In the Name of My Daughter (L'homme qu'on aimait trop)

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Andre Techine/Starring: Catherine Deneuve, Guillaume Canet and Adele Haenel

In the Name of My Daughter isn't exactly a murder mystery nor is it what we might call a crime film here in America. What it is is Andre Techine's version of a crime drama, though that only becomes apparent a little more than half-way through its 116 minutes. Rather than sensationalizing the story, Techine narrows his narrative focus to a psychological triangle, while also leaving us to guess the fate of a woman whose disappearance all but incriminates her lover.

Though based on a true story, Techine is unable harness its dark, real-world, dramatic potential and what's left is nothing more than a news story with psychological embellishment.

Adapted from a book by Jean-Charles Le Roux, In the Name of My Daughter tells the story of Renee Le Roux (Catherine Deneuve); vice-president of a Cote d'azur casino in the 1970s'. Trying to save what is a failing establishment, she promotes her cunning and sometimes ruthless lawyer, Maurice Agnelet (Guillaume Canet) to that of a consultant. Maurice immediately flexes his Machiavellian muscle by helping Renee remove a key figure in the casino management; an incompetent who permits a gang of underworld figures to cheat the casino out of a few million dollars.

As Renee jockeys for the casino presidency, her daughter Agnes shows up to demand her inheritance from her father's will; which will enable her to open her own store. Renee resists her daughter's pleas but Agnes is able to secure alternate funding.

Agnes and Maurice make contact one day during her swimming constitutional (her frequent water-excursions play a somewhat significant role in the film). Through mildly flirtatious conversation, Maurice initiates his slow seduction though Agnes proves to be a difficult catch. It is interesting to note that Maurice's last name means "little lamb" while Agnes is derived from the Latin word for lamb. Agnes is quick to point out the incompatibility of his last name and his ambitious nature. The observation proves to be truer than she can imagine.

Soon Maurice's ambitions get the best of him when Renee refuses to promote him to a more influential position in the casino. Angry and vindictive, he quits the casino to plot her downfall with the help of one of her rivals, Fratoni (Jean Corso). Fratoni's alleged ties to the underworld and his aggressive modus operandi of buying failing casinos, liquidating them then re-selling the property to developers makes him a formidable opponent. But Renee discovers that Fratoni and Maurice are hardly her only her only concerns. Agnes, weary of begging her mother for her share of the inheritance, accepts a deal, via Maurice's intercession, in which she will accept a payment equivalent to the amount of her inheritance from Fratoni in exchange for casting a vote against her mother's presidential bid at the next casino board meeting.

Of course Renee sees her daughter's deal-with-the-devil as a betrayal (it is), for which Agnes feels more than a just a little tortured ambivalence.

As Agnes and Maurice become lovers, he makes it clear to her that his interest in women doesn't extend beyond that of a mistress; a caveat she ignores to her own peril.

Ever mysterious and maybe dangerous, we are never sure of Maurice's motives and how far he'll go to get what he wants or to shed women who demand too much of his love and time. Guillaume Canet plays Maurice, not with hissing malevolence, but as a young opportunist out to get his slice of the pie. We feel and probably know Agnes will somehow be on the losing end of Maurice's machinations but it takes awhile for us to see who and what he may be. Techine's film is rather deliberate in its desire to get anywhere.

One scene that forebodes ill for Agnes is the scene in the bank where she and Maurice divide her payment from Fratoni. Maurice makes an arrangement whereby he can access her share without her consent (though she also has access to his, theoretically). Watching Maurice and Agnes in their respective, private safe-deposit box rooms may leave one feeling rather uneasy; knowing he probably has diabolical designs on her share.

In time, Fratoni gains control of the casino, which also means its swift demise; leaving Renee high and dry and her relationship with Agnes all but ruined. But Renee is hardly Maurice's only victim, for Agnes discovers falling for him means love unrequited and callous disregard.

Agnes' subsequent disappearance makes Maurice a prime suspect but as he tells a courtroom, no body means no crime. Without evidence to convict him, he flees France for Panama, where he begins a new life.

The story picks up decades later, where a gray-haired Renee petitions the courts to re-open the case against Maurice, which necessitates him being recalled from Panama. Much older and white-haired, he sits in the courtroom as the case commences.

Subtitles greet the eye before the credits, which tell of the trial's outcome and Maurice's fate. Is Maurice guilty? Techine is less interested in the answer than showing us the Maurice/Renee/Agnes triangle's corrosivity.

I admire Techine for his restrained approach in telling this story but what it needs is some venom; some Diabolique nastiness rather than tasteful even-handedness.

I don't mind that Techine didn't turn Maurice into Hannibal Lecter, but he seemed to depict him as a dreary cipher. Sure, he has some moments where his creepy manipulations make themselves known, but it wasn't enough. I did like the film's moral relativism; no one seems very virtuous, even the story's ultimate victim: Agnes.

