Reviewer: Pierre Badiola
Rated: 12 (UK)
Release Date: 12 August 2011 (UK)
Director: Pierre Salvadori
Cast: Audrey Tautou, Nathalie Baye, Sami Bouajila
Those not familiar with Pierre Salvadori may remember his 2006 comedy Priceless, in which Audrey Tautou starred in a love-spun tale of high-priced escorts and rags-to-riches-to-rags morality. Well, the two are at it again in Beautiful Lies (though the French title; De vrais mensonges, means 'True Lies'), another slice of Gallic romance fluff that unfortunately fails to string together enough charm to animate it’s 105 minute runtime.
The fault doesn’t fall on the cast, who manage to muster enough comic zest to be entertaining, but rather Salvadori’s inability to lock into any sort of comedic rhythm. Scenes are often stretched well beyond their punchline -- in more than one instance characters make a point to exit the frame, only to return moments later for no other reason than to keep the plot-wheels spinning. Inevitable confrontations are sidestepped for inexorable amounts of time. Even the rote use of 'Shot reverse shot' and the 'Two shot' becomes an almost laboriously scripted dance in itself.
Audrey Tautou plays Émilie (yes, just two letters away from Amélie. But wait! There’s more!), a beauty salon proprietor whose short, dark hair and matching monochrome attire reflect her headstrong and slightly unhinged attitude, brought out best by vodka. One day she receives an anonymous love letter to which she promptly throws in the bin, unaware it was sent by the salon’s handyman Jean (Sami Bouajila).
Meanwhile Émilie’s mother (Nathalie Baye) is going through a state of depression brought on by a recent divorce, and is reluctant to leave the house let alone search for a new man. After realising the totality of her mother’s ill mental state, Émilie concocts a plan to forge anonymous love letters (á la Amélie, again) to her as a motivational salve, and uses Jean’s as a starting point.
As the lies spiral out of control, you’d expect Émilie’s moral comeuppance to multiply by the end, yet the screenplay doesn’t call for anything as pointed. Instead the truth, like the comedy, unspools messily and unconvincingly. Salvadori may have gained more if he had given Sami Bouajila more to do than just act incredulous to Émilie’s short-sightedness, and everyone would have gained more from swifter pacing.
It’s a shame given Priceless’ risqué subject matter and high-class allure that there is little of that excitement here --when borderline-edgy content does bubble up, such as when Émilie gets slightly carried away describing her mother’s bosom, the laughs are there-- though there is one shot of the surrounding seaside resort Sète in the South of France near the Mediterranean that almost took my breath away. Must remember to visit that place.
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