johnnyboyz The two characters primarily involved in Claude Chabrol's 1969 French thriller The Unfaithful Wife have, at least at the beginning, rather an idyllic and somewhat pleasant set up in their lives. When we first encounter them, we see both the husband and titular wife with their rather extended family in a large garden on a warm, sunny and welcoming day; the tone of the exchanges polite, the activity nothing out of the ordinary nor needlessly extravagant. The opening shots of such imagery are quite crudely broken up by a blurred effect which drowns the screen of its focus, the ideal family unit itself thus becoming difficult to firmly latch one's eyes onto; the credits begin, some rather harsh and somewhat official looking credits that scroll upwards in a military manner whilst some distorting piano music plays overhead. It's a fleeting few minutes or so of idealism in-between such a sequence, the film going on to form a superior mediation on human behaviour masquerading as a causality thriller as paradise is rendered corrupt and peeking beneath the surface of the upper-classes reveals deception and titular unfaithfulness.The film is unrelentingly fascinating, a piece never for more than a few seconds ever in the slightest bit uninteresting; a grim and somewhat bleak study how love, anger and victimisation brew together to create a cocktail of violence and anguish and how that in itself can come to forge a relationship which was never initially set in stone. The film's methodical lead is Michel Bouquet's Charles Desvallees, a lawyer with his own office located in a small enough building amidst the bustling Parisian streets away from the large, more ruralised country house in which he lives with his family. The family, of which, is made up of the titular wife, a certain Hélène (Audran) who's about the same age as her husband and is the mother to young son Michel (Di Napoli). The warm and welcoming day in the garden spent with Charles' mother and Hélène's in-law turns into evening, Charles' verbal illustrating of various plans he would like to have happen the following day involving both he and Hélène out and about doing things are shot down with casual reasons which excuse Hélène from attending. As they sit and observe a television broadcast later on during the evening, the signal begins to break up and the machine ceases to function as well as it might, thus further insinuating a breaking down of communication of an operative item and echoing their marriage.At work, and aside from Charles' rich circle of friends and busy schedule, he observes through young female secretary Brigitte (Turri) the very essence of temptation. His suspicion brought about by his wife's behaviour, and Chabrol's own channelling onto the audience of signs and notions towards an upsetting of a paradise-like set up or the malfunctioning of a working order, beginning to resonate. Desperate, as thoughts; feelings and drama all at once clinically escalate, Charles darts to the nearest payphone to call a place of business Hélène said she'd be; the piano music from earlier only suggesting at something seriously wrong with what idealism we were seeing beginning to pipe up again to form the overlying soundtrack to the news she is not where she said she'd be.The painful inevitable is confirmed when a private detective Charles hires reveals to him the truth; that Hélène is, in fact, having an affair and with a writer named Victor Pégala (Ronet) based not so far away. The film allows Charles a moment you sparsely see in today's age of thrillers; a moment of contemplation that has him stand beside a river flowing through the urbanised locale in which the reveal was announced so as to merely look across to the other side of it, digesting what it is has been exposed to him. It is around about here in the film that Chabrol applies a gear change so dramatic and so effective that it propels the piece beyond its combined brooding roots of paranoia and suspicion and into an echelon of unpredictability; horror and human emotion in its some of its rawest forms. In short, the switch in tone and content works remarkably; the film coming to have Charles journey to the man and see him.The film's causality infused thrills and scares following the venturing into the territory it goes near does nothing to distract the film from its overall tract; it is a film that is able to evoke just as much an on-edge reaction from its audience following a character's glance or nervous facial reaction as it can from a minor car accident. Chabrol's capturing of some of the interplay towards the conclusion as two people are forced into hiding varying secrets from both one another and the police is fascinating, and the film does not loose sight of son Michel's role as the picturesque representative of innocence caught up amidst all this and made to suffer out of others' ill-gotten decisions. Chabrol's overall ending is decidedly bleak, but his conclusion that the two we examine whom previously appeared to fall away from each other only to reconnect when some sort of duality was established, is dangerously uplifting given the sorts of events which aided in this and the actions the lovebirds undertook; all of it combining to form a superior thriller of an immensely sophisticated ilk.

