To the uninitiated, the colourful life of rebellious French novelist, playwright and screenwriter Françoise Sagan would seem compelling, but this melodramatic biopic with its lackluster treatment of a very complex woman is anything but.
Described as a writer “the French and the whole world loved to hate without ever understanding her,” Sagan (La Vie En Rose’s Sylvie Testud who looks uncannily like Sagan) found early fame writing about what she knew, notably the disenchantment of the wealthy bourgeoisie and her own deep sorrow- beginning with her wildly successful novel, the subversive Bonjour Tristesse (Hello Sadness).
Sagan spans fifty years from the writer’s spectacular entry to the literary world to her lonely, impoverished death in 2004. A life where fame collided with infamy and extremes (from literary flattery to the egotistical blow of constant derision) with excess (from a near death car accident to addiction. Later in life she was served cocaine for “dessert”). Sagan with her charisma, intelligence, wealth and fame was a magnet for men and women alike. She had a string of lovers (most notably the fashion designer Peggy Roche, here played by Jeanne Balibar (Code 46) and a coterie of hangers-on and lifelong friends, including the writer Bernard Frank (Lionel Abelanski, The Concert) who both calmed and stirred her insecurities.
The moody, pixie-like Sagan as depicted here was defined by contrasts; generous yet deeply selfish, lusting for life yet melancholy, intelligent yet reckless. Unfortunately, it’s the uglier character traits that remain with you, making Sagan an unappetising subject as a viewer. At least the film can’t be accused of shameless hagiography.
What is engaging, to a point, are Sagan’s frank, well versed ruminations on love, money, friendship and writing amongst other questions of existence. Still, she’s so painfully self absorbed and spoilt that it becomes tedious to endure. Her admission that “My soul searching bores even me” is ironically, very apt.
Not helping matters is the uneven direction from Diane Kurys (L’Anniversaire) and the culling of the film from a three hour miniseries to a two hour feature. It’s potted with gaping holes skimming over Sagan’s sizeable literary output and some significant moments in her life – at one point she’s pregnant, married, divorced and shacked up with her toddler, ex husband and his gay lover all in rapid succession. Meanwhile, her apparent sexually adventurous nature is bizarrely ignored and humorous moments are drowned out by the endless stream of sorrow (save for a scene involving a cocaine licking canine).
If Sagan is an underappreciated literary icon as the filmmakers imply, they’ve failed to restore her memory any glory with this underwhelming, uninspiring portrait.
Sagan opened with a limited national release in Australia on the 7th of October.
Director: Diane Kurys.
Cast: Sylvie Testud, Jeanne Balibar, Pierre Palmade, Denis Podalydes, Guillaume Gallienne, Arielle Dombasle, Lionel Abelanski.
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