The Man of My Life: Gorgeous love story, flaws and all

Reviewer: James van Maanen
Rating (out of 5): ***½

Seeing The Man of My Life a second time within the year (it was originally part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center's Rendez-vous with French Cinema 2007) has made me appreciate even more its richness, intelligence and subtlety, while also alerting me to some flaws in its structure. First time out, I was so blown away by the film's beauty of conception and place (it is brilliantly edited and set during a vacation in the Provence countryside), not to mention its relevance to my own life (a marriage sundered by one mate's sudden attraction to a new acquaintance), that I was more than willingly drawn along by the situation and the spectacularly persuasive performances of Charles Berling, Bernard Campan and Léa Drucker.

The subplot involving the Berling character's estranged father now appears more obvious than necessary and, as the film draws to a conclusion more melancholy and less definite than I originally remembered, events seem to be a bit random. In an interview with director/co-writer Zabou Breitman on the Special Features (she's also a well-known actress who has appeared in some 65 roles over 25 years!), Breitman notes that when she first viewed the finished film, she realized sadly that what read so well on the page did not translate into good cinema. A massive re-editing was undertaken, resulting in what the director she calls an enormous learning experience. (The Man of My Life is only her second full-length feature.)

For the viewer, however, this movie, in its finished form, offers many pleasures. Foremost among these is the rich and real sense of family, friends and community that Breitman captures: We live and breathe the meals, the conversation, the countryside and the town. As the key relationship develops, we also come to experience the thrill and passion of falling in love. (This occurs during an all-night conversation between the characters played by Berling and Campan, which Breitman and her editor Richard Marizy have wisely interspersed throughout the entire film--undoubtedly part of that re-editing "learning experience.")

Pleasurable, too, are the gorgeous and odd visuals this talented director chooses to symbolize the growing passion. These range from the playful artwork--here, yet not here--created by Berling that amazes Campan (and us), to the space in the open foyer of the country house that seems to attract an impossible confluence of breezes. Then, there's the walk home after jogging, during which an attraction heretofore only verbal/philosophical, suddenly becomes a tactile thing, with a field of blooming sunflowers expressing what the Campan character feels. For any faults at hand, these moments are pure art, as is the scene at the village dance in which Berling's "take" on a tango elucidates perfectly that French insistence on integrating philosophy with life. Best of all, perhaps, may be the sympathy Breitman spreads among her characters. This is Campan's love story, but the pain and sorrow experienced by his wife--a glowing performance by Drucker--we must also acknowledge and share. While I don't expect all viewers will experience the visceral jolts of recognition the movie brought me, I still recommend giving it a try--for sheer visual beauty alone.