Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 4/11/2017)

As in previous years, the programme is divided into strands that provide showcases for established and emerging directors. Among the titles on view in the Panorama Horizons slot Michel Hazanavicius's Redoubtable, which examines the relationship between the enfant terrible of the nouvelle vague, Jean-Luc Godard, and actress Anne Wiazemsky, who will always be remembered for her poignant performance alongside the eponymous donkey in Robert Bresson's Au hasard Balthazar (1966). However, she also appeared as a 19 year-old in La Chinoise (1967), a career-changing feature by her increasingly politicised husband,, who was 20 years her senior and was going through a personal and artistic crisis during one of the most turbulent periods in recent French political history. Long after their divorce, Wiazemsky (who, sadly, died on 5 October at the age of 70) drew on her relationship with Godard for two novels, Une Année Studieuse (2012) and Un An après (2015), and the latter provides the basis for Hazanavicius's droll drama, which stars Louis Garrel and Stacy Martin as the newlyweds negotiating choppy waters during the May Days of 1968.

Also in the Panorama selection are André Techiné's Golden Years, François Ozon's The Double Lover, Laurent Cantet's The Workshop, Pierre Jolivet's The Firemen, Arnaud Desplechin's Ismaël's Ghosts, Jacques Doillon's Rodin, Carine Tardieu's Just to be Sure, Emmanuelle Bercot's 150 Milligrams, Raja Amari's Foreign Body, Lisa Azuelos's Dalida and Noémie Lvovsky's Tomorrow and Thereafter.

Thanks to the unfailing generosity of the festival organisers, it has been possible to see all but Mehdi Idir and Fabien Marsaud's Step by Step in the Discovery section and we shall look at the other pictures in more detail below. Maryam Goormaghtigh's documentary Before Summer Ends also eluded our grasp, while a combination of access and time prevents us from marking in sufficient detail the 25th anniversary of Régis Wargnier's Indochine (1992) and the restoration of Claude Berri's majestic Marcel Pagnol adaptations, Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources (both 1986). Similarly, we must content ourselves with paying passing respect to Jeanne Moreau - who passed away in July at the age of 89 - rather than provide a full analysis of her performances in Louis Malle's The Lovers (1958) and The Fire Within (1963), Jacques Demy's Bay of Angels (1963) and Joseph Losey's Mr Klein (1976). But Moreau, who is one of the finest actresses in screen history, will be sadly missed, along with Jean Rochefort and Danielle Darrieux, who have also left us wanting more.

A clutch of pictures are coming to cinemas in the next few weeks, so we shall hold fire on any in-depth analysis.

Commemorating the 150th anniversary of the birth of the first woman to win a Nobel Prize, Marie Noëlle's Marie Curie: The Courage of Knowledge is a respectful, but conventional biopic that departs from the cosy romanticism of Mervyn Le Roy's Madame Curie (1943) to show how the Polish-born physicist survived after the death of her beloved husband and workmate. Indeed, the death of Pierre Curie (Charles Berling) in a carriage accident might throw those expecting a rehash of Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon's billing and cooing over their bunsen burners. But the tragedy allows Noëlle and co-scenarist Andrea Stoll to examine lesser-known aspects of Marie's life.

Although the loss of Pierre initially proves a problem when Marie (Karolina Gruszka) seeks the approval of the chauvinist scientific hierarchy, her research into radiation remains pioneering and earns her an invitation to the famous Solvay Conference in 1911, where she is lionised by Albert Einstein (Piotr Glowacki). However, her affair with married colleague Paul Langevin (Arieh Worthalter) threatens to ruin her reputation, as his petit-bourgeois wife, Jeanne (Marie Denarnaud), refuses to give him a divorce.

Focusing on the eight years between Mme Curie's Nobel triumphs (1903-11), this has little in common with Claude Pinoteau's amusingly revisionist Les Palmes de M. Schutz (1997), which saw Berling play Pierre opposite Isabelle Huppert's Marie. In fact, the episodic action often veers towards novelettish melodrama, as Marie savours the thrills of an illicit tryst one moment and castigates either the inadequacies of the French education system or the insularity of the Sorbonne faculty the next. Gruszka is admirably stern, as she toils in her laboratory and strives to convince sister Izabelle Kuna that she can push back the boundaries of knowledge and be a good mother to her two daughters. But Noëlle's direction is overly fussy, as she litters her haphazard narrative with wipes, split screens and freeze frames.

