Cafe de Flore (2012)

Cafe de Flore is an audacious yet occasionally impenetrable romantic drama from French-Canadian director Jean-Marc Valée, best known for his 2005 debut C.R.A.Z.Y. With this, his third feature, Valée presents us with a challenging, bifurcated film that, while not always successful, is a remarkable attempt at something wholly original.

Cafe de Flore tells two superficially unrelated stories: Antoine (Kevin Parent) is a DJ living in modern day Montreal with his two daughters and girlfriend Rose (Evelyne Brochu). Antoine is ostensibly happy yet struggling with his recent decision to leave his wife of 20 years, Carole (Hélène Florent), for the younger Rose. Meanwhile in 1960s Paris, we follow single mother Jacqueline (Vanessa Paradis) as she defiantly tries to raise her Down Syndrome son, Laurent (Marin Gerrier).

Valée drapes his film in an impressionistic blur that at times borders on pretension, like a contrived blend of Terrence Malick and Gaspar Noe, but as he slowly connects – thematically and spiritually – the two stories, Cafe de Flore becomes immensely fascinating. Props, colours, and musical motifs start to bleed between the two stories as the his bold conceit becomes clear. You may not ultimately agree with Valée's big spiritual pay off (it may be interpreted as a mere excuse for a middle-aged man to have an affair) but it's undeniably gripping, creative, and brash cinema.

Technically the movie is marvellous with an assuredly impeccable grasp of visual detail. Pierre Cottereau's photography is florid yet precise, peppering the frame with blink-and-you'll-miss-it details that greatly add to the half-remembered, elusive nature. Vanessa Paradis is also amazing, bringing true joy and sensitivity to her heart-breaking role as mother of the handicapped child.

Cafe de Flore will easily frustrate many viewers with its wilful obtuseness and its unearned, contrived climax, but Jean-Marc Valée has mostly succeeded in making a truly original and modern picture that incorporates music into its texture in truly sophisticated ways. Watching Cafe de Flore often feels like you're flicking through a stranger's photo album while playing a mystery mix-tape. It can be an alienating and hermetic experience at times but the boldness of the enterprise is impossible to ignore.

4/5

Cafe de Flore is an audacious yet occasionally impenetrable romantic drama from French-Canadian director Jean-Marc Valée, best known for his 2005 debut C.R.A.Z.Y. With this, his third feature, Valée presents us with a challenging, bifurcated film that, while not always successful, is a remarkable attempt at something wholly original.

Cafe de Flore tells two superficially unrelated stories: Antoine (Kevin Parent) is a DJ living in modern day Montreal with his two daughters and girlfriend Rose (Evelyne Brochu). Antoine is ostensibly happy yet struggling with his recent decision to leave his wife of 20 years, Carole (Hélène Florent), for the younger Rose. Meanwhile in 1960s Paris, we follow single mother Jacqueline (Vanessa Paradis) as she defiantly tries to raise her Down Syndrome son, Laurent (Marin Gerrier).

Valée drapes his film in an impressionistic blur that at times borders on pretension, like a contrived blend of Terrence Malick and Gaspar Noe, but as he slowly connects – thematically and spiritually – the two stories, Cafe de Flore becomes immensely fascinating. Props, colours, and musical motifs start to bleed between the two stories as the his bold conceit becomes clear. You may not ultimately agree with Valée's big spiritual pay off (it may be interpreted as a mere excuse for a middle-aged man to have an affair) but it's undeniably gripping, creative, and brash cinema.

Technically the movie is marvellous with an assuredly impeccable grasp of visual detail. Pierre Cottereau's photography is florid yet precise, peppering the frame with blink-and-you'll-miss-it details that greatly add to the half-remembered, elusive nature. Vanessa Paradis is also amazing, bringing true joy and sensitivity to her heart-breaking role as mother of the handicapped child.

Cafe de Flore will easily frustrate many viewers with its wilful obtuseness and its unearned, contrived climax, but Jean-Marc Valée has mostly succeeded in making a truly original and modern picture that incorporates music into its texture in truly sophisticated ways. Watching Cafe de Flore often feels like you're flicking through a stranger's photo album while playing a mystery mix-tape. It can be an alienating and hermetic experience at times but the boldness of the enterprise is impossible to ignore.