Can you have a great love triangle when one of the three isn’t in love?
Film Features Cinema of France
Watch This offers movie recommendations inspired by new releases, premieres, current events, or occasionally just our own inscrutable whims. Because it’s Love Week at The A.V. Club, we’re recommending movies about love triangles.
Un Cœur En Hiver (1992)
It’s difficult to maintain a love triangle when one of the three legs politely declines to participate, preferring to remain a line segment. Set in the rarefied world of violin restoration, Claude Sautet’s magnificently chilly 1992 “romance” Un Cœur En Hiver (also known as A Heart In Winter) sets up a fairly conventional scenario, introducing two longtime friends and business partners whose cozy routine gets shaken up when both desire the same woman. Maxime (André Dussollier) is the wheeler and dealer, schmoozing clients with practiced charm; he’s the one who initially becomes involved with Camille (Emmanuelle Béart), an up-and-coming violinist whose instrument has a slightly warped bridge. Repairing such flaws is the province of Stéphane (Daniel Auteuil), who runs a tiny workshop tucked in the back of Maxime’s office space and inhabits an equally tiny room adjacent to it. For whatever reason—rarely has that phrase been more apt—Stéphane decides to pursue Camille himself, in his own peculiar and passive way, despite his loyalty to Maxime. It’s the Postman Always Rings Twice template, with one crucial difference: Nothing ever happens, because Stéphane—for whatever reason—doesn’t actually want Camille, even as she becomes obsessed with him.
What’s going on in this guy’s head? Sautet kicks off the film with a canny bit of misdirection, having Stéphane speak to us directly in first-person voice-over narration. That technique primes us for a character study, but Stéphane talks almost entirely about Maxime, revealing little about himself, and the narration vanishes after the first couple of minutes, never to return. That leaves us with Auteuil’s astonishingly recessive, self-contained performance, which is the human equivalent of a “no entrance” sign. Most of Un Cœur En Hiver consists of Auteuil impassively looking at others, his expression unreadable. Stéphane isn’t emotionless or robotic, by any means—we see warmth, curiosity, genuine interest, compassion—but Auteuil almost never signals the character’s ostensibly subterranean feelings (as, say, Anthony Hopkins so skillfully does in The Remains Of The Day). Only once, when Maxime shows him the apartment he plans to move into with Camille, does Stéphane briefly appear stricken. He tells Maxime that it must be the paint fumes from the renovation in progress—an explanation that most viewers will naturally perceive as a variation on “Boy, sure is dusty in here.” But this film’s unique genius is that it might actually be the fumes.
This maddening ambiguity wouldn’t work without Béart providing all of the fiery passion that Auteuil carefully withholds. (The two had long been romantically involved in real life, for a touch of extratextual irony; they finally got married the following year, then divorced a few years later.) Camille spends much of the film rehearsing for a recording session in which she plays several Ravel compositions, and Béart reportedly spent a year learning how to convincingly mime her parts; if nothing else, she succeeds in matching Ravel’s intensity, both with the violin and without.
Among other things, Camille serves as a stand-in for the audience, refusing to accept Stéphane’s calm insistence that he and Maxime aren’t friends, that he doesn’t love Camille despite his apparent interest in her, that he’s simply not built for turmoil. “You aren’t like that,” she replies. “Nobody is. It doesn’t happen. It’s a pose.” And we’re inclined to agree, because we’ve been conditioned not to accept clear, simple explanations for a fictional character’s behavior, especially when those explanations seem contrary to our understanding of how people behave. Sautet provides a few possible clues, most notably a subplot about Stéphane’s old violin teacher (Maurice Garrel), who’s terminally ill. It’s even possible to interpret Maxime, rather than Camille, as the object of Stéphane’s deeply buried affection. Even as we strive to peer beyond the surface, though, it remains disturbingly credible that in this particular, offbeat instance, a placid and genial surface is all there is.
Availability: Un Cœur En Hiver is currently streaming via Kanopy (from selected libraries). For the time being, there’s also a rip of it on YouTube.
38 Comments
So, is Stephane a psychopath? A stand-in for the camera – impassive while staring down its subjects, moving closer or further away at its user’ discretion, inciting emotions in the people being witnessed?
Maybe, probably both? I’m thinking the casting of Emmanuelle Béart as the “pursuer” and not the one being pursued adds a lot to the audience’s disconnect with Stéphane.
I don’t know what to make of the commentator’s claim that Daniel Auteuil’s performance is the most masterful he has seen in the history of film. While reading this piece I immediately thought of Peter Sellers in Being There. This has been done before.
