The abundant accolades and acquiescent reviews obtained by my latest DVD acquisition, I've loved you so long, confirmed it had to be a sensational movie. Usually, such high expectations are never met, and I am often critical of the result. However, as proved on this occasion, there are always exceptions to the rule. I was rapt from start to finish, the plot was relevant to contemporary culture in its themes, the actors were phenomenal and the pace was enthralling. Most interestingly for such a popular movie, I was left to ponder on many moral issues, some of which must be shared with you now...
Although the theme of love is at the heart of the movie, romance plays little to no role in Phillipe Claudel's latest production. The film tells the story of a woman, Juliette Fontaine (Kristin Scott Thomas), and her return to normality after a 15 year stay in prison. The reasons why she was convicted are left to be unravelled slowly in succinct spells of exposition as Juliette begins her breakthrough past the prison barriers. As she sits nervously during interviews for new jobs, potential employers look at her somewhat repulsed, shocked, and uneasy. The extended bouts of silence intensify this restlessness and tension, leaving the viewer to wonder, what could Juliette have done that was so bad?
It was her sister, Léa (Elsa Zylberstein) that picked her up from the airport as she left prison, and it is her sister with whom she is staying now as she finds a new place to live. Léa lives with her husband, their two adopted children, and her father in law who is deaf and mute. It transpires that Juliette's crime was murder making relations with the family a little strained at first, especially with respect to the children with whom she is around... What is so touching is the way in which her sister never forgot their bond during these years of absence, and doesn't judge Juliette for her actions. She's simply happy and often emotional to have her sister back, and will do whatever it takes to make her enjoy life and feel at ease around her loved ones. The brilliant collaboration between Zylberstein and Scott Thomas is mesmerising and entirely realistic, as they reminisce about their childhood together and laugh about fond memories. Zylberstein plays the role of the younger sister perfectly as she listens to Juliette, still in awe of her sibling as though their time apart had never occurred, as if no crimes had ever been committed.
This raises important issues of forgiveness and acceptance, and the extent to which you can overlook past events and move on. What is poignant is the way in which every family member gradually warms to Juliette, letting go of any preconceived notions. She slowly becomes engrained in their home environment, and involves herself wholeheartedly in daily tasks. They forget she could eventually be dangerous and are willing to include her in life, even depend on her, so long as she makes an effort too. Whatever drove her to perform that crime, it seems the clever ones in the movie are those who acknowledge prison restored her sanity and redeemed her. As the viewer, you certainly warm to Scott Thomas' coy smile, apprehensive gaze, soft tone of voice, and inquisitive eyes, but can you really love someone who committed a bitter crime?
It appears the answer is yes. What happens in her past should bear no impact on our present. Indeed, it is this view that the film tries to promote as the story unfolds. As proved by Léa, love has the ability to transcend the most horrific scenarios and not damage itself along the way. As Juliette makes her journey, we grow to care for her character, and admire her efforts to return to life. However horrific the act she may have been involved in was, the most important thing is that she's now making amends. The film shows us that if you're willing to move on and seek forgiveness, it is possible to be accepted and to accept. Love can be so strong that it will survive the toughest of obstacles, and will even drive you to act in unimaginable ways.
Juliette's attempt at getting her life back on smooth tracks is admirable. She wants to taste life and experience it as a newborn would, yet devoid of naive enthusiasm or wide eyed innocence. She walks into a bar and ends up sleeping with a stranger, not out of a craving for affection, just a bitter taste of everyday reality, which she is slowly learning to reconnect with. She doesn't forget what happens, but she is simply moving on, taking life as it comes. She takes coffees with her social security adviser, and even strikes a beautiful friendship with one of Lea's colleagues, Gérard (Olivier Cruveiller). He seems to understand her on a deeper level, as he was once a teacher in prison, and knows what the environment is like. Most importantly he understands that everyone in prison is just like you and I, their troubles were just bigger, and their sanity took the worse of them. The film thus confronts us with notions of social dysfunction driven by mental imbalance and subsequent public reactions.
Furthermore, there are reasons that Juliette was in prison, and until we know exactly what occurred and why, it's not up to us to dislike her. What do Juliette's potential employers know about her crime? As they shut the door in her face, can they truly ascertain that they know what she did? No. Nor can we, and nor can any of the people that meet her. Until we do, she must be respected as an equal. The film shows us not to judge the book by its cover. You never know the full story, and until you've read the very last page of the book, as we discover in the last quarter of the movie, you should never put a label on it.
The social security worker with whom Juliette has her weekly coffees ends up taking his own life. Indeed, we all have problems and unfortunately for a minority, mental imbalance may lead to crime or suicide. The people who lead sane lives should seek to help those less fortunate and hold out their hands to those hungry for help. At multiple occasions, the film shows us how this is done, either by adopting children, helping prisoners find jobs, taking your criminal sister back in your life, accepting your wife's potential psychopaths in your home, allowing an ex convict in the workplace, and even giving a home to a family member who can't speak or hear any longer.
I've loved you so long is about the importance of love; between parent and child, between brother and sister, between lovers, between friends and even between strangers. It might be one thing to consider yourself good, but extending that goodness to those around you is the only way in which that goodness is worth anything at all.
