Eric Rohmer's Top 10 Pictures
By Joe Boden
14th January 2010

I hope that you will have already read my testament to the life and work of Eric Rohmer, which you can find here. It’s more of an overlook of his career, and I unfortunately did not have the room to discuss the movies that I wanted to discuss at any great length. So, I decided to put together this little list, which includes a ranked list of my top ten favourite Rohmer productions, and the mini-reviews that you can find under the ‘Reviews’ section of this very website. I hope you enjoy, and agree with the choices. That being said, Rohmer is hardly a director that will be divisive; if you like one, chances are you’ll like most of them, and if they aren’t included in this particular list it can only mean that I only really like them, rather than love them

10. The Bakery Girl of Monceau (1963)
“The Girl at the Monceau Bakery” is the first in Eric Rohmer’s series of six moral tales. A short film of around twenty five minutes, the plot sees an unnamed young man (Barbet Schroeder) fall in love with a girl he constantly passes on the street, named Sylvie (Michele Girardon). He approaches her, and makes first contact, but doesn’t see her again for a few weeks. In that time, he begins to court the girl who works at the Monceau bakery, Jacqueline (Claudine Soubrier). But, when Sylvie re-appears and he arranges dates with both of them on the same day, he has to make a moral decision. This is the moral tales series taken down to its bare minimum, where characterization is at a bare minimum. I guess that’s the only real problem with this short film. There’s no depth of character here, and although Rohmer does his best, there’s only so far you can take a character in twenty minutes. But apart from that, this is a neat little story with a good moral conundrum at its climax. Rohmer directs well considering it’s one of his first films, and you can see his naturalistic style beginning to come into play. The dialogue, as you’d expect, is superb, particularly between the anonymous narrator and Jacqueline, the bakery girl. The performances are solid, with Soubrier excelling as the sweet but naïve bakery worker. The theme running threw it is of the fickleness of love, and how infidelity can lead to moral ambiguity. Whether this is better than “Suzanne’s Career”, the other short film in the moral tales series made in the same year (and the easiest comparison point), is questionable. They are both well paced, chirpy, and punchy with their point, leading them to being the two easiest Rohmer films to take in.

9. Triple Agent (2004)
“Triple Agent”, one of Rohmer’s best 21st century films, tells the story of Fiodor (Serge Renko), who works for a right wing political party, and his wife, Arsinoe (Katerina Didaskalou), who supports him without ever knowing what exactly he’s doing. Although the film has a very politically charged storyline, and though most of the characters do talk their fair share of politics, the film is more about the marriage of Fiodor and Arsinoe Vorin than about elections and parties. The politics simply acts as the thing that comes between the couple, like an affair or a lie would in any other film. When I heard that Rohmer had made this political espionage thriller, I didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it’s safe to say that – whilst certainly satisfying its title as an espionage spy film – it’s made in a very Rohmer-esque way. The events occur slowly, or at least slower than they would in a Hollywood spy film, and the characters of the film debate these happenings to great (and, unfortunately, sometimes excessive) lengths. It also satirizes the upper classes of old, and notes how indulgent they are when it comes to making a dress or decorating their houses. Because of these factors which are – mostly – positive, the film does feel ultimately Rohmer-esque, but does so by way of Melville (in terms of the spy thriller factor), Godard (the political murmurings), and even Renoir (the satire on high society), which makes this little wordy film into a must-see for any French film enthusiast. It may not be up there with Rohmer’s very best, but it’s miles better than the other Rohmer period piece (albeit a different period) in “Die Marquise of O”, and a film that any Rohmer aficionado should check out.

