acquainted, and an affair begins. Quentin is fickle and stubborn and wayward, turns tricks for money, knows he's good at it, prefers women but doesn't mind men.
He isn't as strong as he looks. Though Quentin makes gestures about preserving his independence, going out, seeing others, and doling out attention according to his convenience, in fact Dominique makes the rules. When he does things that would hurt or threaten a more conventional woman, she remains unfazed. What she wants is Quentin as he is, vibrant and smoldering and vulnerable. It's interesting to watch the way his attempts to assert a bad-boy independence always wind up with him walking away from the supposedly edgy scenethe nightclub where they met, the street where the rent-boys hustlewith Dominique, or heading back to her apartment. And it's surely symbolic that he practices karate enthusiastically in the dojo, but he's not so tough outside, falling down twice in brief fights.
But when inevitably there's a crisis it's not a predictable case of him acting out the bad boy part. No, he plans to marry the pretty young daughter of Dominique's friends. Dominique has the chance to blackmail Quentin with explicit pictures of him having sex with a male client, provided by Chris (who says she wanted to be able to have power over him but not to use it. Dominique is stronger. But she burns them. And in doing so, she realizes they're finished. Quentin wants to stay with Dominique, but by this time she's exhausted. She sends him away; he sits shirtless on the floor, mourning, refusing to leave. Then a brief coda: Dominique a few years later, elegant, with longer hair, runs into Quentin outside a metro stop. He's carrying a young child, his daughter from his by now failed marriage. He gives Dominique his address, but she doesn't take it. She watches him go.
Martinez is pretty good, sneaking in boyishness under the carapace of macho sexuality, and he has a great smile. Lindon is also excellent as Chris, an elective girl with a great knowing look. There are also a couple of brief appearances by an old boyfriend of Quentin's, Soukaz (François Berléant), who is rueful and nervously dignified. The real delight is Huppert, who is simply breathtaking in this part. In other movies she has been called upon for over-the-top effects, but here she uses a subdued, subtle technique, registering emotions with small but affective expressions: boredom, curiosity, desire, joy, discomfort, hope, desperation, humour, calm, sadness, self-control. A great movie, one that turns stereotypes inside out.
While this pairing suggests cliché, somehow it grows well beyond the usual fare To begin with, Dominique is a complicated character, strong, in control of her life, inclined to be merry though not entirely content with things and hating boredom. It's not entirely clear what she does professionallyperhaps a designer or owner/executive of a fashion companybut she enjoys it and is good at it. She takes her droopy friend (Danièle Dubroux) around with her, and at a nightclub she sees Quentin staring at her. The gay waiter Chris (Vincent Lindon) helps her get acquainted, and an affair begins. Quentin is fickle and stubborn and wayward, turns tricks for money, knows he's good at it, prefers women but doesn't mind men.
He isn't as strong as he looks. Though Quentin makes gestures about preserving his independence, going out, seeing others, and doling out attention according to his convenience, in fact Dominique makes the rules. When he does things that would hurt or threaten a more conventional woman, she remains unfazed. What she wants is Quentin as he is, vibrant and smoldering and vulnerable. It's interesting to watch the way his attempts to assert a bad-boy independence always wind up with him walking away from the supposedly edgy scenethe nightclub where they met, the street where the rent-boys hustlewith Dominique, or heading back to her apartment. And it's surely symbolic that he practices karate enthusiastically in the dojo, but he's not so tough outside, falling down twice in brief fights.
But when inevitably there's a crisis it's not a predictable case of him acting out the bad boy part. No, he plans to marry the pretty young daughter of Dominique's friends. Dominique has the chance to blackmail Quentin with explicit pictures of him having sex with a male client, provided by Chris (who says she wanted to be able to have power over him but not to use it. Dominique is stronger. But she burns them. And in doing so, she realizes they're finished. Quentin wants to stay with Dominique, but by this time she's exhausted. She sends him away; he sits shirtless on the floor, mourning, refusing to leave. Then a brief coda: Dominique a few years later, elegant, with longer hair, runs into Quentin outside a metro stop. He's carrying a young child, his daughter from his by now failed marriage. He gives Dominique his address, but she doesn't take it. She watches him go.
Martinez is pretty good, sneaking in boyishness under the carapace of macho sexuality, and he has a great smile. Lindon is also excellent as Chris, an elective girl with a great knowing look. There are also a couple of brief appearances by an old boyfriend of Quentin's, Soukaz (François Berléant), who is rueful and nervously dignified. The real delight is Huppert, who is simply breathtaking in this part. In other movies she has been called upon for over-the-top effects, but here she uses a subdued, subtle technique, registering emotions with small but affective expressions: boredom, curiosity, desire, joy, discomfort, hope, desperation, humour, calm, sadness, self-control. A great movie, one that turns stereotypes inside out.