The greatest directors can make the most from the very least, and in this case, Éric Rohmer initially seems to present the viewer with the flimsiest of comic scenarios. A quiet young woman, Delphine, played expertly by Marie Rivière, finds herself short a summer vacation traveling companion. Big deal, right? From this we get a series of semi-humorous scenes, some verging on banality, in which Delphine travels to various spots, walks around or talks airily about things, but cannot enjoy herself, not only because she's physically alone, even when with friends, but also because, as we soon learn, she has broken up with a longtime boyfriend, Jean-Pierre.
What initially appears to be a depiction of loneliness born of isolation shades into a portrait, lightly but beautifully handled under Rohmer's tough, of a young woman's melancholy, frustration and depression. Delphine breaks into tears several times, and each episode raises the stakes, showing how sad and ultimately angry she truly is, not just because she has truly lost Jean-Pierre, but because she is the kind of person who is not demonstrative, not the life of the party--like the Swedish acquaintance she meets in Biarritz, or her Parisian friends--not inclined to play the games expected of single women. Instead, Delphine is a shy, soft- spoken introvert who takes things and potential relationships as they come, which might mean that she'll never again have a chance at love, or that she won't be able to act in the expected ways if the opportunity were to present itself.
Except that maybe she does, or at the very least, she does seize an opportunity that looks like desperation at first until the entire scene plays out. Though I clicked the "spoiler" button I will not give away the ending, but it is a stunner, so simple and incredibly moving. What is also a testament to Rohmer's genius is how he sets it all up, with a very believable, overheard, improvised conversation earlier, revolving around Jules Verne's story *The Green Ray,* and the mythic element in it. This should be a film every film student studies to learn how to pull off the most powerful emotional payoff with what appears to be almost nothing. And Rohmer and Rivière earn it. Superb.
What initially appears to be a depiction of loneliness born of isolation shades into a portrait, lightly but beautifully handled under Rohmer's tough, of a young woman's melancholy, frustration and depression. Delphine breaks into tears several times, and each episode raises the stakes, showing how sad and ultimately angry she truly is, not just because she has truly lost Jean-Pierre, but because she is the kind of person who is not demonstrative, not the life of the party--like the Swedish acquaintance she meets in Biarritz, or her Parisian friends--not inclined to play the games expected of single women. Instead, Delphine is a shy, soft- spoken introvert who takes things and potential relationships as they come, which might mean that she'll never again have a chance at love, or that she won't be able to act in the expected ways if the opportunity were to present itself.
Except that maybe she does, or at the very least, she does seize an opportunity that looks like desperation at first until the entire scene plays out. Though I clicked the "spoiler" button I will not give away the ending, but it is a stunner, so simple and incredibly moving. What is also a testament to Rohmer's genius is how he sets it all up, with a very believable, overheard, improvised conversation earlier, revolving around Jules Verne's story *The Green Ray,* and the mythic element in it. This should be a film every film student studies to learn how to pull off the most powerful emotional payoff with what appears to be almost nothing. And Rohmer and Rivière earn it. Superb.