All flowers nurse a secret sorrow. Some boast hopes and dreams. They sing to us in voiceover, foreshadowing the mood swings in Olivier Dahan's hypnotic ballad.
All blonde-mother-son movies come from one source. _La vie Promise_ inverts _Paris,Texas_'s journey: amnesiac Sylvia (Isabelle Huppert) retraces her path to long-lost husband-and-son, while Laurence (Maud Forget), the daughter by her side, is left chasing her across France. Faded polaroids and grainy home videos (Sylvia in a cowboy hat) are bread crumbs, all that is left of her memory.
All men are poor wayfaring strangers. Joshua (Pascal Gregory, more soulful than we have seen him) is Laurence's guardian angel, then the mother's confessional priest. He dresses the part too. Of course he turns out to be an ex-con. Knighting himself, he escorts his Ladies over River Jordan.
All of Sylvia's wardrobe is stunning and out-of-place. Chinese silk, high heels, grey nails: a street walker's getup in rural France as she travels back in time. She finds haunted villages in the mist, long-forgotten neighbors, her burnt-down bridal home. The Virgin Mary statuette still stands, a miracle.
All pastoral scenes are painterly rendered by day, anamorphic golden fields against dense verdant trees. At night ghostly rivers sparkle, those are neon blue. The interior scenes are also blue, and filled with terror, unless they are red, or some other flowers' eerie color. It is as though the characters cannot bear to face themselves indoors. The clever camera movement makes the lighting pop, flashing out warnings like UFOs. (Talented cinematographer Alex Lamarque would die young.)
All music is mournful pop, florid and overripe, until it resolves into quiet strings. The trio arrive at the edge of the world; Sylvia earns her redemption. The ending feels purified, rinsed in cold water, as the protagonists double back on the open road. Can they now face themselves when they run out of asphalt? A lone wildflower sways in the wind, and poses the question.
All blonde-mother-son movies come from one source. _La vie Promise_ inverts _Paris,Texas_'s journey: amnesiac Sylvia (Isabelle Huppert) retraces her path to long-lost husband-and-son, while Laurence (Maud Forget), the daughter by her side, is left chasing her across France. Faded polaroids and grainy home videos (Sylvia in a cowboy hat) are bread crumbs, all that is left of her memory.
All men are poor wayfaring strangers. Joshua (Pascal Gregory, more soulful than we have seen him) is Laurence's guardian angel, then the mother's confessional priest. He dresses the part too. Of course he turns out to be an ex-con. Knighting himself, he escorts his Ladies over River Jordan.
All of Sylvia's wardrobe is stunning and out-of-place. Chinese silk, high heels, grey nails: a street walker's getup in rural France as she travels back in time. She finds haunted villages in the mist, long-forgotten neighbors, her burnt-down bridal home. The Virgin Mary statuette still stands, a miracle.
All pastoral scenes are painterly rendered by day, anamorphic golden fields against dense verdant trees. At night ghostly rivers sparkle, those are neon blue. The interior scenes are also blue, and filled with terror, unless they are red, or some other flowers' eerie color. It is as though the characters cannot bear to face themselves indoors. The clever camera movement makes the lighting pop, flashing out warnings like UFOs. (Talented cinematographer Alex Lamarque would die young.)
All music is mournful pop, florid and overripe, until it resolves into quiet strings. The trio arrive at the edge of the world; Sylvia earns her redemption. The ending feels purified, rinsed in cold water, as the protagonists double back on the open road. Can they now face themselves when they run out of asphalt? A lone wildflower sways in the wind, and poses the question.