L’Heure d’été

Will Juliette Binoche ever age?

Will the French ever stop making high quality movies for smart adults?

Will huge, crumbling houses in the country, just a train ride from Paris, ever lose their romance and appeal?

Will etudes on loss, old age, families moving on, stuff moving on, everything moving on ever cease to be interesting?

And why does the IFC theatre in Greenwich Village smell like a mixture of mops and body odor?

(Plus—Charles Berling, will you always be this handsome?)

Look, L’Heure d’été (Summer Hours) was sad, beautiful, you name it. A simple story. Mom dies and the grown kids split the stuff up. It’s complicated, though, to handle the emotions of the experience. The oldest, as always, gets stuck with all the hard work. The other two siblings don’t even live in France any longer. They just come back to do what they have to do. Busy lives. Truly Western people living in the great big world, dealing with transition.

Loved it. But then, I am patient and love a movie about relationships, especially if the movie is shot well and takes place in an ideal setting.

Sure, these people do not have any REAL problems. But that means we can look at tiny realities and come away with great clarity. And of course, it is so about the former housekeeper. She reminded me of my grandmother.

Catch it. Renting it would be fine, too.