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France/Spain/USA 1998
Reviewed by Chris Darke
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Ten-year-old Martin Sauvagnac's mother encourages him to visit his father Victor whom he's never met before. Although illegitimate, Martin stays and grows up with his half-brothers: François, Frédéric and Benjamin. Ten years pass. Martin flees the family house after the death of his father. After living rough he turns up at Benjamin's Paris flat which he shares with his friend Alice. Martin moves in and becomes a model. He and Alice become a couple.
While visiting Spain, Alice tells Martin she's pregnant. He collapses and is hospitalised. They move into a small cottage by the sea where he recovers. Terrified by fatherhood, Martin reveals to Alice the cause of his father's death. When François committed suicide, Martin planned to leave, unable to participate in the family's grief. In a struggle with Victor, Martin accidentally pushed him down the stairs.
Convinced he's guilty of murder, Martin has himself committed to a psychiatric clinic. Alice tries to deliver a letter from him to his stepmother Lucie but encounters obstruction from Frédéric. Martin decides to hand himself over to the police and asks Lucie to testify as a witness. Benjamin tells Alice that, because of Frédéric's political ambitions, the family is obliged to testify and Martin will be tried. Alice returns to Paris and Martin is discharged from the clinic. He turns himself over to the police and is detained. Alice waits for the birth of their child.
With his thirteenth feature, André Téchiné conducts a masterly dissection of male hysteria. From the outset Martin, the illegitimate son of a wealthy provincial bourgeois family, is damaged goods. The short opening sequence sketching his childhood has Martin attempting to persuade his father he's ill. Victor Sauvagnac, the cold, business-like patriarch who sired Martin on a local hairdresser and then denied his existence for ten years, refuses to believe him. From here on in the film charts first the symptoms and then the causes of Martin's frail psychological state.
In fact, most of the major characters are scarred by family histories. After his father's death - shown in a lengthy flashback - Martin flees into the countryside where he hides like a hunted animal, eventually making his way to Paris where he meets his half-brother Benjamin's flatmate Alice. An initially brittle and impatient presence, she describes the curious interloper as "an extra-terrestrial hobo". Alice herself is psychologically delicate; her sister died young, leaving her to negotiate warring feelings of residual grief and filial jealousy. But her life with Benjamin, a struggling gay actor played by Mathieu Amalric as the livewire black sheep of the Sauvagnac family, has allowed them both to find an asexual equilibrium. "We take turns at being each other's child," is Benjamin's analysis of their relationship. Nonetheless, this quasi-parental affection transmutes into barely repressed anger and bitterness when Alice and Martin become a couple and the causes of his distress emerge. Téchiné has been here before, most recently in Les Voleurs, where he explored the internal dynamics of a crime dynasty. It was the generic element of that film which felt a little forced but its family resemblance to Alice et Martin is clear. There's the same concern with an oppressive family inheritance, but here the issues of law and 'the family business' are more subtly interrelated.
Téchiné explicitly treats the film as a case study. When Alice asks Martin to tell her about his 'flight' from the family, she uses the French word fugue. The word carries a psychoanalytic connotation, describing the state in which a subject loses awareness of his identity and flees his usual environment. Indeed, the film is another French examination of a young man's growth, via crisis, to responsibility and maturity. Martin's anxieties are triggered by Alice's pregnancy, which unleashes a double-barrelled stock of guilt relating to his half-brother François' suicide and Martin's 'parricide'. Téchiné structurally underscores this by having the explanatory flashback begin the moment Martin touches Alice's growing belly.
Dense and powerful in its emotional force, Alice et Martin's melodrama is tempered by superb performances. Newcomer Alexis Loret is shifty, pale and sympathetic as Martin, while Juliette Binoche (whom Téchiné directed once before in Rendez-vous, 1985, early in her career) develops Alice with a charged finesse, undertaking her quest with the full realisation that she too has a path to adult love before her, via Martin's self-realisation. If this is literary film-making it is the best kind, from the richness of its characterisation to the acuity of its structure. Both a cold melodrama and a psyched-up Bressonian case study, Alice et Martin is a masterly opening-up of classical French intimiste themes.