La petite amie d’Antonio
France,
1992, 105 min
Shown in 1993
CREDITS
OTHER
COMMENTS
Manuel Poirier in person."I don’t know how to dance and I don’t want to learn," is surly Claudie’s first rebuff to Antonio, but the young man is set on loving this girl with cactus spines and a troubled heart. Claudie is not easy to understand, but Antonio brings rare generosity and tenacity to the challenge. The landscape, urban Normandy, is neither picturesque nor bleak: it’s a way people live. Flats and bar-tabacs and market checkouts are seen with an even-handed clarity that first-time director Poirier likewise brings to his characters. His ordinary working people, spared the job of mouthing a creator’s grand moral vision (there is none), live for the painful and redemptive allegiances of family and friends. Gestures are beautifully observed: Never have morning toast and coffee seemed so tender a coda to love made the night before. Life is hard, but not necessarily grim. Humor is recommended and dancing and loud singing are indispensible. Poirier’s feature debut has been acclaimed by French critics, who cite Maurice Pialat and the early François Truffaut as forebears, but honor Poirier’s eye as wholly his own. A fresh and perceptive cast of unknowns serves him well: Hélène Foubert, in the title role, allows a glimmer of poignancy to show through Claudie’s exasperating mushiness. “What makes life worth living?” Poirier asks in his notes on the film. It’s a tough question. But the answer might have something to do with learning how to dance.
—Alicia Springer