Despite being set in Kinshasa, Alain Gomis's Félicité also centres on a heroine forced to adapt to a drastic change in circumstances following an accident. Unable to afford the operation that 14 year-old son Gaetan Claudia needs on a leg supposedly broken in a motorbike spill, singer Véro Tshanda Beya throws herself on the mercy of the men in her life. However, the boy's feckless father taunts her for failing to be the strong independent woman she purports to be, while the owner of the club where she performs with the Kasai Allstars fires her for getting the police involved in a bid to claim her back pay. Moreover, the gangster she turns to as a last resort has her beaten for her impudence.

Just as her options appear to be diminishing, however, Beya receives support from an unlikely source. But, while mechanic Papi Mpaka seems to be a nice guy who might even be able to fix her pesky fridge, he becomes an abrasive womaniser when he gets drunk and, when Claudia loses his leg because the corrupt hospital refused to treat him without payment in advance, Beya slumps into a depression that is symbolised by grainy reveries involving water, woodland, darkness and an okapi.

Alternating between moody musical numbers, boisterous encounters between Beya and Mpaka, and prolonged periods of silence, this demands more audience patience than the Franco-Senegalese director's previous outings, L'Afrance (2001), Andalucia (2008) and Today ( 2013). Scripting with Delphine Zingg and Olivier Loustau, Gomis paints a bleak picture of life in the Democratic Republic of Congo, which is reinforced by Céline Bozon's restless camerawork and Benoit De Clerck's busy sound mix, which is frequently complemented by musical passages by the Kinshasa Symphony Orchestra. But, while Beya proves eminently empathetic, this loses its impetus whenever Gomis strays from everyday reality.

Another single mother has to come to terms with major changes in her life in Aurore (aka Fifty Springtimes), Blandine Lenoir's follow-up to the much-admired Zouzou (2014). Exploring how modern Frenchwomen approach middle age, this would fit neatly into a triple bill with Mia Hansen-Løve's Things to Come and Anne-Gaëlle Daval's De Plus Belle (see below). But, while Lenoir and co-scribe Jean-Luc Gaget offer some thoughtful insights into the ageing process, they over-rely on comic set-pieces that don't always flow organically from the narrative.

Waitress Agnès Jaoui has hit 50 and slammed straight into the menopause. She can just about put up with the hot flushes, but she is shaken by doctor Marc Citti's verdict that women's bodies start going downhill after 30. Husband Philippe Rebbot clearly agrees, as he has left her for another woman and Jaoui is dreading the prospect of younger daughter Lou Roy-Lecollinet leaving for Barcelona with her partner. However, when Sarah Suco announces she is pregnant, Jaoui is even less enamoured of the prospect of becoming a grandmother and clings to best friend Pascale Arbillot for morale support when she loses her job because new café owner Nicolas Chupin considers her too old-fashioned for his redesign plans.

Hope comes in the form of old flame Thibault de Montalembert. But the idea that being desired again is the solution to Jaoui's problems seems a trivial contrivance and one that flies in the face of the recurring references to the theories of militant feminist Françoise Héritier. The asides on the shortcomings of the Pôle Emploi agency dedicated to helping the unemployed find job satisfaction are somewhat sharper, but Lenoir always seems more intent on making the audience smile than putting the world to rights. As always, Jaoui is splendid, as she tries to put her best foot forward. Thus, even though the secondary characters are sketchily drawn and the resolution feels cornily trite, this is never anything less than engaging, sincere and optimistic.

Even more joyous is Lost in Paris, the latest comic confection from the husband-and-wife team of Dominique Abel and Fiona Gordon. As in the case of L'Iceberg (2005), Rumba (2008) and The Fairy (2011), the emphasis is firmly on the kind of gentle slapstick comedy perfected by Jacques Tati that allows sight gags to emerge at their own pace from a storyline pitching an innocent into a mean-spirited world. Impeccably timed and, in its own subtle way, bitingly satirical, this is an unmissable delight.

