Notre histoire (1984) - film review

Robert Avranche, a middle-aged, alcoholic garage owner, is sitting on a train, reflecting on the emptiness of his life.  An attractive young woman, Donatienne, suddenly enters the compartment and tells him a story about a woman who meets a solitary man on a train and invites him to spend one night of passion with her.  Despite his depression, Robert takes the hint and follows Donatienne off the train at their next stop.  One night of free love is not enough for Robert, so he follows his new lover to her chalet home, apparently keen to forget his wife and children in Paris.  He soon discovers that not only does Donatienne have no interest in him, but that she is freely giving herself to every other man in the neighbourhood.  Robert’s obsession proves stubborn and wherever Donatienne goes, he is sure to follow...

After the highly controversial Beau-père (1981), director Bertrand Blier played it safe with his next film La Femme de mon pote (1983), a lightweight romantic comedy which saw the unlikely pairing of Isabelle Huppert with top comic of the moment, Coluche.  Whilst this latter film was a hit at the French box office, it lacked Blier’s iconoclastic touch - something which cannot be said for the film that came next.  Notre histoire marks a return to the more subversive Blier, combining the anarchic humour of Les Valseuses (1974) with the free-format surrealism of Buffet froid (1979).  Whilst it is generally not considered Blier’s best work, the film is one of his most uninhibited and offers a portrayal of obsessive love that is compelling and profoundly disturbing, all the more so for the wry anti-bourgeois comedy dressing that Blier liberally scatters over it.

The film probably would not have worked without two very accomplished actors to carry off the complex lead roles, and it is fortunate that Blier was able to call upon the services of two of the best - Alain Delon and Nathalie Baye.  Both actors appear strangely at home in Blier’s utterly bizarre fantasy world, and for Delon the film offered a welcome break from his run of tough guy gangster/cop roles that had become the mainstay of his career by this point.  Delon appears to relish every line that Blier gives him and, as a burned out, depressive alcoholic, he turns in a fine tragicomic performance that must surely rate as one of his best.  Baye is no less impressive and it is no accident that, not long after this film, she became one of French cinema’s most sought-after and most highly paid actresses.  The Delon-Baye pairing makes Notre histoire one of Blier’s most enjoyable films, even if the film suffers from a distinct lack of structure and a tendency to drift too far and too carelessly into the theatre of the absurd.  The distinguished supporting cast includes established performers such as Michel Galabru and Geneviève Fontanel and several actors who were, at the time, practically unknown, but who went on to become major stars of French cinema - Jean Reno, Vincent Lindon, Gérard Darmon and Jean-Pierre Darroussin, all looking implausibly young and hirsute.

Despite Blier’s reputation (three of his six previous films had been highly successful) and a flawless central performance from Alain Delon, Notre histore divided the critics and was only a moderate success.  In France, the film attracted an audience of just under 0.9 million, slightly better than Buffet froid but way below the 5.7 million of Les Valseuses.  It was nominated for four Césars in 1985, winning awards for the Best Actor (Alain Delon - his only win to date) and Best Original Screenplay.  Although overshadowed by the great films that Bertrand Blier would subsequently go on to make - Tenue de soirée (1986), Trop belle pour toi (1989) and Merci la vie (1991) - Notre histoire is too good, too weird to overlook.  It should be considered one of the director’s more inspired works - a deliriously eccentric existential comedy of manners with shades of Beckett and Ionesco, all tastefully garnished with a deliciously piquant Blier sauce.  As they say in France, miam miam.

© James Travers 2012

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