For a few months, the beautiful wife of a popular and wealthy composer foolishly attempts to deal with a random tragedy by cutting herself off from her past life.
Excellent craftsmanship on all fronts. High on the Kuleshov effect, low on ideas. The role of the European Union, paying for a Christian symphony, just makes me think of the board game Europa 1945-2030 and similarly oblivious propaganda at the expense of art.
While the other two films of the trilogy can be seen in any order, this one should come last or you’ll miss the significance of the final scene.
As much as I like Trintignant, I am sad to say he’s the best thing about this movie. He plays a parodic metaphor for the Abrahamic god: a retired judge who spies on people and passes universally negative judgement. There is no reason why Valentine—a young model with a heart of gold!—would be so fascinated by that character. It’s a cliché of wish-fulfilling bourgeois literature. The plot builds to a disappointing meditation on author fiat deliberately conflated with random chance, destiny and prophecy. It’s a fantasy movie for auteur geeks who won’t admit they like fantasy movies. At least the use of colour is a little bit more subtle than in the previous film, but then again, the camerawork is even more brashly self-conscious, with more than one accelerated Steadicam shot serving no purpose other than to bring attention to artifice.