gridoon2018 Yet another one of Claude Chabrol's slow, dark, deceptively calm psychological / crime thrillers, and as these things go, "La Femme Infidele" is probably one of his most successful efforts. There is one sequence in particular, the confrontation between Michel Bouquet and Maurice Ronet, that is absolutely riveting cinema - it will have you holding your breath. And there is also an amusing homage to Hitchcock (the car accident - jammed trunk scene). Bouquet is superb in this film - he maintains a friendly, calm exterior most of the time, but you can see that there's a whole range of emotions hidden behind it. Stéphane Audran looks great (those legs!), but her best scene comes near the very end: a long tracking shot that follows her and focuses on her face as it takes a "Mona Lisa"-type expression, with just a hint of a smile. I do have three objections about the film: 1) The title leaves little doubt as to how "fidele" "la femme" really is; the first 30 minutes might have played even better if we were less certain that Bouquet's suspicions weren't mere paranoia, 2) Audran's affair is not very developed, and her marriage does not look dysfunctional enough for her continued infidelity to be in some way justified; 3) The last shot is technically beautiful, but very inconclusive; personally I think the film should have ended one scene earlier. For an even more twisty-turny variation on a similar scenario, check out Chabrol's "Innocents With Dirty Hands". *** out of 4.P.S: Brigitte the secretary is hot as hell!!!

MisterWhiplash Claude Chabrol is a director who has a vast (and reputedly hit or miss) career as one of the Cashiers du cinema alumni, and his film La Femme Infidele could possibly be counted as one of the top crop of his work. There's a control over mis-en-scene, as might be expected (as he puts forth, unexpectedly and hilariously in a song that plays from a car stereo at one point, it's French), that is precise, observant, but also never overtly manipulative- it's almost so held-back emotionally that whenever a character seems to emote it's either through deception or by just the tip of the iceberg seeping through. This makes it all the more powerful, particularly because of how the ending doesn't really resolve anything except that these characters are doomed with each other. "I'm in love with you like mad," says the husband Charles (Michel Bouguet, perfect at that very understated, sincere and almost sinister approach to relating to people, even when seeming to be kidding), as there seems to be a sense of total disaster heading for both of them. But it's more of an existential sort- the law is left most ambiguous of all- and it's that which usually makes the best of dramas in lock-step with cuckolded and cuckolds and the like.If one's already seen Unfaithful, the Adrian Lyne 2002 Hollywood adaptation (not so much remake) of this film, then one already knows certain big pieces of the plot. The important thing though, in comparison with that film, which is still very good in its own right, is that this time we get only suggestions as to why Helene (Stephane Audran, maybe her best performance) is cheating on her bourgeois husband with writer Victor Pegala (Maurice Ronet), and this is something that irks at Charles most of all. Idyllic comfort broken to pieces and shoved underneath is the context here, and it's with this that we see as opposed to Lyne's film a look not so much at the super-sexual and eventually melodramatic side of infidelity and the aftermath (albeit just seeing Audran's legs is enough to get some men watching panting), but at complacency in the marriage and parenthood of their only child. Even if the child actor isn't very good at expression (he says "I Hate You" and "I Love You" in the same note), there's always the level of discomfort in seeing the unspoken tension in the scenes with the three of them.And, if for nothing else, La Femme Infidele is a masterpiece of technique. So many shots and angles had me glued to the screen, knowing that there could be no other way to get it right. Surely the script leads much of Chabrol along his paths (the actual moment of murder, however, is an ingenious editing trick), and what isn't there under the surface on screen is assuredly there on the page. But it's safe to put Chabrol on the level of artistry with his new-wave counterparts for shots like the one with Audran lying down on the bed, creeping up ever so slowly, and then cutting to a close-up, the one moment when we see just a slice of conscience. Or when Chabrol gets the emphasis of violence with a quick, simple shot of blood trickling down. Or how he balances out perspective at the house: look as the husband is watching out in the backyard at his wife, her out of focus yet still walking forward as the camera zooms a little more forward. And the last shot- following up on what has been many a decidedly Hitchcokian angle or note put forward, with a contemplative 'Vertigo' shot of mother and son in long-view out of focus. It's one of the saddest ending shots in the history of French movies.It might sound like I'm hyping up this film up a little, but considering how underrated Chabol can be- in comparison to Truffaut and Godard and even Rohmer to an extent (who, by the way, he co-wrote a book about Hitchcock with)- La Femme Infidele deserves to be seen and re-evaluated not just in the context of "ah, it's French, and it's romance and tragedy." To say that it's better than Unfaithful is an understatement, and it's only fault is that, if anything, it could be a little longer.

