Lucas (Jacques Dutronc) is a software designer who has received a piece of bad news: although the doctors aren't one hundred percent sure of what it is, he is definitely suffering from a brain condition that is eating away at his mind, leaving him with a dwindling vocabulary. How ironic that on the same day he hears about this, his agent tells him that his new programming language, one he has devised, has been sold around the world and will revolutionise computer communication. Lucas understandably has mixed feelings after all that, so goes to a restaurant to get a drink, and while he's there he gets talking to a young actress, Blanche (Sophie Marceau) as they watch a middle aged couple have a huge fight in the street. Soon Lucas and Blanche are enjoying a blossoming relationship, but will either of them seize the chance to appreciate it?
Mes Nuits sont Plus Belles que vos Jours, as it was known originally, was adapted from a French romantic novel, but the author went uncredited here, with sole script duties going to the eccentric director Andrzej Zulawski. While perhaps not as extreme as some of his other works, the theme of damaging relationships between men and women (supposedly) in love is present, and the accusation of pretentiousness can easily be levelled against it. In fact, you could almost see the film as Zulawski's heterosexual version of Death in Venice, with the dying protagonist finding meaning in his life by his obsession with a younger woman at a European seaside resort. Or maybe that's overdoing it a bit.
After a visit to another restaurant doesn't go very well for Lucas and Blanche, she walks out (the appeal of eating veal is lost on her), but they meet again the next day to share a lump of gum that Blanche was chewing yesterday. As you do. Lucas decides he wants to see her again, but she's off to a job in Biarritz, though not before Lucas manages to find out where she's staying thanks to her mother (Valérie Lagrange) letting him know. So off he follows her, checking into one of the hotel's most expensive suites, as all the while his dialogue becomes more and more of a babble. In fact, Zulawski is keen on getting his two stars to speak in rhyme, yes, even Blanche who has no brain condition.
None that we're aware of, anyway, as she behaves very strangely, and that's just in her nightly performance on stage. This is a kind of mind reading act that involves her going into a trance and predicting the future of the audience members, although why they hang around to hear it is the biggest mystery as the pronouncements are invariably doomladen. I can safely predict you wouldn't be seeing her on Saturday night television any time soon. During the day, Blanche is a fixation with Lucas as if she is the only thing that's clear in his deteriorating state, and they spend a lot of time together as Blanche reveals her reluctance to wear clothes - barely a scene goes by without Marceau whipping them off. This is fine in a decorative way, but rolling around on the floor (or the beach) and chuntering is no substitute for depth and character, and the impression is one of a work that aims for the expected highs and lows of an affair tragically headed nowhere, but fails to strike the emotions. Music by Andrzej Korzynski.