I like Techine's films but don't know that I've ever loved them. I also don't know that I've ever felt compelled to re-visit the ones I have enjoyed but maybe a retrospective of his work would change my mind. In the Name of My Daughter is merely okay. For a French filmmaker, that word might seem unforgivably obscene but it applies. The word is handy when a film-goer feels passionately indifferent about a movie. To assign it a loftier honorific would be criminal.

3 Hearts (3 Coeurs)

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Benoit Jacquot/Starring: Charlotte Gainsbourg, Chiara Mastroianni, Catherine Deneuve and Benoit Poelvoorde

You know you're watching a French film when a middle-age man initiates a conversation with an unhappy but beautiful middle-age woman, then after walking and talking all night, agrees to meet her a week later in a Parisian park, only to arrive late to the meeting, thus missing what might have been. We know instinctively, from our experiences watching French cinema, that the thwarted assignation will have powerful ramifications. But I'm not being dismissive of what the French do so well; I'm actually praising the French for excelling in telling stories that are both intimate and riveting. In Benoit Jacquot's 3 Hearts, we have both qualities in abundance.

Benoit Poelvoorde stars as Marc Beaulieu, a Parisian tax auditor who finds himself in a small French town for the night. Out late in the deserted streets, he meets a woman, Sylvie Berger (the beautiful Charlotte Gainsbourg) walking alone. He asks her for directions to a hotel as a pretext for conversation. The pair end up spending a romantic evening strolling, until dawn arrives. Mutually enchanted, they agree to meet in Paris the following week. But though Sylvie is punctual, Marc is held up in traffic and arrives too late. Dejected, Sylvie walks away sadly while Marc, staring at an empty park chair, thinks about his stifled opportunity.

In another scene, we see Sylvie bidding on antiques at an auction. She wins a beautiful but expensive mirror for the family antique store, in which her sister Sophie (Chiara Mastroianni) acts as proprietress. Shortly after, as her heart-broken sister leaves for America, Sophie tends to the store's financial troubles, which are many and dire.

After having sought advice on the store's troubled finances in the town tax office, Sophie stands in a corridor, overcome with anxiety and tears. Marc, who happens to be serving in the offices on an out-of-Paris assignment, happens to notice Sophie sobbing and stops to offer an ear and some sympathy. Wanting to help and maybe get to know Sophie, he agrees to help her with her books. After fixing a potentially pernicious problem, a romance burgeons and before long, Sophie finds herself leaving her boyfriend for Marc. A courtship follows in which Marc meets Sophie's mother, Madame Berger (Catherine Deneuve, Mastroianni's real-life mother). And while the happy couple's relationship hastens toward marriage, Sophie shares her joy with Sylvie via Skype while Marc just narrowly misses being seen onscreen.

The audience may know where this is will lead and although the plot seems a tad bit gimmicky, Director Benoit Jacquot doesn't let the story become a silly contrivance. As Sophie and Marc make wedding arrangements, the audience dreads the imminent moment when Sylvie will learn Marc is to be her brother-in-law. Having seen Sylvie's picture on Madame Berger's wall, Marc is well aware of his predicament. And before the wedding commences, Sylvie finally learns of the groom's identity when she accidentally sees him on another Skype call. Her reaction is powerful and the scene wrenching.

A subplot involving the Mayor of the town who, after presiding at Marc and Sophie's wedding, is the subject of one of Marc's audits, which reveals illicit irregularities. Marc's refusal to help someone so close to the Berger family betrays a hypocritical devotion to his own mercurial principles, which he was quick to overlook when re-auditing Sophie's records.

When Sylvie arrives for the wedding reception, the tension is almost overpowering.

The suspense is heightened further as we wonder if Sophie will learn of Sylvie and Marc's past and whether the revelation could destroy the marriage. Jacquot, like many excellent French directors, knows how to make a relationship drama burn. He keeps the roiling pace steady but it helps to have an exceptional cast at the call. Gainsbourg is a fascinating actress. She can project vulnerability and coiled rage at the same time. Mastroianni is no less intriguing while I wish Deneuve had had more to do. Poolvoorde is another physical contradiction; he has a buffoon's face one moment, a thoughtful and compassionate mien the next; an appropriate contrast for someone who has gotten himself--inadvertently--into a tangled mess.

When the situation becomes nearly unbearable, Jacquot wisely keeps the outcome as messy and unresolved as the triangle itself. The final scene shows us an affective what if scenario; something neat, tidy and romantic to play against the Gordian knot strangling Marc, Sophie and Sylvie.

I was drawn into the story. A few scenes made me squirm and I couldn't help but be moved by the idea that a failed rendezvous could bring about so much misfortune for three people. Is the film a singular achievement? No, but it sears nevertheless. One may feel the story relies too much on a hard to swallow Macguffin, to wit; the coincidental meeting of Marc and Sophie but one need not slavishly adhere to the strict demands of reality to be carried along by the story.

It seems so little French cinema crosses the oceanic divide these days, so seeing Jacquot's drama is a bit of a relief. I hope more are forthcoming; American films are quite toxic this time of year.