«Les Estivants» from the cinema

Cinema Wednesdays - Jonas Follonier

Les Estivants, starring Pierre Arditi, is a comedy-drama that is French in origin only. The film lacks the elements needed to make it a classic, though viewers may still enjoy it. Verdict.

The film’s opening line makes it clear right away: «Divorce is the worst wound life can inflict on us.» The tragedy of divorce is a key theme in this French drama, whose poster is sure to draw viewers thanks to the presence of Pierre Arditi. The story takes place on the French Riviera, where Anna and her daughter join their extended family for a vacation. Except that Anna’s husband isn’t coming. He’s leaving her, without really telling her yet. He needs time to think. Anna, already fragile, finds herself going crazy among other crazy people, with family secrets resurfacing—in a somewhat original way.

Unforgivable flaws...

The voices of these crazy people are annoying. It’s not even the characters who get on our nerves—after all, they’d have every right to: the fault lies with the actors and, above all, the direction. Apart from Pierre Arditi—who you can tell is bored on set—his colleagues all have grating voices that make their performances seem highly theatrical and unrealistic. What’s more, the events unfold without much logic and in total chaos.

But perhaps that was simply a given for this kind of film. We’re dealing with a director, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, who also plays the role of Anna and who seems to have made a film about herself—only to further demonstrate that she’s making a film about herself. The levels of mise en abîme presented throughout this drawn-out feature film lack subtlety, and above all, one wonders what purpose they serve. With its dreary whiff of hollow New Wave, Les Estivants It struggles to captivate, despite the important themes of love, rape, and self-discovery that run throughout the story.

... but pleasant elements

However, we can take pleasure in the audience’s unease. In a sense, that’s the intended effect. One of the protagonists—a writer friend who joins the family at their large estate—seems to represent the audience when she says, fearfully, «I don’t feel comfortable here. I’m leaving.» This masterstroke—putting into words our desire to leave the theater—is a success. And it’s not ironic. The filmmaker’s interplay with the audience reveals her self-deprecating sense of humor, and this kind of self-deprecating humor is always welcome.

It’s also worth mentioning the very interesting instrumental score, which lends the film a sense of humanity, since the characters lack it—each one as mean or stupid as the next. Also, a few scenes are funny, like when Anna asks her soon-to-be ex-husband what the new woman he’s met is called: «She doesn’t have a name.» Finally, this long, three-act fable can be understood as an invitation to embrace the ephemeral, shrouded in a slightly Epicurean haze: «You’re here, drinking, just like every night. And you’re right.» Cheers.

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Photo credit: © Agora Films