The Story of Adele H. (1975) Directed by François Truffaut
A story of schizophrenic romanticism about the toxic, obsessive love of the daughter of renowned French writer Victor Hugo for an idle, philandering British lieutenant. Isabelle Adjani seems to be possessed by Adele Hugo herself – her performance is a monster of emotions that devour the character little by little until her delirious descent – and François Truffaut’s orthodox, literary approach to filmmaking gives ample opportunity for Adjani’s powerhouse performance to delve into Adele’s complicated psyche. As usual in Truffaut’s oeuvre, a playful, mischievous intelligence commands the camera – indulgent long takes, sensuous insert shots and sublime movements – yet Truffaut is appropriately deferential to the story; he understands that Adele’s intricate emotional fragility is more transcendent than his formalistic whims, thus the style gravitates more around her and emphasizes her tumultuous psychology. It is a film brimming with a genuine curiosity for the erotomania that dangerously consumes its tragic protagonist, but Truffaut’s direction is so preoccupied with being plausible that it forgets the riches of a ridiculous fiction; consequently, the ending feels very committed to biographical fidelity and to the austere conformity of the tragedy that neglects the tone of the epistolary romanticism in which Adele drowns her sorrows. It is as if the plot demands a melodramatic treatment, but Truffaut does not allow it. Clearly, it’s an inhibited film at times, but Adjani’s remarkable performance obliterates any flaws, and the fabulous cinematography of the great Nestor Almendros is placidly expressive and achingly beautiful. So, it is what it is.