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Amélie No More: Audrey Tautou’s Fatal Attraction in French Psycho-Thriller ‘He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not’

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Audrey Tautou thriller

One tagline for He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not (À la folie… pas du tout) reads: “Is she crazy in love, or just crazy?” In what appears to be a standard film d’amour, Audrey Tautou’s character Angélique is a woman in love with love. She has been swept up in a whirlwind romance like no other. The longer the story goes on though, it becomes very clear something is amiss. Beyond the honeymoon stage lies a disturbing reality about Angélique’s infatuation.

Lætitia Colombani’s 2002 film opens with its enamored protagonist sending her sweetheart a token of her affection; an early birthday present consisting of a single rose and a love note. Angélique’s sunny disposition endures as she wins an art scholarship at school, which requires her to complete a series of paintings over the summer. Good news indeed, but Angélique’s main concern right now is only making her new beau happy.

Angélique’s bliss comes with certain caveats, including the fact that her sweetheart is actually married with a baby on the way. Best friend Héloïse (Sophie Guillemin) tries to convince Angélique to move on if a child is involved, but Audrey Tautou’s character is resolute. Just as things begin to fall apart in quick succession, Angélique is convinced she can make this relationship work. Even if that means sacrificing everything — and everyone — to get what she wants.

Going into the film with no notion of things to come is ideal, but spoilers are unavoidable when approaching such a tangled story. The sinister truth trickles out as Angélique starts to spiral. As utterly heartbroken as she is, Angélique evades wallowing in favor of removing the physical obstacles in her way. A damaged scooter, a bloody elbow, a bump on the head; all these events raise suspicions about the lengths Angélique will go to to stay in love.

By changing the point of view partway through, Colombani’s film promptly goes from romantic to frightening. Now the audience sees the story from the perspective of the suitor. Or as it turns out, the victim. Dr. Loïc Le Garrec (Samuel Le Bihan) receives a single rose with an anonymous note: “My heart is forever yours.” He assumes the gift is from his wife Rachel (Isabelle Carré), but he later realizes he has a secret admirer. Loïc suspects one of his patients, namely a woman always eager to get her top off so the doctor can examine her. He fails to consider Audrey Tautou’s Angélique though, the woman staying at his neighbor’s house while they are away on vacation.

He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not is a great example of the unreliable narrator. The protagonist’s credibility comes into question as the story unfolds. The audience has no reason to doubt Angélique’s intentions from the first moment they meet her. Not a sign of villainy is in sight early on as she pursues love in every corner of her life; be it art or with Loïc. At first Colombani presents Angélique’s viewpoint with the same sort of enthusiasm and charm so prevalent in starry-eyed romance stories. She masks the uncomfortable actuality with passionate colors, affectionate music, and contagious sentimentality. By the thirty-minute mark, everything changes when a trip to Florence falls through. The catching euphoria from earlier is now replaced with dangerous obsession.

Regarding the plot turn, Colombani and co-writer Caroline Thivel do not pull the rug out from viewers so much as they make small tugs along the way. Even before shifting to Loïc’s outlook, it is increasingly clear Angélique’s adoration is unhealthy and at many times volatile. She has already confessed to one misdeed while another is all but confirmed until Loïc’s half of the story comes into view. This is when He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not unquestionably falls into erotomania territory.

Like almost anything else adapted for the screen, erotomania is exaggerated for effect. Also known as de Clérambault’s Syndrome or psychose passionnelle, erotomania is a starting point for psychosexual thrillers like Play Misty for Me, Fatal Attraction, and The Crush. In the grand scheme, these films do more harm than good when discussing this condition. They play up the sexual and violent elements for amusement and shock value while glossing over the psychology.

Meanwhile, He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not is generally regarded as a more accurate depiction of erotomania. Like many textbook cases, youth and sexual inexperience impel someone like Angélique toward Loïc, an older man whose class and unavailability are never seen as hindrances. In addition, Angélique’s fixation is fueled by either benign interactions or her imagination. Whatever little contact the parties do have is then misread as declarations of love. 

Erotomania films often hide the patient’s pathos beneath layers of blackmail, sex, and stalking. The object of obsession is usually preyed on after a regretful tryst, then alienated through whatever means necessary. Their closest friends and family are systematically attacked, or their lives are blown up. Whereas with Angélique, she never premeditates or acts maliciously despite her committing heinous acts against Loïc’s wife and anyone else standing in her way. She tends to react in the moment under the belief that everything she is doing is for Loïc and their future together. Angélique’s behavior ultimately comes across as unnervingly authentic and not something drummed up only for the audience’s perverse pleasure.

Colombani’s film is a plausible romantic-thriller that never resists the urge to entertain. A dark and unpredictable energy flows throughout and keeps viewers fully plugged in long after the big reveal. On top of that, Audrey Tautou gets scarily lost in a role that casual fans might not have expected from her. He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not boldly dances on that fine line between creepy and sad, while also being a devilish twist on the old phrase, there are two sides to every story.


Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.

Paul Lê is a Texas-based, Tomato approved critic at Bloody Disgusting, Dread Central, and Tales from the Paulside.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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