Despite the fact that her octogenarian aunt used a rubbish bin to mail a letter summoning her to Paris, Canadian librarian Fiona Gordon fetches up in the French capital sporting a haversack topped with a red maple flag. Unable to find Emmanuelle Riva at her apartment, Gordon heads for the banks of the Seine in the hope of bumping into her. Forced to spend the night in a tent after falling in the river while posing for a photo, she makes the acquaintance of hobo Dominique Abel, who has found her knapsack and helped himself to her purse and a sweater. They meet again at Maxim's floating péniche, where they dance a tango to music that booms so loudly that other diners have to keep tight hold of their meals. But, after mistakenly attending what she presumes to be Riva's funeral, Gordon tracks her down to the Eiffel Tower for a bizarre reunion.

Few films generate laughter with such regularity, ingenuity and whimsicality as those of this inspired duo. The Australian Gordon exploits her gawky elasticity to beguiling effect, while Abel tempers his Hulotian naiveté with a touch of Chaplinesque rascality. But their comedy is always rooted in character and milieu, even when the knockabout seems gleefully contrived. They are also generous in portioning out the gags, with Riva and fellow veteran Pierre Richard revelling in a sedentary dance routine on a bench in Père Lachaise Cemetery. Such landmarks occur regularly, but there's nothing touristy about Claire Childeric and Jean-Christophe Leforestier's photography, as they follow the madcap antics with the discretion one associates with a Fred and Ginger dance number.

Changing the tone, the estimable Stéphane Brizé follows up Not Here to Be Loved (2005), Mademoiselle Chambon (2009) and The Measure of a Man (2015) with A Woman's Life, an adaptation of Guy de Maupassants first novel, Une Vie (1888). Previously filmed by Alexandre Astruc in 1958 under its original title (although it was also known as End of Desire), with Maria Schell and Christian Marquand in the leads, this represents a surprising move from social realism into period refinement. But Brizé and cinematographer Antoine Héberlé make astute use of the boxy Academy ratio to curtail any heritage ostentation and keep the audience alert to significant events occurring beyond the frame.

Returning from her convent school to the idyllic home of Baron Simon-Jacques Le Perthuis des Vauds (Jean-Pierre Darroussin) and his wife, Adélaïde (Yolande Moreau), Jeanne (Judith Chemla) is happy to accept the proposal of the dashing Viscount Julien de Lamare (Swann Arlaud). However, her new husband proves brutish and cold and Jeanne is appalled to discover that he has raped her maid, Rosalie (Nina Meurisse). Both women give birth around the same time and Jeanne enjoys a brief moment of respite after Abbé Picot (Olivier Perrier) helps her repair her relationship with Julien. Indeed, she seems to have found steadfast friends in Countess Gilberte de Fourville (Clotilde Hesme) and her husband Georges (Alain Beigel). But infidelity intrudes upon her happiness and events take a tragic turn after the intervention of the self-righteous Abbé Tolbiac (Father François-Xavier Ledoux).

Although there is plenty of plot to fit in, Brizé, co-writer Florence Vignon and editor Anne Klotz cannily employ short scenes that allow the audience to become accustomed to the period conventions and the personalities of Jeanne and Julien. Initially, the symbolism is a little florid, while some might object to the frequent time shifts. But, as Jeanne's ordeal becomes more onerous, Brizé and Héberlé darken the rain-lashed imagery to reflect her growing melancholy, as even her beloved mother and spoilt son Paul (Finnegan Oldfield) let her down. The ensemble playing is exemplary, with Judith Chemla outstanding in Madeline Fontaine costumes and make-up by Garance Van Rossum that emphasise the loss over 27 years of her youthful radiance and hope.

Coming into the present, Lucas Belvaux presents an equally stark vision of La Patrie in This Is Our Land. Reflecting the rise of an ostensibly respectable form of extreme right nationalism under Marine Le Pen, this may lack the finesse that has characterised such multiple César nominees as Trilogy (2002), Rapt (2009), One Night (2012) and Not My Type (2014). But, even as its narrative becomes increasingly prone to soap-style melodramatics, this unflinching state-of-the-nation tract still packs a punch.

