I have always had a healthy dose of distrust in the ‘psy-‘ experts, i.e. psychologists, psychoanalysts or psychiatrists. Call it skepticism or prejudice, the fact is that I have never resorted to their services. The film ‘Vie privée‘ (‘A Private Life‘ in the English version), directed by Rebecca Zlotowski, did not change my opinions at all, on the contrary. If experienced psychoanalysts like Dr. Lilian Steiner, the main heroine of the film, can make such mistakes in diagnoses and assessments, mistakes with potentially fatal consequences for their patients, it is probably too risky to leave our minds and souls in their hands. This is the first film by Rebecca Zlotowski that I have watched. I understand that she is also a screenwriter, being the author or co-author (as in this case) of the scripts of her films. Her professionalism is evident both in the writing and in the directing of the actors. It lacks, I felt, clarity and a deepening of at least some of the many interesting and promising directions that I could identify in this film.
‘Vie privée‘ could have been an exploration of the ‘Americans in Paris’ genre from a less frequently approached female perspective, but the city is rarely seen in the film, except for a few split seconds on the streets and a few spectacularly filmed scenes on a spiral staircase in the Parisian building that houses the apartment and private office of the renowned Dr. Lilian Steiner, the place where several of the film’s key scenes take place. I will avoid spoilers and will only say that the famous expert in psychoanalysis is suspected of responsibility (if not criminal, at least professional) in the death of a patient. Her self-confidence begins to give way to doubts. Starting to check her own diagnoses and recommendations, Lilian begins to suspect that it was not a suicide but a possible murder. The suspicion turns into an obsession. Both she and her ex (they seem still to be in love) husband, and the deceased’s family are Jewish families and they all seem to be living – consciously or unconsciously – past traumas (parents, the Holocaust). Complications are not long in showing up. The plot is quite tangled and additionally complicated by the fact that part of what we see on the screen are flashbacks or images induced through hypnosis.
A detective mystery starting from the question ‘murder or suicide’? A film about an American in Paris? A psychological thriller or, if you wish, a psychoanalytic one? A drama about the power and responsibility of psychiatrists? A commentary on Jewish identity in today’s France? Rebecca Zlotowski does not seem to have decided or perhaps did not want to abandon any of these themes, but neither to delve into them sufficiently. What came out was a mystery dish generously sprinkled with psychoanalysis sauce plus a side dish of oneirism. Jodie Foster is formidable, and not only because she speaks an almost impeccable French but also because she manages to make believable a character who starts out as a medical doctor (and therefore a rational scientist) to immerse herself (almost to drown) in the phantasmagoria of a hypnotist and then return to clarity. Two of my favorite French actors – Daniel Auteuil and Mathieu Amalric – are also in the cast, but the rest of the team is also excellent. The actors largely save a movie that, with more clarity and decision, could have been much more significant than it ended to be.