In a career that has been intermittently prolific, French filmmaker Philippe Garrel seems to have moved into his so-called “late period”, after 2005’s Regular Lovers, and an ensuing six-year absence from the silver screen. His last three films, released over the past four years, have moved into a territory of lower stakes, subtler dramas and quieter stories than those that populated his work since the 1970s. 2013’s Jealousy is one of his very best.
His latest, In the Shadow of Women, features his characteristic black and white cinematography, and a typical narrative of love, trust, and infidelity. Missing from the frame is his perennial leading man, his own son Louis Garrel, who here performs as the film’s narrator, wryly and dryly describing the film’s foolish, endearing characters in sparing doses.
The story centers on Pierre, a documentary filmmaker, and his wife Manon, who works with him on his projects. The couple appears to be happily in love, at least at first glance, but things change when Pierre meets Elisabeth, a young woman working as an intern at a film archive. One tryst leads to another and soon Pierre is paying her frequent visits in her apartment.
As always, Garrel’s investment in his characters is empathetic and sensitive, but he treats Pierre with the slightest distance here, often skewering him for his petty male egoism, as he justifies cheating on his wife with the reasoning that “he’s a man.” This new romance brings him little happiness, undoing the tranquility and stability of his marriage. It isn’t long before he’s pettily taking it out on both women, frustrated with his own weakness. The revelation that Manon herself is cheating on Pierre seems to him unfathomable.
If the subject matter sounds like the stuff of clichés, it’s no matter under Garrel’s gentle direction. Soft frames, always pivoted on people’s faces, and quiet shots of the environment as silent witness – windows and walls that say nothing and everything all at once. There’s no need to make the story more elaborate or more original, as this is not Garrel’s intention. Rather, it is to look at something so obvious with intense care. Few directors exhibit such conviction and care for their characters, even as those characters move about clumsily, unable to transcend their insecurities.
Even fewer directors believe in love as Garrel does, both in its power to make life meaningful, and its power to make life unlivable. The plight of the characters here may seem trivial, and indeed they would be were they directed by someone else. But the Garrel touch imbues the film and its poor players with humanity. Shots of characters in front of walls, apartments, and windows are so full of life, until they walk out frame, and the image lingers on the bare environment, indifferent, and so suddenly out of touch with the love—be it broken or full—that charges every movie Garrel has made.
Three stars out of four.
