This French picture is the kind of small scale, unpretentious slice of life story that no one in the US is interested in making. The title character, Claire (Catherine Fort), is a 49 year old midwife (French sage-femme, literally "wise woman") at maternity a clinic in Mantes-la-Jolie, a town about 30 miles outside of Paris, making about 30,000 per year.
In an earlier age, Claire would have been a nun, and a damn good one. She's a real crunchy granola type – has a tidy apartment in what looks like well kept, racially integrated public housing, bikes to work, doesn't own a car, spends her free time in her garden plot, is vegetarian but not vegan, and doesn't drink. Her only son is a second year med student (no father in evidence) who is about to make a life changing decision.
The long haul truck driver who inherited the neighboring garden plot from his dad is making tentative advances. (His opening move is to offer Claire some seed potatoes, along with an explanation of why they cook up so much better than other spuds.) Claire is content with modest material comfort and using her experience to help other women. Unfortunately, the clinic where she works is going out of business soon, and Claire is repelled by the high-tech, big money modern obstetrics as practiced at the regional hospital.
Into this modest life one day comes Beatrice (Catherine Deneuve). Beatrice is a bimbo emeritus at the end of her road. She's just been diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, and she's looking to get in touch with Claire's father, Antoine, whose mistress she was 40 years ago. Antoine was a world class swimmer in his day, and Beatrice was happily shacked up with him and his daughter in an apartment on the Boulevard St. Germain. Then she left one day, for reasons that are never expressly stated, though it is implied that the money was running out, and she moved on to other men. After she left, Antoine killed himself. The suicide was in all the papers and is now in Wikipedia, but Beatrice had no clue. As she tells Claire, she never read the papers, and the internet is a mystery to her.
Beatrice is pretty much alone in the world, living a cash basis life, supporting herself by a combination of gambling and hocking the jewelry men gave her over the years, and squatting in the apartment of a former lover who went back to Lebanon when the civil war ended. Red meat, red wine, cigarettes and the kindness of strangers have brought her this far, and she sees no reason to change just because she has terminal cancer. But Beatrice is no Blanche duBois. She's tough, she's shrewd, and she's been manipulating people (usually men) with fake helplessness all her life.
Although she blames Beatrice for her father's suicide, Claire finds herself drawn into taking care of her. The experience loosens Claire up a bit but doesn't fundamentally change her. There are some arguments, some confidences are exchanged, but there is no grand reveal and no tearful reconciliation. Claire also finds herself slowly getting involved with the truck driver, a solid, unpretentious guy who loves good food and good wine. It's charming and, since it a French movie, there is an outdoor meal. Beatrice departs, and life goes on. You find yourself getting fully involved in this Frenchwoman's life for two hours.
In an earlier age, Claire would have been a nun, and a damn good one. She's a real crunchy granola type – has a tidy apartment in what looks like well kept, racially integrated public housing, bikes to work, doesn't own a car, spends her free time in her garden plot, is vegetarian but not vegan, and doesn't drink. Her only son is a second year med student (no father in evidence) who is about to make a life changing decision.
The long haul truck driver who inherited the neighboring garden plot from his dad is making tentative advances. (His opening move is to offer Claire some seed potatoes, along with an explanation of why they cook up so much better than other spuds.) Claire is content with modest material comfort and using her experience to help other women. Unfortunately, the clinic where she works is going out of business soon, and Claire is repelled by the high-tech, big money modern obstetrics as practiced at the regional hospital.
Into this modest life one day comes Beatrice (Catherine Deneuve). Beatrice is a bimbo emeritus at the end of her road. She's just been diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, and she's looking to get in touch with Claire's father, Antoine, whose mistress she was 40 years ago. Antoine was a world class swimmer in his day, and Beatrice was happily shacked up with him and his daughter in an apartment on the Boulevard St. Germain. Then she left one day, for reasons that are never expressly stated, though it is implied that the money was running out, and she moved on to other men. After she left, Antoine killed himself. The suicide was in all the papers and is now in Wikipedia, but Beatrice had no clue. As she tells Claire, she never read the papers, and the internet is a mystery to her.
Beatrice is pretty much alone in the world, living a cash basis life, supporting herself by a combination of gambling and hocking the jewelry men gave her over the years, and squatting in the apartment of a former lover who went back to Lebanon when the civil war ended. Red meat, red wine, cigarettes and the kindness of strangers have brought her this far, and she sees no reason to change just because she has terminal cancer. But Beatrice is no Blanche duBois. She's tough, she's shrewd, and she's been manipulating people (usually men) with fake helplessness all her life.
Although she blames Beatrice for her father's suicide, Claire finds herself drawn into taking care of her. The experience loosens Claire up a bit but doesn't fundamentally change her. There are some arguments, some confidences are exchanged, but there is no grand reveal and no tearful reconciliation. Claire also finds herself slowly getting involved with the truck driver, a solid, unpretentious guy who loves good food and good wine. It's charming and, since it a French movie, there is an outdoor meal. Beatrice departs, and life goes on. You find yourself getting fully involved in this Frenchwoman's life for two hours.