8. Signe du Leon (1959)
Pierre (Jess Hahn) believes that he has just inherited a large sum of money from a recently deceased rich Aunt. Or so, he thinks he has. Upon hearing the news, he throws a huge party before beginning to wrack up huge debts, only to learn that the money isn’t necessarily coming his way. Whilst he used to sponge of his friends to live, he now has nowhere to eat and sleep, and no friends to ask for help. “Le Signe du Lion” is a film filled with silent disheartenment and melancholy, and a thoroughly depressing one. It teaches virtues about living within your means, the importance of friends and standing on your own two feet, but is also a fine character study. Pierre is a man who is quite content to live a menial life, borrowing from friends to get by and with no real future prospects. It’s only when money is introduced that he begins to flounder, its allure causing him to spin of the rails. The film is quite black and white in its ideology; when Pierre is around people, he is stable and happy. When he is alone, he is not. Much of the final stretches of the film are spent watching Pierre wander the streets of Paris, alone, descended further and further into hunger and poverty. It’s worth nothing that Rohmer is a master of words, and many of his later films were great because of their presentation of naturalistic conversation. Here, the writer-director uses dialogue sparingly, instead letting Hahn’s skulking performance tell the story. And it works wonders, because “le Signe du Lion” is an intriguing, engrossing, and emotive film that marked Rohmer out as one of the best directors in Europe, even if the critics didn’t notice it until “My Night With Maud”, his breakthrough film released a full decade later.

7. My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend (1987)
Blanche (Emmanuelle Chaulet), a young clerk, meets and subsequently befriends Lea (Sophie Renoir). Lea’s boyfriend, Fabien (Eric Viellard), has a friend named Alexandre (Francois-Eric Gendron), who Blanche has fallen in love with. The problem is, Alexandre is dating Adrienne (Anne-Laure Meury), and there’s nothing Blanche can do about it. “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend” is a very good film, and although it’s not up there with Rohmer’s very best it’s certainly well worth a watch for a plethora of reasons. The first is its realistic relationships. In the current filmic climate, where romantic comedies are ten a dousing in Hollywood, it’s really quite refreshing to see a film where the love story just feels so realistic and vivid. It’s also nice that all five people in this love pentagon are genuinely nice. One too many romance films make at least one of the parties a disgusting person, just so the audience doesn’t feel guilty in siding with the protagonists. Here, Rohmer allows all five parties to remain dignified and pleasant to one another, which makes Blanche’s predicament all the more frustrating for her and for us. The second reason is the fine performance of Emmanuelle Chaulet, who manages to pull off this performance as a character where most of the emotion and turmoil is internalized. She can’t really show much off without falling into melodramatic territory, so instead she resorts to a melancholic, down-trodden, yet brave character who isn’t going to give up in a hurry. The third, and perhaps most impressive reason, is that this is Rohmer’s most impressive film when it comes to showing off the difference between the sexes. That’s always given as his key attribute, and here it’s at its most potent, with Blanche, Lea and Adrienne placing emphasis on monogamy, showing a quiet reserve and an internalized struggle. The men, Fabien and Alexandre, are more flamboyant, insecure, and external, like giant peacocks plucking their tail feathers. This may fall short because of a contrived ending and minor pacing problems, but it’s still a pleasant, gentile and well-judged film from the master of social observation.

6. Claire’s Knee (1970)
“Claire’s Knee”, the fifth of Eric Rohmer’s Six Moral Tales Story, stare Jean-Claude Briarly as Jerome, a diplomat on holiday in the south of France. He meets an old friend, Aurora (Aurora Cornu), who dares him to flirt with his landlady’s young daughter, Laura (Beatrice Romand), but when he meets her half-sister, Claire (Laurence de Monoghan), he gains an unquenchable desire to caress her knee. “Claire’s Knee” is quite a strange story, but one that his told with the utmost realism from a director who knows how to ground stories in the real world. It’s a film about love as a concept, and how it can mean so much to different people. In an earlier film from Rohmer in the same series, “the Collector”, he included a short scene where the characters discuss whether love occurs straight away or in time, and whether attractiveness is determined by love and love alone. Here, he extends that scene to a whole film, discussing whether love at first sight exists, and if it does whether it does for everyone. It’s a very complex film that handles its subject well, and throws up some more-than-ambiguous results. Jerome is a man who believes that love must stem from friendship, but has his own ideology questioned in the film. Laura is a girl he enjoys talking to, and who he would consider a friend, but who he has no romantic spark with whatsoever. Claire, on the other hand, is someone who he has spoken little to, and who he finds it hard to construct a conversation with, but someone who he lusts over and could even grow to love. Rohmer’s point is quite clear; love is an unknown concept, and something that can be defined even by those who have found it. As a part of Rohmer’s six moral tales series, the plot follows the same basic premise; a man resists temptation to enter a second romantic involvement because of loyalties to another woman. Here, the woman who Jerome is involved with isn’t even part of the film, which gives it an extra dimension. The temptation is even more tangible than in any of the four films released prior, but would be surpassed by the best of the series, “Love in the Afternoon”, released two years afterwards.

