Léa Seydoux has become the unofficial, modern-day Cannes darling. She has starred in an impressive 16 films that premiered at the festival since 2010, 11 of which have been in competition and one, Blue Is the Warmest Colour (2013), garnered her Best Actress as well as the film receiving the elusive Palme d’Or. She has become an unspoken good luck charm for filmmakers trying to break into the festival. This year, writer-director Marie Kreutzer’s Gentle Monster (showing In Competition) is the latest to cast Seydoux, but is her star power alone enough to carry the story?
The premise follows Lucy (Seydoux), a successful pianist who moves her family to the countryside after her filmmaker husband Philip (Laurence Rupp) needs a reset from his burnout. However, the reset is abruptly cut short when police officer Elsa (Jella Haase) conducts an invasive search of the home and takes Philip in for questioning. In a mind-bending, confronting character study, Lucy is faced with difficult decisions where she must put the safety of her son Johnny (Malo Blanchet) first.
Seydoux is undeniably heartbreaking as Lucy. In what could have been a dialogue-intensive performance, we watch her devastatingly absorb the accusations and evidence thrown at her, which makes for a characterisation layered in physicality. Seydoux’s facial expressions speak a thousand words, outwardly articulating the internal confusion and conflict she feels towards her husband and what he may have done. It is subtle yet harrowing.
The depth in Seydoux’s performance is made possible by Kreutzer’s meaty screenplay. From the surface-level martial tribulations that come to the more abstract concepts presented about how misogyny is rooted in men’s actions and the way observers perceive them, there is plenty for the audience to chew on. On paper, Kreutzer has a great premise for an original screenplay that challenges societal instincts.
In addition to this, despite the medley of French, German and English woven into the dialogue, the language switching poses no barrier for audiences to fully immerse themselves in the story. It follows the suit of films like Anatomy of a Fall (2023) and All We Imagine as Light (2024) in embracing the multilingual nature of the world. An added complexity to the screenplay that is gratifying to viewers who experience this daily.
Yet, the narrative is also the film’s biggest weakness – feeling simultaneously bloated and lacklustre. Kreutzer attempts to ignite meaningful discussions about motherhood, sacrifice and gender roles, but struggles to go into them thoroughly. In order to keep the slower, rhythmic pace that the story thrives on, whilst not risking it feeling stuffy, the muddled narrative would have worked better as a limited series.
For example, police officer Elsa had the potential to be a deeply nuanced portrayal from Haase, with her dynamic with her father Hermann (Sylvester Groth) breathing hypocrisy into her relationship with Lucy. Unfortunately, we do not sit with the characters for a sufficient time for it to work. In a similar vein, the pockets of piano sequences felt tacked on. Lucy’s supposedly subversive choice to play pop music written exclusively by men wants to provide commentary on gender roles, but simply not explored enough for it to come into fruition. A series would have provided a clearer, less rushed payoff and deeper exploration of supporting characters.
Where the film lacks narrative storytelling strength, it is made up for in the visual storytelling spearheaded by cinematographer Judith Kaufmann. The reveal of what Philip is being questioned for being shown by a push of an elevator button was far more visceral than if we were just told it. It sneaks up on you and attacks you in the gut when you least expect it. This is merely one of countless choices Kaufmann made that powerfully pack a punch.
There is much to admire about Gentle Monster – complex ideas surrounding gender challenged through its characters, beautifully effective visual storytelling and Seydoux’s standout performance. Sadly, the over-inflated, messy narrative leaves you feeling incomplete and unsatisfied as the credits roll.
Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi
Feature Image Courtesy of Frédéric Batier / Film AG via Festival de Cannes