(Written by Intern, Miranda Zampogna)
Adapting Françoise Sagan’s classic novel, writer-director Durga Chew-Bose jets to the French Riviera, where the summer heat splendidly melts time. This coming-of-age story, best savored on a lazy afternoon, stirs hazy impulses when an unexpected guest disrupts eighteen-year-old Cécile’s idyllic getaway with her father and new flame. A keen eye captures the scenic locale’s beauty, yet this postcard-perfect ambiance belies a theme of juvenile depravity that just softly peaks in its final moments. While Bonjour Tristesse captivates with a richly atmospheric experience, thematic undercurrents feel as gentle and ultimately as fleeting as the receding tide.
A languid, summery mood immediately engulfs viewers, as an acoustic guitar strums and turquoise waves lap a tanned coast. Easily swayed as a sea breeze, Cécile (Lily McInerny), an American college student studying in Paris, embraces the nonchalance of summer break in the Mediterranean. Her days are a sun-drenched montage of scenic beaches and carefree boat rides with her French beau, Cyril (Aliocha Schneider). Sharing these blithe interludes is her charming father, Raymond (Claes Bang), who playfully dubs his daughter an accomplice, hinting at their mischievous inclinations. Currently undergoing a mid-life crisis, his newest girlfriend, Elsa (Nailia Harzoune), is a professional dancer who Cécile imitates. Their vacation house acts as a haven of easy laughter and spontaneous dance, evoking a youthful abandon that quickly ripples after the sudden arrival of Anne (Chloë Sevigny), the prim couturier and friend of Cécile’s late mother.
This visual poem of adolescence unfolds in a palette of baby blues, sandy beiges, and soft pinks, each frame as carefully composed as Cécile’s collection of seashells. Breathtaking backdrops of rocky shores and the endless azure sea frequently encompass the characters, as a deliberately unhurried pace encourages observation of their daily routines. Underscoring a sense of bliss, a late-50s instrumental flute echoing the original film adaptation, and a nostalgic soundtrack create a liminal vacation-like sensation. Embracing classic French realism through a generous depth of field invites a wandering eye. Then, like flipping through pages of a glossy magazine, numerous cutaways and inserts showcase the stylized mise-en-scène. One might ponder if the picturesque allure overshadows substance or seems too self-important, while reminiscent of Call Me By Your Name’s aesthetic. However, the pleasing visuals and total immersion wash away any narrative debris that Anne’s lukewarm arrival surfaces.
At the start, the dynamic between Anne, Cécile, and Elsa is immediately chilly. Anne’s judgment of the free-spirited dancer and her disapproval of Cécile’s freewheeling attitude towards boys and school are apparent. She embodies conventionality, a stark contrast to Elsa’s spontaneity, creating a push-and-pull dynamic with Raymond, who grants his daughter more freedom. Yet, a shadow of doubt questions the identity of the true aggressor. Gossiped about as if she were an enigma, Anne also illuminates the others’ errant biases and inability to grasp responsibility. Dialogue is rich with judgments, while the camera and characters’ words meticulously dissect the nuances of their behaviors. Even so, the build-up of Anne’s arrival feels more significant than her actual entrance, harbinging an anticlimactic tameness. Continuing to pervade, the easygoing tone and pace diffuse all tension.
Soon after, Elsa departs on a brief trip, leaving a void that allows eclipsed desires to emerge. A late-stage central conflict solidifies when Cécile witnesses Anne and Raymond cuddling in a car outside a party. This revelation of their ongoing fling does not hang heavy in the humid night air. Rather, their ensuing proposal tepidly seeps out. With Anne’s impending role as her stepmother, Cécile feels pressured to conform to her expectations—to study diligently and distance herself from Cyril. Despite a lack of narrative evidence outlining his discontent with Anne, she perceives her father as having been happier with his ex. This prompts Cécile to sabotage their impending marriage by orchestrating Elsa’s return.
Not until the midpoint does Cécile finally act on her impulses. She enlists Cyril in her scheme, asking him to feign intimacy with Elsa and foster Raymond’s jealousy. As the plan unfolds, however, Cécile’s internal conflict intensifies as she begins reconciling with Anne and feels she’s acted cruelly. Infidelity swirls toward a dramatic departure in a contrived climax. Cécile makes the desperate plea, “we need you,” yet a genuine sense of dependence on Anne is never established. Her arc of realization lacks the poetic resonance otherwise imbued throughout. This final reflection, “everything will feel cruel for a long time,” feels detached as the prevailing impression is one of idle beauty, never truly venturing upon amorality. Possibly a deeper dive into Cécile’s mother’s death and underlying mother-daughter dynamics would have streamlined the third act. Instead, the subtextual idea that an absence of a nurturing figure causes brutality becomes a nebulous cloud that never clears up. Later, she and Raymond leave the vacation home and return to Paris, where a final scene depicts Cécile isolating herself at a college party, leaving the possibility of her personal growth ambiguous.
Ultimately, Bonjour Tristesse offers a visually intoxicating, if somewhat touristy, escape. While Chew-Bose masterfully sets a fresh, leisurely cadence, it directly contrasts with interesting themes of moral ambiguity and undercuts the ending’s sense of consequence. For fans of Sevigny, her cool elegance and sizeable role sufficiently invigorates. Barely leaving a tan, this summery coming-of-age drama is still a recommended matinee viewing for those who enjoy being swept away by arresting cinematography and a tranquil milieu.
Start your summer by vacationing on the French coast, as Bonjour Tristesse embarks Friday, May 2nd.