5. The Green Ray (1986)
“The Green Ray” tells the story of Delphine (Marie Riviere), a young lady disillusioned with her mundane life. She feels empty and bored, and wonders whether there’s a better existence to be had somewhere else. So, she decides to go on holiday and search for love, fun times, and fulfilment. This film, the fifth in Rohmer’s brilliant “Comedies and Proverbs” series, was recently called Rohmer’s most boring film by Sight and Sound, a completely preposterous statement. “The Green Ray” is one of the most life-affirming and engrossing films that have ever been made, and that’s because of its complete reliance on characters. The story lives and dies with Delphine, a character who we can all identity with. We’ve all been bored with our nine to five, day to day lives, and have dreamed of a place where the grass is greener. Of course, this isn’t always the case, and the film strives to show that somebody else’s existence is probably going to be just as mediocre as yours. You may thing that’s depressing, but the way Rohmer goes about his film means that “the Green Ray” is a much more gentile film than the premise would suggest. The great director intersperses the stretches of mundane experiences with the odd moment of hope, and that’s exactly the point. The moments of fulfilment and genuine excitement cannot be forced, as the film’s proverb (“ah, for the days, that set our hearts ablaze”) attests, and must be allowed to come naturally. Therefore, it’s obvious that the presence of the green ray – a warm ray of sunset that glows green – is a metaphor. Experienced once every now and again, and almost completely at random, the moments that make life great – like meeting a stranger’s glance and feeling the spark – will come along if we just wait for them.

4. My Night With Maud (1969)
Jean-Louis (Jean-Louis Trintignant) sees the girl of his dreams at church. Although he’s prepared to go against his principles when it comes to love, he’s generally a devout catholic. However, when he meets up with an old friend named Vidal (Antoine Vitez), he is introduced to a confident, flirtatious, and seductive divorcee named Maud (Francois Fabien). They spend the night together, threatening to ruin Jean-Louis’s budding romance with church-goer Francoise (Marie-Christine Barrault) before it’s even begun. “My Night with Maud” is considered Eric Rohmer’s breakthrough picture, although he had already made two minor classics in “Suzanne’s Career” and “Signe du Lion” in the previous ten years, and you can really see why. This is Rohmer’s best film of the 1960s, and it really serves as the bridging movie between films like “Signe du Lion” (where emotion and characterization is drawn up via silence and facial expressions) and his 1970s work like “Love in the Afternoon” (where it’s done through dialogue). Here, we get the best of both worlds, with Rohmer creating a beautifully drawn character in Jean-Louis thanks to dialogue – we learn he hates Pascal, that he’s a spiritual person, and that finding love is very important to him – and to emotive facial work. I’ve said time and time again that Rohmer’s key skill is naturalistic discussions, and that’s just as much the case here as it is anywhere else, but he is also the master of silences. The key to these long discussions, and to learning about his characters, is the silences. Which questions they need to pause before answering, and which questions they can answer straight away because they’ve thought about it before. Rohmer is special because there isn’t a single second in his films that hasn’t been thought about, mulled over, and designed to create a certain effect. “My Night With Maud” is another Rohmer classic.

