Review of Odette Toulemonde

French cinema distinguishes itself, and let's admit, sometimes annoys because of excessive intellectualism and philosophical commitment, but often stands out for products like Odette Toulemonde, having no pretence of intellectualism, but being just enjoyable, naif, and truly lovely. The overall atmosphere is one of being out of reality (although some prosaic hints are to be found, for example in the difficulty of a single-mother to raise her children, in a context of material difficulties), of having one's head in the clouds, never wanting to come down to the earth, of living in a kind of space-time suspension, pervaded by the, maybe, too easily optimistic trust that everything will work out, in the end.

To be honest, some interesting messages are not to be understated: don't take yourself too seriously, happiness will come when you really believe in it and are ready to accept it, it is your attitude to life that makes things good or bad, and not vice versa. Not to mention that irrational miracle which is reading, that sound and deep communion created by the writer between the reader and the fiction, capable of shifting us away from reality and moving us to another, unreal but more emotionally authentic world.

But what really gets the viewer is the delicate and odd character of Odette, naif but intelligent enough to understand that life is a miracle to be tasted and enjoyed and that there's no point in persisting in feeling pessimistic: just smile and life will smile at you.