A Gentle Woman (1969)

It's quite possible that there has never been a better example of the "unreliable narrator" than in Robert Bresson's brilliant A Gentle Woman. As "He," Guy Frangin spends the entire film searching for meaning in the suicide of his wife and in the actions and events that led up to it. It's a futile search -- in the end, it's nothing but an attempt to justify himself and his life -- but in undertaking this search, he imposes a point of view (and, consequently, meaning) on everything that has gone before. Bresson's point is that the events ARE the meaning, and spending the entire film watching Frangin misinterpret -- willingly or not -- the motives and actions of both him and his wife makes for a fascinating and disorienting experience. This plays with the viewer's willingness to accept at face value what he is told by a leading character in the film, creating increasing tension as the words seem more and more at odds with the images with which the viewer is confronted. Bresson emphasizes this even more by focusing (as is his wont) on objects and pieces of people rather than on their faces. Thus, a simple bar of soap captured in the center of the screen takes on a weight and importance that gives it power. Working in color for the first time, the director uses the new palette with subtlety and discrimination, creating a mutedly beautiful film. He is blessed with excellent performances from the domineering Frangin and the ravishing, always intriguing Dominique Sanda, who holds the picture together with her quiet power. Mesmerizing, puzzling, and captivating, A Gentle Woman is a treasure of a film. ~ Craig Butler, All Movie Guide