I did a quick reread and I don’t see such a claim anywhere.
Click on “Play” – it’s in the audio. Mike D’Angelo, around 1:24.
I said among the most, not the most. And Auteuil’s performance isn’t at all like Sellers’, really. He’s much more “normal,” with plenty of emotional nuance. (Which is to be expected, since this is a drama and Being There is a comedy.)
Him being the only person willing to assist in his old teacher’s suicide suggests that, for sure. But though it’s been some time since I’ve seen this film, which I greatly enjoyed, I think Stéphane is what happens when a person keeps “acting” emotionless – eventually, the mask becomes the person.
This film could not be any more French if it was wearing a beret, smoking a cigarette and complaining about the quality of bread in your city.
This comment about French culture could not be any more American if it was wearing a MAGA cap, smoking meth and complaining about minorities.
The beret’s a bit much, but otherwise the comment is spot on. If the French aren’t arguing about bread, they’re arguing about which region speaks the “truest” French.
To be fair, French is a constructed language, basically the particular dialect spoken by King Francis I when he decided he was sick of official documents being written in Latin, with modifications when Cardinal Richelieu established the Academie Francaise as the official purity tester of French. There is no “true” French. Which means francophones can argue to their heart’s content.
You could make the same argument for standard German, which really only exists in writing and the voices of newscasters, and probably for English and many other languages. Of course, not many English or German speakers argue about what is or is not the purest form of the language.
Neither English nor German has an official government agency dedicated to keep the language pure. Not sure if having the Academie Francaise makes francophones more likely to argue about “true” French, or if the constant arguments made Richelieu create the Academie.(Knowing that rat bastard Richelieu, he probably fell in love with the idea of yet another organ to control people’s lives.)
You seem cranky. Maybe you should take ze nap….AND THEN FIRE ZE MISSILES!!!
Actually the comment about French culture isn’t specific to Americans. I’m English, have lived in France and yeah, I agree with Captain Splendid that, save for the beret, all the rest is spot on.
You forgot the red scarf, curly mustache, and frequent utterances of “Aaungh!”
that Emmanuelle Béart is breathtakingly beautiful and radiates compassion makes Auteuil’s indifference all the more perplexing. get with it dude, you’re not bad lookin in a Gallic way, but she’s way out of your league, is what we all resisted the urge to yell at the screen.
Yeah, I can’t really read this review because EB’s beauty is so breathtaking in both of the stills that it’s super distracting. *However* and apologies for stereotyping or focusing on outward appearances, but the attractiveness gap you point out is not atypical in French cinema or possibly also in real life in France (thinking of one particular French couple I knew, stunning radiant blonde and haggard smoker guy).
Let’s not forget that Monica Bellucci – one of the most gorgeous women in the history of the world – was married to Frenchman Vincent Cassel… sure, he’s not absolutely grotesque, but there was definitely a HUGE attractiveness gap between them. Bloody ugly French guys punching above their weight… 🙁
oh i dunno, Vincent is a handsome swine. Not conventionally handsome, sure, but charismatic as hell too. tbf, who really IS in Monica’s class, though?
Shh! These American solipsists think that Seinfeld invented that trope!
Yup. And it’s all the sadder that she completely buggered her looks up with plastic surgery later on. She could have aged so elegantly and gracefully, like so many French women do, but instead decided to go the Meg Ryan route. Such a pity.
did she? Thats awful. Yeah, i know, not her fault, unequal gendered beauty standards etc etc but it’s still disappointing. And there’s lot’s of actresses who have let their looks mature beautifully too – Hellen Mirren, Catherine Deneauve, god, Judy Dench, still gorgeous.
Ugh. You ever considered that the constant and unnecessary scrutiny over actresses’ looks and how well they age is WHAT CONTRIBUTES TO their decision to get plastic surgery.
nah, you should give it a go, it’s really good (though it haven’t seen it since holy shit 92!) Her radiance – physically, intellectually, emotionally – works perfectly for the story.
I know it has a good critical reputation, but I always found it extraordinary that Jacques Rivette could film a young Béart totally naked for nearly four hours of screen time in La Belle Noiseuse and still make it one of the most boring cinematic experiences of my life.
Oh for crying out loud. Who is it you expect beautiful women to date? Do you think they go about matching their looks to potential partners like paint chips? If you are extraordinarily good looking, it’s going to be kind of limiting to only date other extraordinarily good looking people.
