I’ve Loved You So Long (Il y a longtemps que je t’aime)
In I’ve Loved You So Long, writer and first-time director Philippe Claudel offers an intelligent, powerfully emotional drama about pain and healing, loss and redemption.
Kristin Scott Thomas stars as Juliette, who has just been released from prison after serving a 15 years for a crime which isn’t revealed at first, but which we gather is pretty terrible. Her estranged sister Léa (Else Zylberstein), a literature professor at the University of Nancy, agrees to let Juliette stay at her home which is shared by her husband Luc (Serge Hazanavicius), ailing father-in-law Papy Paul (Jean-Claude Arnaud) and two adopted daughters from Vietnam (Lise Segur and Liliy-Rose).
However, the nature of Juliette’s offence puts a strain on family relationships, with Luc questioning whether it is safe to let her spend time with the girls, and the kindly Léa exasperated by her sister’s frequent mood swings.
Juliette’s past affects every area of her life, and it is through these seemingly unremarkable events that Claudel builds his drama: Juliette trying to find a job without revealing the crime that wiped 15 years from her CV; the sadistic inquisition she is forced to endure from a dinner guest; the understanding she develops with her probation officer (Frédéric Pierrot), and the way in which it is cruelly shattered. Unlike the others, he understands what Juliette has gone through, and how a long spell in prison can break the human spirit.
Fleeting moments also inform our understanding of Juliette’s inner turmoil. Prison has taught her to become cold, withdrawn and mistrustful even of those who love her dearly. She rarely mentions the past, yet lingering shots of her tired brow or fidgety hands give expression to her true feelings. By revealing its secrets little by little Claudel’s sharp script builds emotional tension right up to the film’s closing tableau. Meanwhile flashes of caustic wit ensure that the film never strays into the realms of self-pitying melodrama.
Ultimately though, Claudel presents us with a wonderful tale of forgiveness and redemption. Each small step towards reconciliation causes us to rejoice, all the while wondering why Juliette did what she did.
Casting Kristin Scott Thomas as the shattered Juliette was an inspired decision. She gives a striking performance in the lead role, playing Juliette with an honesty borne of exhaustion. She is guarded and defensive, yet each of her actions, be it teaching her niece piano or smoking a cigarette, is charged with emotion.
Zylberstein gives a compassionate and extremely moving performance as Léa. Her love for Juliette is intense, and comes without conditions. Her role throughout is that of redeemer: not only does she rescue Juliette from the oblivion that awaits many an ex-convict; she and her husband have also created a happy home for their two adoptive daughters, who might otherwise have faced a life of poverty and rejection.
If there is one slight directorial misjudgement, it is the final revelation which, though moving, feels anticlimactic. However, strong performances from the two leads overshadow such qualms, offering a powerfully redemptive drama that is utterly absorbing.
