Rosalie Blum

Based on a series of graphic novels by Camille Jourdy, Julien Rappeneau’s poignant but adorable comedy-drama is easily the most refreshing and original movie that I’ve seen in yonks. Vincent Machot (Kyan Khojandi) is a hairdresser in the French provincial city of Nevers (the location is perfectly off the beaten track). Loveless and dominated by his mother who lives upstairs, he encounters Rosalie (Noémie Lvovsky) in her grocery shop and is immediately mesmerised by her. He follows her every move, from her singing in a church choir to drinking alone in the local bar. Unbeknown to Vincent, Rosalie has twigged what is going on and got her niece, Aude (Alice Isaaz), and a couple of her girlfriends to spy on Vincent. Rappeneau creates an unfolding mystery by employing the device of repeating a number of plot points shot first through Vincent’s and then through Aude’s perspective – the incident of Rosalie’s demonic flame dance in the woods is beautifully set up before later being logically explained. But what is it that is driving Vincent to his obsessive stalking? The sense of déjà vu that he experienced when he first saw Rosalie was not shared by her, but he is too shy to approach her. And why does she visit the penitentiary? As is the case in a lot of European cinema, glamour and brazenness are not required to create a slow-burn sexiness – Vincent is bald, Rosalie, forty-something, is detached and damaged and smokes throughout. The humour is dry, apart from the laugh-out-loud scene in which one of Aude’s friends pees herself when being chased out of Mme Marchot’s apartment, and the drama built in imperceptible layers with the lightest of touches. The legacy of the past governs the present for all of us, but by fitting it all together like a jigsaw puzzle we are sometimes allowed to see the big picture. A warm and wise movie arrives at an outcome that is completely unforeseen and is illuminated by an epilogue that touches the heart.