“Speak to me in the language of Moliere.”

Moliere, from director Laurent Tirard is a tasty romp through 17th century France. The film’s main premise is to present the backdrop story to Moliere’s success. There are some gaps in Moliere’s history, and during a thirteen-year period, he toured in the provinces with his troupe of actors. Here, he honed his satirical skills, and gained immense popularity before establishing himself at La Salle du Petit-Bourbon in Paris. The film Moliere attempts to explain some of the murkier details about Moliere’s past by presenting a slice of his life that mirrors the elegant style and wit of his wonderful plays.

Moliere (Romain Duris) is a talented but penniless actor who finds himself thrown in jail when he cannot pay his debts. But a rich gentleman, Monsieur Jourdain (Fabrice Luchini) pays for Moliere’s release. Jourdain, however, wants something in return, and he arranges for Moliere to arrive at his splendid country mansion. Jourdain, prosperous, and eager to improve himself, is in the habit of employing experts to teach him various skills. And he employs Moliere to teach him acting skills. It seems that Jourdain, although married to the deliciously lovely, Elmire (Laura Morante) is enamored with a shallow young widow, Celimene (Ludivine Sagnier). Jourdain intends to present himself at one of Celimene’s celebrated salons and impress her with a rendition of something written in her honor.

Now since Jourdain can’t tell his wife that Moliere is there to help him seduce another woman, Jourdain dresses Moliere up like a priest and tells Elmire that Moliere (now named Tartuffe) is in their home as a spiritual advisor. And here on Jourdain’s country estate, as events unfold, ‘real’ life assumes aspects of a Moliere play complete with a cuckolded husband, star-crossed lovers, and a fake kidnapping. Fans of Moliere will recognize names and plot elements of his plays, and of course, the implied idea is that Moliere’s greatest inspiration came from this episode in his early life.

Moliere, while not quite as good as the plays, is highly entertaining. The film also explores the idea of Moliere’s frustrated desire to write great tragedies, and it’s through his relationship with Elmire, that he finally realises the importance of comedy. With flawless timing, and impeccable acting, this is a witty, clever, and good-natured costume drama.

“I tire rather quickly of people.”

In the French film La Discrete, Antoine (Fabrice Luchini) is a would-be novelist. Antoine is at loose ends after a sudden break-up with his long-time girlfriend, Solange, and he mentions to his friend, Jean, that he wants revenge. Jean, a bookseller, and a publisher of erotica suggests that Antoine select, seduce, and dump a random woman. Jean encourages Antoine to keep a diary of the affair–with the intention of seeking publication of all the salacious details.

Antoine, who is a bit of a misogynist, considers this an excellent idea. With Jean’s coaching, he creates an advertisement for a typist. The applicant will become the victim of Antoine’s plan, and she will also be the protagonist of the diary-form novel.

Antoine speculates about the woman who will respond to his ad. He is severely disappointed when shy, skinny, quiet Catherine applies. Of course, on one hand, she seems the perfect victim. But on the other hand, Antoine finds Catherine rather too plain. He tends to fall for flashier women. Antoine, however, goaded by Jean, proceeds with the plan….

Naturally, many moral questions arise as the film develops. Antoine has an agenda, and he already has a chip on his shoulder. Thanks to the deliciously clever script, Antoine–who could easily be perceived as an unlikable rogue–seems way out of his depth. Catherine is so quiet, controlled, and self-contained, Antoine begins to wonder if she possesses hidden depths of licentiousness. Fabrice Luchini plays the role of Antoine–he’s an incredibly talented actor–usually playing supporting roles which capitalize on his intellectualism. In La Discrete Antoine fancies himself as a ladies’ man, he considers himself far more sophisticated than Catherine–whom he labels “provincial.” Catherine–both the object and the prize–is nonetheless a sentient being with very strong ideas. Antoine objectifies Catherine as he pursues his less-than-admirable goal, but he also objectifies Manu–Jean’s unattractive lumbering assistant. Antoine’s self-centeredness seems to disallow consideration of others, but his relationship with Catherine causes him to gain the introspection he never knew he lacked. La Discrete is a prime example of all that’s best in French film–fine acting combined with an extraordinarily clever and provocative script that provides much food for thought. Antoine says, “there are certain encounters, dates, moments that mark you forever.” Directed by Christian Vincent.

“What to declare and what to hide.”

William (Fabrice Luchini), a Parisian tax lawyer, is at the end of his working day, when an attractive young woman named Anna arrives claiming that she has an appointment. Expecting the usual presentation of tax problems, William is both shocked and intrigued when Anna (Sandrine Bonnaire) begins to weepily unburden herself with a litany of marital woes. At first, William is too stunned to respond, but then it dawns on him that Anna think he’s the psychiatrist, Dr. Monnier (Michel Duchaussoy), two doors down. At this point, William should do the ethical thing and reveal that Anna is in the wrong office. But he doesn’t … instead he makes an appointment with Anna for the following week.

Flirting with guilt, William approaches an old girlfriend, Jeanne (Anne Brochet) and explains his dilemma. She’s horrified by William’s lack of forthrightness, and she senses that William is attracted to Anna, and that’s why he’s reluctant to come clean.

While William struggles with his dilemma, Anna discovers the truth, but then she begins to show up for ‘chats’ anyway. The film explores the relationship between William and Anna–they now have no doctor-patient professional bond, and they’re not exactly friends. William’s disapproving secretary, Madame Mulon (Helene Surgere) is dying to get to the bottom of the relationship. With a strong Freudian approach, the film focuses on both William and Anna’s contrasting backgrounds, and the appeal they hold for each other becomes increasingly clear. The film’s delicate and ironic humour casts William–a man who’s never, ever stepped out of line in his life–suddenly in a delectably untenable position. Is his own life so anemic that he’s now become an armchair emotional vampire addicted to Anna’s salacious confidences? And what about Anna’s role? Does she just need a friendly (free) shoulder to cry on, or is something darker afoot? …

Luchini is one of my favourite French actors, and his ability to act with just his facial expressions fits the role of William very well. This is a role in which William is supposed to listen, and Luchini’s control over his facial expressions is–as always–quite extraordinary. As a fan of director Patrice Leconte’s work, I consider Hairdresser’s Husband, Monsieur Hire, The Widow of St Pierre, Girl of the Bridge some of the best films I’ve ever seen. One of Leconte’s favourite themes is the emotional distance between people whose ability to truly communicate and bridge these distances is usually adversely affected by the emotional scars of life. Can the emotional distance between people be bridged, and if it cannot, does it matter? Can an unconventional relationship with inherent emotional distances between the participants still exist? Intimate Strangers explores these questions through the main characters. This film is NOT a romance, and to see it as such is to underestimate its message. Discard the idea of a romance, and consider the final scene. In French with English subtitles.