Sagan (2008) - film review

In 1954, without her parents’ knowledge, 18-year-old Françoise Quoirez published a novel that was to earn her instant celebrity and a revered place in French literature.   That novel was Bonjour Tristesse; its writer is better known by her nom-de-plume, Françoise Sagan.   The immense success of this first novel allowed Quoirez to live the life that she yearned for, one of freedom and excess, unhampered by constraints of wealth or societal expectations.  But as her writing career flourished, her personal life would become increasingly perilous, and the fulfilment she sought would become increasingly elusive...

Anyone familiar with the life and work of the controversial writer Françoise Sagan is unlikely to respond favourably to this insipid portrait of her life, which consists of a series of dramatised, and often overly sentimentalised, vignettes that add up to very little.  The passion, rebelliousness and lust for life which are so apparent in Sagan’s writing are singularly lacking in this film.

Sagan was originally conceived and shot as a mini-series for French television, consisting of two ninety minute episodes.  When Luc Besson saw the film, he bought the rights and gave it a theatrical cinema release a few months before its TV screening, having cut its runtime down to two hours.  And therein lies the problem.  This is the cinematic equivalent of an opportunistic hand-me-down, and it feels like it. 

The film was directed by Diane Kurys, one of France’s most respected female filmmakers, best known for her acclaimed 1983 film Coup de foudre.   Sagan compares poorly with many of Kurys’ previous films.  The direction is competent but lacks inspiration, the script is complacent and mechanical, characters are poorly defined... Even having the talented Sylvie Testud playing the part of Sagan cannot help rescue the film.  The whole thing just feels so vacuous, painfully lacking in passion and charm.  This must surely rate as one of the dullest biopics ever to have been made in France.  A wasted opportunity.

© James Travers 2008

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