It is with some slight trepidation that I submit a negative verdict on 'Un long dimanche de fiancailles'. So many members of the IMDb evidently adore it. Precisely for this reason, though, I am disposed to air a contrary opinion, if only to reassure anyone else who may see the film, dislike it, and visit this website, that he or she is not alone.
'Un long dimanche de fiancailles' has an intricate and potentially affecting storyline about the unswerving devotion of a young Frenchwoman (Mathilde) to her fiancé (Manech), believed killed in the First World War. It also has a very inventive, painstaking, and distinctive director. Unfortunately, subject-matter and directorial style are badly mismatched. To give credit where it is due, the battle sequences are powerful and shocking (and it is no bad thing for those of us who have never encountered war to be reminded just how fortunate we are). The film as a whole, however, sinks under a gratuitous load of quaint gimmicks, irrelevant whimsies, and distractingly unreal beauty. Mathilde appears to pass her entire life in warm, soft, golden sunlight of a kind that the rest of us only ever see during particularly spectacular sunsets. Every back-drop resembles a painting or, at least, a very superior picture postcard.Every scene is pepped-up by the introduction of some superfluous remarkable feature, be it a tuba, an artificial hand, or a lighthouse. And the less said the better about the lurid sub-plot concerning Tina Lombardi. Desperate attention-seeking is the hallmark of this film.
Now, highly-coloured hyperactive artificiality can work very well in comedy - it did in 'Amelie' indeed - but this story of war, suffering, and love called for restraint and the art that conceals art. To swamp it with pretty pictures and quirky detail is tasteless and ineffective. 'Un long dimanche de fiancailles' might be likened to a lily that has been not merely gilded but set with rhinestones, fixed to a turntable, and illuminated by flashing neon. I found it quite impossible to suspend disbelief and accept Mathilde and Manech as real people in genuine situations. I was continually reminded that I was watching the elaborate efforts of an ingenious film-maker striving - oh, so very hard! - to provide non-stop diversion and show off his own cleverness. The film failed to engage my emotions; its relentless flashiness bored me.
'Un long dimanche de fiancailles' has an intricate and potentially affecting storyline about the unswerving devotion of a young Frenchwoman (Mathilde) to her fiancé (Manech), believed killed in the First World War. It also has a very inventive, painstaking, and distinctive director. Unfortunately, subject-matter and directorial style are badly mismatched. To give credit where it is due, the battle sequences are powerful and shocking (and it is no bad thing for those of us who have never encountered war to be reminded just how fortunate we are). The film as a whole, however, sinks under a gratuitous load of quaint gimmicks, irrelevant whimsies, and distractingly unreal beauty. Mathilde appears to pass her entire life in warm, soft, golden sunlight of a kind that the rest of us only ever see during particularly spectacular sunsets. Every back-drop resembles a painting or, at least, a very superior picture postcard.Every scene is pepped-up by the introduction of some superfluous remarkable feature, be it a tuba, an artificial hand, or a lighthouse. And the less said the better about the lurid sub-plot concerning Tina Lombardi. Desperate attention-seeking is the hallmark of this film.
Now, highly-coloured hyperactive artificiality can work very well in comedy - it did in 'Amelie' indeed - but this story of war, suffering, and love called for restraint and the art that conceals art. To swamp it with pretty pictures and quirky detail is tasteless and ineffective. 'Un long dimanche de fiancailles' might be likened to a lily that has been not merely gilded but set with rhinestones, fixed to a turntable, and illuminated by flashing neon. I found it quite impossible to suspend disbelief and accept Mathilde and Manech as real people in genuine situations. I was continually reminded that I was watching the elaborate efforts of an ingenious film-maker striving - oh, so very hard! - to provide non-stop diversion and show off his own cleverness. The film failed to engage my emotions; its relentless flashiness bored me.