I’m a sucker for ye ole cinema Frenchy, especially the bourgeois kind where someone’s always giving a violin or cello some finger love [Un Coeur un Hiver] or staring off camera in a melancholic, yearning sort of way. Or suddenly turning their head to stare at you mid-pout, mock horror. Yes, a bit shlocky, I know. “Fromageoise” for sure. Mais oui, J’aime beaucoup. Can’t help it.
Anyway, one digresses. This is probably one of my all time favourite closing scenes of the beautifully odd love story “Confidences Trop Intimes” (2004) starring Sandrine Bonnaire in full on frump mode. love the way that they never kiss or barely touch each other throughout the entire film. It’s frustrating and claustrophobic. And the film ends with her admitting defeat in the face of love [sounding a bit Babs Cartlands here] and seeks her shrink lover who has now moved from the city to a beachside apartment – don’t ask. It ends with her on the analyst’s couch and him sat down watching her. They talk. There’s a lot of talking in that film, BTW. The camera slowly pans out from above and I find the whole thing graphically pleasing to one’s eye. probably the most romantic end to a film I’ve ever seen.