Do i think they go about matching their looks to potential partners like paint chips? um, yeah, a lot of them do! Either looks or money. Sorry to be crass, but look at the world!(But thats not really the point of the movie, which is excellent)
You just added money to the equation, and you could add a lot more qualities on top of that. The point is one should not be surprised when partners are not matched in looks. And I live in the world. I have for 53 (nearly 54) years. I have a pretty good idea of how it works.
Availability: Un Cœur En Hiver is currently streaming via Kanopy (from selected libraries). For the time being, there’s also a rip of it on YouTube.Is this new or am I now just noticing The AV Club suggesting pirated material?
I’ll have to check this out, even though watching actors mime violin-playing is a trigger for me.I’m curious if the choice of Ravel (who wrote music that sometimes deals in a programmatic way with mirrors and surfaces) is incidental, or if it has an element of metatextuality – I tend to think of Ravel’s music as rather glossy and surfacey, like beautiful instagram pictures that had the light bloom turned up and all the blemishes photoshopped out, so they appear like out of some uncanny valley on an earthlike planet.
Re-watched this just a week or so ago and forgot Maxime is married. His wife is only mentioned once or twice and never seen.
I’ve never understood the appeal of the romantic triangle, in large part because I can’t empathize or respect anyone (even a fictional character) who would allow him/herself to be in one. I would never do that to a woman, let alone two, and if one tried to pull that shit on me I’d be out the door so fast her head would spin.
This is such a beautifully naïve statement that I genuinely believe you come by it honestly…
All it takes to be in a romantic triangle is to wake up one morning and find yourself in love with someone who is in love with someone else. Not only would you not have any control over that, you might not even know it was happening… You could also be in a romantic triangle because you are in love with someone while someone else is in love with you. Again, no control or agency on your part. You might not even know. A third possibility: You could be in a romantic relationship with someone and then realize that you are in love with someone else. You say you “would never do that to a woman” but again, that’s assuming a level of control that most people don’t have. (It wouldn’t be called “love” if we could always control it.) If you lack the ability to respect or empathize with people facing circumstances outside their control, that might be a medical issue; you should consult with a mental health care professional. Meanwhile, most of us face circumstances outside of our control on a regular basis. If we live long enough, some of those circumstances may well be romantic in nature. It’s… complex but not necessary complicated.
But all that aside, the single most naïve thing you wrote here is the “appeal” of the romantic triangle eluding you. As a literary or cinematic construction, the “appeal” of the scenario is that it is a real thing that happens to real people with emotional honesty, depth, and experience. And depicting it helps people relive/replay/relitigate those circumstances in their own lives. It’s really that simple. I’m a perfectly average person and I haven’t had a single decade of my romantic life where I wasn’t either blindsided by the intensity of my emotions for someone else when I least expected it or surprised to learn of the intensity of someone else’s emotions for me. (Sometimes those feelings, when revealed, are reciprocated… but that’s a different kind of movie.) Whether I was the object of the feelings or wrestling with them myself, no part of it – other than being found desirable by another human being – was about the “appeal” of the situation itself. No part of it was about “doing something” to the third party or “pulling [any] shit” on anyone. People feel what they feel. Some of those feelings get directed toward people who are/should be emotionally and/or romantically unavailable to us because life is messy. The “appeal” of that situation – in the literary sense – is simply in the depiction of something that happens to real people in all cultures, and has throughout time.
[I can’t explain to you why that’s a more compelling model for a story than “boy and girl meet, fall in love, have a perfectly stable relationship, and experience the bliss of their time together without any other romantic entanglements or interests ever being expressed toward them by anyone else in their lives.” I just know that no one has made a trailer that attempts to sell me that movie. Sounds like you’d be interested. I’m inclined to pass.]
I just figured that Auteuil was getting revenge on her for the way she ignored him in Manon de Source. What goes around comes around.
Crazy to see this film reviewed here. I haven’t seen it in ages, but it was definitely an amazing film. A friend of mine worked at Blockbuster back in the early 90s, so I was always hanging out there and renting things. This was one film I rented over and over again. Loved it. It got me exploring other foreign films, mostly French, like Manon des Sources (also with Beart and Auteuil) and Au Revoir, Les Enfants.
This is a truly great film, but to get more into the spirit of Love Week—with the same two leads—I suggest Manon of the Spring, which is luscious, lovely, heartbreaking, and highly accessible. Bonus: Emmanuelle Béart is naked in it, which based on some of the comments below is a strong selling point.You may want to watch La Belle Noiseuse too. Less accessibility, but more nudity.
a great love triangle when one of the three isn’t in loveIsn’t that just stalking in stereo?