bucky_bleichert_lives I found the remake with Richard Gere and Diane Lane ("Unfaithful") intriguing in the way it explored the erotic pull the woman feels to her lover. It was very good at that. Most of the early scenes, especially any with Diane Lane, were very well done. Where Gere dominated a scene, on the other hand -- whether because of his acting, or flawed script or direction, I couldn't tell -- the movie felt phony and forced. Now I know why. "Unfaithful" tries to exploit Chabrol's powerful storyline, but wants to go in its own direction, too. For instance, the woman in the story is not nearly as central in Chabrol's movie. The story there is really about her husband, and his predicament at discovering that his perfect wife is having an affair. The wounded husband is much more believable here, and thus the murder scene does not feel as lurid as when Gere bludgeons Martinez in the remake. The method of striking blows to the head is the same, yet we understand the meaning of the blows perfectly in Chabrol's original, and the scene immediately previous, when the rivals meet and discuss the affair in the lover's apartment, feels very real and organic in Chabrol (though it is still surprising to find that the husband has come to confront the lover). By contrast, in the remake, Olivier Martinez plays that scene as part civilized troglodyte and part insouciant brat; Gere comes off as bordering on schizophrenia, or about to suffer a conniption -- a cuckold who's so de-eroticized that his sudden rage reads more as psychopathy. In a movie that purports to be about a crime of passion, the quality of passion feels more like a horror that has gone "off kilter" somehow. The scene is jarring, but not in ways that move the film along.Having seen both movies now, I do feel like I at least understand how the story might have seemed a good candidate for a remake. La femme Infidele is so good...It's so good I hardly thought I was watching a movie at all, but living in this story right along with the characters, albeit as troubled observer. It's a movie about the private conclusions that we come to, perhaps selfishly, that we don't share even with the people closest to us, perhaps because we are ashamed of our darkest feelings, those too taboo to admit.There is a sense that the story's protagonists do feel shame somehow (even in the embarrassingly relieved way the lover welcomes the visit from the husband) but are all too human in the end. There is a sense of desire that emanates from all the characters, who all happen to be pretending at playing one game or another while keeping secrets from one another. Even the perfect little boy is shown to be caught up in his own storms, to the extent that his role in the movie is as more than a signifier of a healthy, prosperous family's bourgeois pride. At one point he explodes at his parents, during a tense evening, yelling at them that he hates them both.This reading of the self in the throes of a very deep, selfish passion -- while at the same time trying to maintain appearances -- is masterful in Chabrol's movie, and I came away from it believing in the reality of these characters completely.I can't seem to put it into words too well, but I was very impressed with the understated way this movie examines the tensions that simmer under the surface of family relationships. This is the first movie I have seen by Chabrol and I have to say-- as someone who's seen my fair share of movies touted as "masterpieces" that turn out to be middling -- my faith in the power of film as a storytelling medium is renewed by this piece.