The Story of Adele H |
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[L'Histoire d'...]
Director Starring |
I can take — and often quite enjoy — flawed and maddening characters of almost all stripes. The one major exception is the sniveling, whining woman who is so because of a man… a man who, more often than not, drives her to insanity or an untimely death. In this case, it might be redeemed by its being a true story: the H is for Hugo as in Victor Hugo’s daughter, and this mad pursuit of a man who doesn’t want her appears to be grounded in fact. It is also redeemed by Truffaut’s wisely restrained direction; the fireworks come from Adjani’s performance, which may well be very good, but is nevertheless obnoxious. This is a well-crafted portrait of obsession that deserves more points than I give it, but while her love may be what drives her I just wish more focus had been given to other aspects of her life… her journal written in a secret language at first full of youthfully revolutionary insight, then slowly drifting into madness… her family life and past… oh anything else to drive her insane and then not to be so whiny about it and I would have been satisfied.
It’s this that keeps me from loving a number of otherwise lovely films… Letter From an Unknown Woman, Le Notti bianche, The Lacemaker… But, ugh! |
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