3. Full Moon in Paris (1984)
Louise (Pascale Ogier) recently finished her studies in art. Now, she is living with her burly, rugged, but socially inept boyfriend, Remi (Thecky Karyo). But her friend, Octave (Fabrice Luchini), who is her cup of tea personality-wise, constantly attempts to seduce her and lure her away from her boyfriend. “Full Moon in Paris”, one of Rohmer’s brilliant series of six films entitled “the Comedies and Proverbs”, is centred around the proverb; “he who has two women loses his soul, he who has two houses loses her mind”. But really, this proverb only serves as the very basis of the story, because what “Full Moon in Paris” actually is, is a finely crafted, naturalistic story of love, choice, and compromise. It’s not Rohmer’s best film, but it’s pretty damn near to it. The director is beck to his usual tricks, displaying the difference between the two sexes and allowing long, uninterrupted, realistic conversations to take place on-screen. It’s a wonderful trick; because allowing the actors to just get on with it makes the whole thing feel much more fluid and natural. Rohmer films could easily serve as docudramas, because they just feel real. It’s almost like you’re spying on an actual relationship developing between real people, and the un-Hollywood nature of this film is what allows that. The main theme is compromise, and how much you should do so when it comes to love. Louise, brilliantly played by Pascale Ogier, must choose what is most important to her. Remi, who she loves, is physically attractive and pleasant. Octave, who she also likes very much, is funny, out-going, philosophical, and equally pleasant. The true star here is Fabrice Luchini, who plays a somewhat smarmy, somewhat charming role as a man who is blinded by unconditional lust/love.

2. Pauline at the Beach (1983)
Marion (Arielle Dombasle) is about to divorce from her husband, so she decides it’s time for a little holiday. Taking her 15-year-old niece, Pauline (Amanda Langlet), with her, she heads to the beach. There, they meet a few men, Henri (Feodor Atkine), Pierre (Pascal Greggory), and Sylvain (Simon de La Brosse), all of whom show an interest to one (or both) of the girls. Another one of Rohmer’s “Comedies and Proverbs”, this film centres on romance, with some light erotica thrown in there for good measure. It’s Rohmer’s “steamiest” film, but it doesn’t lack on the mentally-stimulating side of things either. Like most of his films, it’s restrained and real, letting the characters live and grow naturally on screen rather than forcing them to. It’s also surprisingly nihilistic and minimalist. And it’s strange that it is so, because a lot more happens here than in many other Rohmer’s films, but the fact that it opens and closes on the same image is pretty damning of holiday relationships and relationships in general. Although all of these things have happened, for good or for bad, it hasn’t really had much of an effect on the world or, really, the girls. The doors of the cottage where they are staying slam shut, ready for the next set of people to move in, do some things, meet some people, and then go home again. It’s commenting on the repetitive nature of life and of the shallowness of humanity. It could be depressing or downbeat, but it’s strangely life-affirming. It may be pointing out how repetitive and pointless life is, but rather than condemning it it’s applauding it. There are no pretensions here; life is what it is, and shouldn’t really be taken too seriously.

1. Chloe in the Afternoon (1972)
Frederic (Bernard Verley) lives a dull, picture postcard life. He is contently married to Helene (Francoise Verley), and is successful in his line of work. However, when Chloe (Zouzou), a flirtatious and seductive ex-mistress of a friend, comes into his life and begins to meet irregularly with him, he’s faced with a tough moral dilemma. Give in to his lust, like he wants to, or remain faithful to his pregnant wife. My personal favourite Rohmer film is this ’72 film, which – like most of his early résumé – is really a moral question surrounded by characters and plot. At the crux of the film is the dilemma outlined earlier; lust or love? Primal inhabitations or social convention? Frederic wants both world but, obviously, can not get his way. I find the majority of dramas about adultery to be ridiculous, because they always unsuccessfully try to convince both the audience and themselves that this act of betrayal is morally acceptable, when – of course – it isn’t. “L’Amour L’Apres-midi”, however, does not do this. Rohmer’s film recognizes that Frederic’s potential betrayal would be devastating to several lives, but instead of focusing on that fallout, it decides to hone in on the internal struggle. Knowing the difference between right and wrong is one thing, but still choosing the right option when the wrong one seems alluring and – in theory – harmless is another entirely. Rohmer is masterful in the director’s chair, allowing realistic bonds between the realist characters to be built thanks to his simplistic yet naturalistic direction. He lets conversations play out in front of us, not breaking them up with unnecessary cuts or close-ups. He knows how to reflect life onto the screen, how to orchestrate relationships, and how to clearly display the difference between the sexes… and he gives us all of his greatest gifts in this one, brilliant film.

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