It’s a testament to the directing and writing of Eric Rohmer, and the performances of the actors, that the characters in The Aviator’s Wife (1981) come off as understandable and empathetic, even as they’re wrapped up in their own emotional problems and romantic overthinking. Then again, Rohmer’s talky, French serio-comic catalogue is not for everyone – this is my second one though after Full Moon In Paris and I was really taken by the light, deceptive quality of The Aviator’s Wife. This was the first of Rohmer’s ‘proverbs’ collection (this story responds to the saying, ‘it is impossible to think of nothing’), and knowing that it contained a detective sleuthing element, I was compelled to check it out. Alongside its opening shots of a mail room’s inner workings, and scenes inside a subway platform, the camerawork is documentary-like and observational. There’s a grounded quality to the way Paris is represented here, even though the main plot is about a young man tailing his girlfriend’s lover, a pilot who is married.
The movie is very talky and proceeds with an unhurried pace, watching characters go from A to B. Francois (Philippe Marlaud) is a postal officer who works night shifts. While visiting the building of his girlfriend, the older Anne (Marie Riviere) in the morning to leave a note, he spots her leaving with another man, Christian (Mathieu Carriere). Unbeknownst to Francois, Christian is saying good bye to Anne – they had an affair in the past before Francois and Anne got together – and now he’s going back to his wife. When Francois asks Anne about it, she only wants to talk about it much later, when she’s back from visiting her mother. Sleep deprived and unsettled, stuck in uncertainty, Francois wanders the city streets and accidentally crosses paths again with the married man, Christian. So he decides to follow the pilot and the woman he’s with, presumably his wife. This eventually leads to a detour at a park where Francois’ spying initiates a chance encounter with a teenage student, Lucie (Anne-Laure Meury), who proceeds to help him maintain surveillance while idly chatting away. There’s a bit more to it all, and the plot unfolds in a relaxed way even as its characters are boxing themselves in with their emotional states. Only thinking about The Aviator’s Wife afterwards did the emotional complexities within the film’s chance encounters and ongoing conversations occur to me. The acting helps considerably; we see the character’s side of things through them, even when on the surface they could try one’s patience, such as Anne’s indecisiveness and how it relates to a certain sadness and depression, beautifully performed by Riviere. Similarly, Francois wanting an answer might be pedantic, suffocating behaviour, but it’s also understandable, and there’s a lonely, woozy vibe to him trekking through the city, similar to the Bresson film, Four Nights Of A Dreamer.
Available to stream on Mubi. Looking forward to exploring more of Rohmer’s catalogue which is all on there. Recommended.
VHS Tracking 