Directed by Stephane Brize. Starring Vincent Lindon, Sandrine Kiberlain, Aure Atika, Jeam-Marc Thibault, Arthur Le Houerou Club, IFI, Dublin 101 min
A PLEASING miniature that makes you think someone's been in contact with Eric Rohmer on the other side, Mademoiselle Chambonstrives for the same timeless rhythm as Brief Encounter, Before Sunriseand Lost in Translation.
Vincent Lindon stars as Jean, an unpretentious, thoroughly blue-collar mason who lives quietly with his pretty wife, Anne-Marie (Aure Atika) and playful young son. We’re not quite sure why Jean is attracted to junior’s enigmatic teacher, or why she favours him. That’s probably as it should be; they seem equally as perplexed by the attraction.
A nomad, Ms Chambon (Sandrine Kiberlain) never stays in the same school district for too long. She’s an ideal candidate for an uncomplicated romance, yet neither party wishes to give in to temptation. He fixes her window. They stare at one another. She plays him something on a strangely neglected violin. They stare at one another. And so on.
A chamber piece played out in sly glances and long silences, Mademoiselle Chambon demands the grammar of the silent screen from its two leads. Lindon and Kiberlain prove more than capable of communicating their innermost with a hazy, weak smile or quizzical eyebrow, yet even the actors’ collective range can’t expand the premise into a classic worthy of Rachmaninov or teashops.
Though shapely and bittersweet, Stephane Brize’s film is simply too wee to warrant a place alongside the unrequited classics. But it’s not far off. And we do get a charming melody from Hungarian composer Ferenc von Vecsey.
