Her struggle to commit the kids’ names to memory before a rapprochement organized - in fact scripted - by Lumir is quite amusing, as is Fabienne’s complete inability to apologize to a man for anything. Deneuve again brings tart humor to the evidence that Fabienne has never stopped to consider the life of this man with six grandchildren beyond his service to her. Fabienne’s loyal, long-serving personal assistant Luc (Alain Libolt) is so hurt by having merited not a single line in the book that he abruptly quits just as production on the film-within-the-film is starting. Lumir isn’t the only one whose feathers are ruffled by the memoir. That specter from the past surfaces also through Manon (Manon Clavil), the star of a sci-fi drama Fabienne is shooting who has been widely compared to Sarah. “It’s far from interesting.” In a thread that lacks clarity in Kore-eda’s script, the memoir revives the ghost of Sarah, an actress friend of the family who became almost a mother figure to Lumir and whose considerable talent made her a threat to Fabienne. “I’m an actress, I won’t tell the unvarnished truth,” shoots back Fabienne in a typically cool response.
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Not having been sent an advance copy of her mother’s book, Lumir is incensed by the artistic license taken in its effusive depiction of maternal love. Fabienne doesn’t disabuse Charlotte of the idea, especially once the girl’s eccentric grandfather, also named Pierre (Roger Van Hool, who played Deneuve’s lover in 1968’s La Chamade), shows up uninvited at his ex-wife’s house. Lumir mischievously hints to Charlotte that the girl’s grandmother is the witch from a favorite childhood story who turns ill-favored people into animals. Lumir is quick to point out that the house sits in front of a prison.Īn ancient turtle named Pierre roams the grounds.
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Her daughter Lumir (Binoche) has come from New York for a rare family visit to Paris with Hank and their bilingual preteen child Charlotte (Clementine Grenier), who is immediately enchanted by the chateau-like aspect of Fabienne’s roomy old house, nestled in lush gardens full of trees whose leaves are turning golden in the fall. “ Actor is saying a lot,” quips Fabienne dryly when he’s thus described.
The clumsy Bardot mention comes from Fabienne’s affable American son-in-law Hank ( Ethan Hawke), an actor whose work in television elicits its own eye-rolls.
It’s deliciously impossible here and elsewhere to separate Deneuve from the role she’s playing this jibes with a film in which the lines between performance and reality - or truth, as the title more baldly states - are constantly questioned. Even the lukewarm tea displeases her.ĭeneuve is priceless here and in similar moments, like Fabienne considering how many great French actresses have alliterated initials - Michele Morgan, Simone Signoret, Anouk Aimee - before turning up her nose with a dismissive shrug when someone tries granting Brigitte Bardot entry to the club. She haughtily dismisses questions she has answered in past profiles, scoffs at the supposed talents of an acting contemporary she mistakenly assumes is dead and acknowledges the influence of no actress who came before her, nor the inheritance of her DNA by anyone since.
But it has the playful lightness of touch, the wit and warmth that are an essential part of the Kore-eda signature it’s also an affectionate ode to French cinema itself, which could steer the reach of the IFC release away from this leading filmmaker’s many existing admirers to a different audience.Īn opening scene that’s both hilarious and incisive in terms of character introduces Fabienne as she endures being interviewed by an adoring but nervous journalist (Laurent Capelluto). It doesn’t come close to the piercing intimacy, poetry, depth or illuminating social context of the homegrown work of a director often deservingly regarded as the contemporary heir to Ozu and Naruse - qualities very much evident in exquisite films like Nobody Knows, Shoplifters and Like Father, Like Son.
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