A Woman's Life is a film made with such certainty and elegance that even at its dullest moments, it's good enough that I couldn't write it off entirely.
Starring Léa Drucker as Gabrielle, an accomplished surgeon in her 50s, who realizes that her tireless pursuit of career and excellence has left her with little to show for it. Around her, others have families, friends, and active social networks, while Gabrielle is so tired of her husband and adopted children that she moves back into her own home just to have some peace and quiet.
Yes, it's one of those movies where the extremely wealthy have a hard time living between multiple apartments, never worrying about money, but still struggling with the ennui of it all. It is more than right to feel put off by the very premise. But, if you're willing to overlook certain factors, as if watching a fantasy film, A Woman's Life reveals some delights that almost make it worth the effort.
The biggest of those is Drucker, a fantastic actress who lights up the screen in whatever part she's in. Here, she's paired with an equally luminous Mélanie Thierry as Frida, a novelist who awakens something within Gabrielle she didn't know was there. They fall in and out of love, Gabrielle struggles with her work, and there are very traditional spats between partners that are textbook examples of this kind of cinema.
A Woman's Life is in no way surprising, and that feels like a mission statement. Even as writer/director Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet tries to liven things up with a loose episodic format, complete with vague chapter titles, you can tell where and how this story goes well before it's even started.
And that's fine! There is a place for traditional cinema, especially when it's elegantly composed like this. Drucker and Thierry make the most of their parts, and they are as magnetic as ever. Watch how much both say with mere looks alone in the few moments where the script allows them not to state the obvious.
Gabrielle, who longs for someone to take care of her but lacks the vocabulary to ask, simply puts her head in Frida's arms and asks for silence. Both know these things don't last, but for a moment, it's nice to pretend that they could.
There is also a half-baked subplot involving Gabrielle's mother, who is succumbing to dementia, and how Gabrielle distances herself from the reality that one day, she too will require someone to take care of her. But it's left frustratingly vague when everything else in the film is spelled out.
Again, Bourgeois-Tacquet is saved by her stellar cast, as Marie-Christine Barrault delivers a heartbreaking and honest performance as Gabrielle's mother. Like her daughter, she is a woman of multitudes, only they're quickly slipping away from her. Within moments, we can tell what their dynamic has been like, and how, especially now, Gabrielle would like nothing more than to be put down by her demanding parents, even if it's for one last time.
A Woman's Life is subdued, classy, and quietly moving. It is also traditional to a fault, and often too long for its own good. It deserves a tall glass of wine and an audience of a certain age. That is a perfectly commendable achievement for any film.
