by Christine Westwood
Worth: $15.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Laure Calamy, Vincent Elbaz, Suzanne De Baecque
Intro:
It is Calamy, of course, who holds the film. She is literally in every frame and her performance is emotionally generous, skilled and compelling.
By creating the character of Iris as a highly successful woman in all areas of her life, writer director Caroline Vignal (Antoinette in the Cévennes) puts forward a clear proposition in Iris and the Men – a woman is entitled to a satisfying sex life, even if she is turning fifty.
Iris is played by the funny and vivacious Laure Calamy. We quickly discover that Iris’s situation is idyllic, on the surface. Her partner loves her, they have two smart, happy daughters, their apartment is lovely, their friends are great. She even has a successful dental practice. What more do you want, Iris? Sex, yes, but even more, she wants intimacy, fun, attention, exploration. Certainly, more than she is getting with her withdrawn, habit-bound and workaholic husband Stephane (Vincente Elbaz). He has so little interest in her that when she joins a dating site, she can busily text prospective dates while propped up next to him in bed.
Vignal summarises it beautifully in her director’s notes for the film: “Iris and the Men can be read as a manifesto in favour of desire and encounters; a deliberate, knowingly optimistic story, to overcome the fear, laziness, caution, and inertia that sometimes keep us cloistered, in a private space where we suffocate.”
Inspired by teen drama series Euphoria, Vignal puts the chat dialogue on screen as the fluent and exciting currency that leads Iris on with curiosity to explore herself through intimate encounters with men. Even when she encounters a potential stalker and an S&M aficionado, she is never a victim, always able to respond and draw her own rules and boundaries.
The topical issue of consent is showcased in one of the movie’s best scenes, an informal dinner party with friends, where Iris makes the impassioned statement, “I think we also have to learn to say yes.”
The style of the film, as shot by Martin Roux (The Innocents) and art directed by Stephanie Laurent Delarue, is appropriately sensual, with some gorgeous rich touches in the colour palette. There is a nod to Almodovar, underlined by a subtle mention of his films.
The sexual encounters are playful and widely varied, with a terrific emphasis on the people involved being just that – people. The men are ordinary human beings in all shapes and sizes, mostly middle aged like Iris herself. Perhaps nobody does sex on film as naturally as the French. The theme of intimate physicality is introduced right from the start, with Iris’s up close and personal treatment from her osteopath, and Iris’s own dental patients, mouths agape, in the consulting chair.
The supporting cast of Iris’s one night stands all do nice work, while Elbaz plays husband Stephane with convincing depth in a character arc complimenting Iris’s own. Iris’s long- suffering assistant Nuria (Suzanne De Baecque) is also excellent as foil to her boss’s unravelling chaos.
It is Calamy, of course, who holds the film. She is literally in every frame and her performance is emotionally generous, skilled and compelling. Her character walks a fine line between ingenue and mature woman, but she makes the pursuit of the life force she lost totally credible, and a lot of fun.
You won’t find moral judgement here. Like Séverine, played by Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour, cited by Vignal as an important inspiration, “Iris obeys a desire that exceeds her. She never feels guilty; she only benefits from her adventures.”