Claude Chabrol! So French, so chic!

I love the nostalgia screenings at the Melbourne Film Festival, particularly this one as the following day, a Cannes Grand Prix winning remake from Russia is in the program (Minotaur.) Watch for my review of that in a couple of days.

Made in 1969, The Unfaithful Wife is a subtle and mannered exploration of a failing marriage. Wife Hélène (Stéphane Audran) and husband Charles (Michel Bouquet) live in a sprawling house near Versailles, and he commutes into Paris for work. She catches a ride with him every couple of days to shop and go to the salon.

We can see he is suspicious that she is keeping a secret. Nothing is spoken though, and they go about their day being solicitous and kindly towards each other and parenting their rather precocious son. Charles has an office job, probably a manager in some kind of conservative company. He seems strangely passionless, something that is reflected in his interactions with Hélène.

We are not really sure of his motivations – maybe curiosity or jealousy – but he engages a private detective to find out who his wife’s lover is. The man is Victor played by Maurice Ronet who had a tendency to play characters that were smooth and slick lovers and who was no doubt considered handsome at the time. Charles, in contract, is rather soft and sweet and unthreatening. He can’t help himself though and there is a confrontation between the two men which sends the film into a different kind of story arc.

What feels important is the lack of context we are given about what the two protagonist are feeling or what motivates them to do what they do. It feels like this is part of the buttoned up society that they are in, where it is not the done thing to show emotion. It means that the ending is somewhat ambiguous and leaves you pondering as to who has won and lost and what their future will be.

There is a weird stylishness to the fashion and set design. The late 60s and early 70s were a bit of an unfortunate time for interior design and ithe interior of their home looks like rather poorly designed set. Audran is supremely stylish, even though, like many female characters of the time and today, she has a tendency to go to bed in full make up.

There is a touch of humour in the story that keeps what is a fairly dark tale quite light. Charles’s consternation about the trunk of the car, that giant cigarette lighter, Brigitte and her short dress (cue the obligatory misogynist remarks from the office bros) and the very odd man at the cafe. It feels like a souffle with a hidden darkness.