It’s no secret that something happens to “old people” to make them disbelieve in such “jejune notions” as “true love.” For, after disappointments and/or abandonments, they become jaded—learn the inevitable lesson that love is nothing more than false propaganda advertised continuously in novels and films. Or, as Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club put it best, everyone comes to find that, “When you grow up, your heart dies.” If you’re lucky/cursed enough to be an artist, however, there remains some glimmer of “childlike” rebellion within that can come out at the most unexpected of moments. For established author Emilie Ducret (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), she still might never have guessed that the eponymous Anaïs (Anaïs Demoustier) in Les Amours d’Anaïs could have such a strong and profound effect on her.
As is the très French way, Anaïs ends up learning about Emilie’s existence because she’s having an affair with the latter’s husband, Daniel Moreau-Babin (Denis Podalydès)—a man who is certain to introduce himself with his full name, whereas Anaïs replies to his introduction with her simple mononym. With writer-director Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet basing the tone and main character somewhat on a short film she made in 2018 called Pauline Asservie (also starring Anaïs Demoustier), the genesis for a more “mature” plot was born—as Les Amours d’Anaïs (or the less sonorous English title: Anaïs in Love). And yet, wanting to maintain the air of comedy that was present in the short film, Bourgeois-Tacquet opted to lean into drôle notes in the first half of the film and segue into something more serious in the second half, additionally taking some of her inspiration from re-watching Claude Sautet’s 1972 film César et Rosalie starring Yves Montand and Romy Schneider (offering a slightly more humorous love triangle than Jules et Jim).
But it wasn’t just the timbre of her short film that gave rise to her first full-length feature. Bourgeois-Tacquet also admitted of the script’s genesis, “It’s sort of a self-fiction, as you would say in French… because a few years ago, I myself met and had a story with a man who was married. He would talk to me about his wife in ways that made me very curious of her, and I felt that she and I had reasons to meet. And from this space of curiosity, I began writing the story of this love triangle in which the man is eventually sidelined in the narrative as the two women that surround him meet.” Which just goes to show that it only takes a kernel of reality to build an entire cinematic universe. And a beautiful one at that—thanks to the Bretagne backdrop of Côtes-d’Armor, in addition to “plain ol’ Paris.”
As an offshoot of Bourgeois-Tacquet’s own personality, Anaïs’ frantic, wayward nature is a key aspect of what drives the frenetic energy at the beginning of the film, which is part of why the comparison to Greta Gerwig is made by many critics—be it the characters she usually plays or the types of movies she writes and directs. The most obvious character of Gerwig’s that Anaïs shares a kinship with is Frances Halladay of Frances Ha. And yes, Frances, too, has a kind of “overly appreciative” fascination with a woman… her best friend, Sophie (Mickey Sumner). What’s more, Frances and Anaïs are both “little urchins” constantly on the run through the streets of their respective cities, with Anaïs only slightly slowing down when she meets Emilie and feels the calming effect of her presence as the rest of the world around her seems to stand still—thesis be damned! And while it is a shared intellectual connection that draws them to one another, this ultimately turns sexual via the requisite Lesbian Sex Scene that puts the porno stylings of Blue Is The Warmest Color to shame (just one of many key differences when a woman directs a sapphic relationship instead of a man).
As for the accusation of Anaïs being “creepy” for pursuing Emilie by non-technologically finding out where she’s going to be for a weekend and choosing to drop everything to go there, well, it’s no different than people doing the same with social media (see: Ingrid Goes West). Indeed, it’s actually more endearing/a testament to how pure her fascination is, in a similar manner to what occurs in Desperately Seeking Susan when Roberta (Rosanna Arquette) follows Susan’s life (Madonna) through the personal ads. Viewing her existence as exciting and even “glamorous,” Roberta relishes having an excuse to go to the city so she can also squeeze in catching a glimpse of Susan meeting Jim (Robert Joy), the boyfriend who communicates with her through said personal ads. Following her through Lower Manhattan (no innuendo intended), Roberta sees Susan going into a thrift store, whereupon she trades her signature pyramid jacket for a pair of rhinestone boots. Roberta is quick to snap up the jacket, finding some personal items in the pocket that make her feel even closer to Susan. Just as Anaïs feels closer when she goes through Emilie’s personal effects at Daniel’s and starts examining her face cream, jewelry and a blue dress we’ll later see Emilie wearing at the symposium.
Where the dynamic between Susan and Roberta stays platonic (though her husband’s sister, Leslie [Laurie Metcalf], insists Roberta’s a lesbian), the one between Anaïs and Emilie quickly turns into something more. In this way, Bourgeois-Tacquet addresses the notion that all true romantic connections are ultimately sparked from sapiosexuality. An attraction to another person’s mind—regardless of gender.
By the same token, the entire time Anaïs has felt essentially “nothing” for any of the men she’s been with (least of all Daniel), it never occurs to her until she meets Emilie that maybe the problem all along was that she never set her sights on a woman before. Being that her character echoes the neurotic and perpetually running Frances Halladay, it’s no wonder Bourgeois-Tacquet describes Anaïs as “constantly on the move, that’s how she deals with life’s difficult moments: if she doesn’t stop she won’t fall. I like how lively, how utterly present she is. She’s got an indomitable quality that resembles that of Catherine Deneuve’s character in Jean-Paul Rappeneau’s Lovers Like Us. Like Catherine Deneuve (and Katharine Hepburn), Anaïs Demoustier has the capacity to deliver lines with breathtaking speed and an innate sense of rhythm.” That rhythm, too, mirrors another iconic French character of cinema whose name starts with an A: Amélie.
While Anaïs may not be nearly as prone to whimsy and magical realism as Amélie, there is something about the two characters that possess a certain parallel. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that Demoustier feels like a “next-generation” Audrey Tautou, who appears to be less and less amenable to showing up onscreen, with the poorly received 2019 film, The Jesus Rolls, marking her last role. Should she choose to stay away (and let’s hope she doesn’t), Demoustier would be more than comfortable to keep stepping in as a gamine substitute. And as her portrayal of Anaïs becomes more vulnerable as the film progresses—and she surrenders herself to the idea of true love—it becomes clear that even Emilie can’t write the romance off as merely another “experience” meant to be “outside of time” (/used for the creative purposes of Emilie’s writing) rather than anything permanent or “real.” Like the “fling” between Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsson, this was so much more than summer lovin’. And Anaïs is determined to make Emilie see that truth (even if it takes pulling a John Cusack move and playing “Bette Davis Eyes” on a boombox outside of Emilie’s window). For love, after all, is truth.
