Constance Debré’s scandalous novel about a woman’s fight for custody of her son is brought to the big screen in Anna Cazenave Cambet’s beautifully heartfelt adaptation, stylish in aesthetic and heavy in subject. Vicki Krieps plays Clémence, a stand-in for Debré, who one day leaves the apartment she shares with her husband and son, quits her job as a reputable criminal lawyer and begins to write novels and sleep with women. The aftermath is devastating – at first supportive and amicable, her husband retaliates by preventing her from seeing their son and accusing her of paedophilia and incest, kicking off a lengthy battle for custody. Autobiographical in nature, Love Me Tender is Debré’s own story, and one that shook France when it was first released for its honest portrayal of the sacrifices of motherhood and quest for the self. Cazenave Cambet is loyal to the source material, doing it beautiful justice as Clémence navigates this new life, rediscovering her voice along the way.
Krieps is stellar casting for this lead role, a quiet, reserved woman with a great deal of underlying mental strength. The injustice she faces at the hands of her ex-husband and the law are positively skin-crawling, even more so when friends and government workers are rallied around her to the point of breaking protocol. The bureaucracy is tantalisingly frustrating – she cannot book an appointment to see her son until a meeting with her ex-husband has taken place, for instance, which he takes great pleasure in dragging out. Still, Clémence does not give up, though it is a year and a half before she is able to see her son Paul (a devastating performance from Viggo Ferreira-Redier) under supervision.
Yet it becomes clear that she fights not only for him, but for herself – though gentle and calm, her voiceover inspires a certain unyielding drive, an adamance that she will pull through, and a desire to explore this new self that has emerged. As such, Clémence maintains old and develops new relationships, be it with her young roommate or the many women that come and go in her life. She devotes much of her time to writing, cycling through Paris, and swimming at the local pool, an activity it becomes clear is more meditation than exercise. A certain feeling of selfishness bubbles up – but this is exactly what Love Me Tender seeks to question. First and foremost an ode to motherhood, it is also a deep reflection on the boundaries a woman must set for herself, even when concerning her child. A person cannot live without something to sustain the battle. And so we watch Clémence grow into this new self, separate from Paul but still very much intertwined with his memory. There is no doubt of course that the strongest sequences are those we have longed for alongside her – that is, reunions with her son. Krieps and Ferreira-Redier make one here, embracing each other while two assistants look on, as moved to tears as we are – it could go on and on without the slightest hint of boredom. There are no need for words here, or for a breakdown of emotions felt. Love Me Tender is indeed a quiet film – quiet, but with a very loud voice.
Love Me Tender screened at the London Film Festival.
