David O'ConnellI've Loved You So Long
June 24th 2009 03:51
A meticulous, slow burn French drama about how our inevitable struggle with ghosts of the past continually shapes our present, first time writer and director Philippe Claudel's film unfurls its narrative with a steady and bleak acuity, allowing us access through the eyes of sisters Juliette (Kristin Scott-Thomas) and Lea (Elsa Zylberstein). There is a significant age between the pair who haven't seen one another for a decade, since the early years of Juliette’s incarceration for a crime that hangs heavily on her conscience and becomes a palpable force thwarting her chances of successful reintegration into the outside world.
Living in her sister’s home, with Lea’s husband Luc (Serge Hazanavicius) and their two adopted Vietnamese children, is difficult for Juliette; a pall of doom clings to her with sullen persistence, her reticence and hardened features stopping conversations in their tracks. Luc especially has grave reservations about the suitability of this arrangement, but his wife’s overwhelming desire to reconnect with her sister and see her overcome her past is a persuasive force he can’t ignore. Slowly however, she creeps closer to being accepted by all, including the children whose boisterous spirits win them points in her eyes.
Not that Juliette finds the going easy at all, with uncomfortable queries raised by friends of the couple, wondering about her origins and recent absence; swift diversions from Lea and Luc are the order of the day to offset these awkward moments though Juliette is mostly apathetic about possible disclosures, even nonchalantly exposing her true past in a dinner scene, to ironic effect.
Curiosity and then genuine interest are shown by two men: Lea’s teaching colleague Michel (Laurent Grevill), who rather than inflaming Juliette's guilty associations with the negated years of her life in prison, offers a connection of his own in a teaching stint spent re-engaging prisoners with the world of literature; the other constant is the police officer Juliette’s required to report to regularly, Captain Faure (Frederic Pierrot), a seemingly lonely man who shares with her his ultimate dreams of escaping his own life.
Though it’s measured pace and lack of startling developments will probably keep many offside, the depth of range revealed by the two leads is what sustains this film, ensuring interest in it never wanes. Claudel’s script is certainly a fascinating exercise in subtle persuasion, slowly adding pieces to his initial puzzle of what haunts Juliette; concurrently there’s the back-story with her sister and their tormented family who in the wake of Juliette's crime, ostracised her, the traumatised Lea forced to cling to the notion that she'd become an only child.
This is ultimately a story about two siblings whose connection can’t be severed despite the years and circumstances keeping them apart. Their love for one another - manifesting itself in the form of Lea’s diary entries with its daily declarations of her sister’s name, and Juliette’s sublimated desire to return the love of an idealised version of the innocent young Lea - survives the intervening years of physical separation, against all odds.
Scott-Thomas gives the performance of her career as the emotionally-scarred Juliette, her time-ravaged countenance revealing every internal scar in her mostly wordless, bleak address to a world she’s become painfully isolated from; gripped by a monumental internal grief she’s been effectively reduced to the grey and waning figure of a sleepwalker.
Zylberstein is equally memorable as the young sister forced to cope with the distracting and ominous presence of a long-lost sister who’s reluctant to spill the mysteries of their years apart. She’s curious and accommodating, allowing Juliette the space she needs without ever wanting to pry and enable healing before the time is right.
A slight but hypnotic character study, I’ve Loved You So Long is an impressive debut for Claudel, a film that edges into dark terrain before daring to rebound with the affirmation of its cathartic, then optimistic, final scenes.
Living in her sister’s home, with Lea’s husband Luc (Serge Hazanavicius) and their two adopted Vietnamese children, is difficult for Juliette; a pall of doom clings to her with sullen persistence, her reticence and hardened features stopping conversations in their tracks. Luc especially has grave reservations about the suitability of this arrangement, but his wife’s overwhelming desire to reconnect with her sister and see her overcome her past is a persuasive force he can’t ignore. Slowly however, she creeps closer to being accepted by all, including the children whose boisterous spirits win them points in her eyes.
Not that Juliette finds the going easy at all, with uncomfortable queries raised by friends of the couple, wondering about her origins and recent absence; swift diversions from Lea and Luc are the order of the day to offset these awkward moments though Juliette is mostly apathetic about possible disclosures, even nonchalantly exposing her true past in a dinner scene, to ironic effect.
Elsa Zylberstein and Kristin Scott-Thomas as sisters Lea and Juliette
Curiosity and then genuine interest are shown by two men: Lea’s teaching colleague Michel (Laurent Grevill), who rather than inflaming Juliette's guilty associations with the negated years of her life in prison, offers a connection of his own in a teaching stint spent re-engaging prisoners with the world of literature; the other constant is the police officer Juliette’s required to report to regularly, Captain Faure (Frederic Pierrot), a seemingly lonely man who shares with her his ultimate dreams of escaping his own life.
Though it’s measured pace and lack of startling developments will probably keep many offside, the depth of range revealed by the two leads is what sustains this film, ensuring interest in it never wanes. Claudel’s script is certainly a fascinating exercise in subtle persuasion, slowly adding pieces to his initial puzzle of what haunts Juliette; concurrently there’s the back-story with her sister and their tormented family who in the wake of Juliette's crime, ostracised her, the traumatised Lea forced to cling to the notion that she'd become an only child.
This is ultimately a story about two siblings whose connection can’t be severed despite the years and circumstances keeping them apart. Their love for one another - manifesting itself in the form of Lea’s diary entries with its daily declarations of her sister’s name, and Juliette’s sublimated desire to return the love of an idealised version of the innocent young Lea - survives the intervening years of physical separation, against all odds.
Scott-Thomas gives the performance of her career as the emotionally-scarred Juliette, her time-ravaged countenance revealing every internal scar in her mostly wordless, bleak address to a world she’s become painfully isolated from; gripped by a monumental internal grief she’s been effectively reduced to the grey and waning figure of a sleepwalker.
Zylberstein is equally memorable as the young sister forced to cope with the distracting and ominous presence of a long-lost sister who’s reluctant to spill the mysteries of their years apart. She’s curious and accommodating, allowing Juliette the space she needs without ever wanting to pry and enable healing before the time is right.
A slight but hypnotic character study, I’ve Loved You So Long is an impressive debut for Claudel, a film that edges into dark terrain before daring to rebound with the affirmation of its cathartic, then optimistic, final scenes.
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Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Comment by Anonymous
Scott-Thomas as an ex prison bitch living with a sister suffering from Madonna syndrome (I guess Asian kids do better at school, makes sense) coming to grips with being a looser.......I like it.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic