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TheRE is something about French cinema that is decidedly distinct. It has its own pace, style and ambience and in the case of Dennis Dercourt’s Page Turner, it is an enigmatic suspense thriller, almost Hitchcockian, as it delves deep into the hidden recesses of the mind to bring out cold-blooded horror in the most blas`E9 circumstances.
Melanie (Deborah Francois) is a butcher’s daughter whose ambition was to become a concert pianist but this dream crumbles when during her audition at the conservatory, she is distracted by one of the judges signing an autograph. Melanie’s mother had said earlier that her little girl would always get what she wanted, she was sure of that. Cut to 10 years on and Melanie, now an attractive young woman, gets a job with a lawyer Jean Fouchecourt (Pascoal Greggory) and is soon ensconced in the family as she volunteers to be governess to his son Tristan. It so happens that the lawyer’s wife Ariane (Catherine Frot) is a pianist who has met with an automobile accident and wants to stage a comeback. But she needs a page turner. Guess what, Melanie offers her services. What is Melanie’s intent? Does she want to shine in reflected glory since she could then be near her one-time ambition — a concert pianist? Does she have a crush on Ariane because as the film chugs on there are hints of sexuality? There’s a violinist and a cellist with whom Ariane rehearses. But Ariane depends greatly on Melanie’s support. Darcourt’s screenplay is rich in imagination and admirably ambiguous. It has loads of narrative tension and eons of psychological resonance. What’s more, it flits from character to character, like a butterfly roaming from flower to flower, creating red herrings and large grey areas pregnant with expectation. Much happens off-stage. Like Francois Truffaut’s The Bride Wore Black (Jeanne Moreau). Melanie is a girl possessed. What is her game? It must be pivotal or else the title would not hog the title of the film. But she also happens to enjoy her assignment. For dramatic relief, Melanie and little Tristan spend time in their private pool and then suddenly, inexplicably Melanie is not at her post on concert night. Ariane is shattered. But goes on with the show. Worse is to follow. That music plays a major role is not surprising and "tickling the ivories" is constantly in the air with sound building to a crescendo at key moments, yet numbing silence at others. Cinematographer Jerome Peyrebrune himself launches on a sonata of lush outdoors but he continues to maintain the tempo even through the intricate interiors. The action draws to its inevitable climax without as much a hint of the impending tragedy. It hits you like a bolt from the blue and as swiftly withdraws, leaving the viewer quite stunned even after the show. Such is the impact. Deborah Francois in only her second role (her first was in The Child) is just brilliant. Enigmatic at times, sweetly innocent at others, she is a natural and holds the film together. She is ably supported by Catherine Frot who, unexpectedly, is given top billing. Good cameos by Xavier de Guillebon as the cellist and Clotilde Mollet enhance this chilling, shocking, thought-provoking psychological drama. Don’t miss it.
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