Health visitor Émilie Dequenne is a respected figure in Hénart, a rundown community in the north-eastern Pas de Calais. Raised by card-carrying Communist Patrick Descamps after he was abandoned by her mother, Dequenne is determined to do right by her own children, even though times are tough. However, just as she rekindles the flame with her first boyfriend, Guillaume Gouix, doctor André Dussollier tries to recruit her for the RNP party run by Catherine Jacob, whose father had founded the far-right Patriotic Bloc. Convinced that Dequenne has the popular appeal to win the trust of voters across the class divide, he persuades her to run for mayor. But, while Descamps disowns his newly blonde daughter and her left-leaning friend Charlotte Talpaert pleads with Dequenne to think again, Gouix hides the fact that he is not only a past associate of Jacob and Dussollier, but that he is also still part of a crypto-fascist vigilante gang that preys on the Muslims, migrants and asylum seekers in the community.

Sharing a scripting credit for the first time, Belvaux and Jerôme Leroy present a broad brush snapshot that enables them to push political buttons without delving too deeply into the pernicious ideology that seduces Dequenne and her best friend Anne Marivin. As always, Dequenne gives a committed performance, although her exploited bellwether character is scarcely credible, as she falls for the lies being peddled by Dussollier and Gouix. Closer in tone to something one might find in a film directed by Ken Loach than anything by the Dardenne brothers, the climactic twist further chips away at the picture's gritty realist credentials. Yet, the sheer topicality of the drama gives it a potency that it never quite earns.

Prejudice also rears its head in La Fémis graduate Sacha Wolff's debut feature, Mercenary, which examines the attitude of ordinary French people to the overseas territories that regard themselves as Gallic to the core. Working with a predominantly non-professional cast, Wolff draws telling contrasts between his Polynesian and Nouvelle-Aquitaine settings. Yet, while the visuals owe much to the neo-realist tradition, the narrative is more reliant on melodramatic contrivance to drive home the social critique.

Toki Pilioko lives for rugby in the New Caledonian town of Nouméa, where he dwells with his fisherman father, Petelo Sealeu, and younger brother, Maoni Talalua. When French talent scout Laurent Pakihivatau spots the heavily tattooed Pilioko, he tries to recruit him for a French provincial team. Initially, the drunkenly strict Sealeu refuses to allow his boy to travel, but he opts to disown him in the hope of preventing Talalua following in his footsteps. When he touches down in Europe, therefore, Pilioko has burnt his boats and has to make a success of his chance of a lifetime.

Before he has even played a game, however, his hopes are dashed when the coach declares him too small to make it a s professional prop forward and Pilioko is forced to head to the south-western town of Agen to join his distant cousin, Mikaele Tuugahala, who manages to find him a place with a lower-tier team. In order to bulk up, Pilioko is pressured into taking steroids and he quickly discovers that his teammates have no time for him off the field, even though he speaks French and has a decent grasp on the local culture. But, just as he starts to feel at home after starting a relationship with pregnant supermarket cashier Iliana Zabeth, Pilioko is threatened by Pakihivatau, who insists that he reimburses him for his air fare.

Photographed by Samuel Lahu with a handheld intimacy that ensures the action unfolds from Pilioko's perspective, this bears a passing resemblance to Lindsay Anderson's 1963 adaptation of David Storey's rugby league novel, This Sporting Life. But, while race and body shape replace class and moral hypocrisy as the main themes, the films share an emphasis on the exploitation of sporting talent, as Wolff considers the extent to which owners and fans care about the origins and opinions of their heroes, providing they are doing their stuff on the pitch. Caught between his Catholicism and his Wallisian heritage, Pilioko displays laudable sensitivity as the palooka outsider expected to toe the line, with his charming scenes with the free-spirited Zabeth belying the pent-up fury that eventually erupts in the Haka that loudly and proudly proclaims his identity.

Based on an acclaimed autobiographical novel by Joseph Joffo, Christian Duguay's A Bag of Marbles departs slightly from both the text and Jacques Doillon's 1975 screen adaptation. On occasion, it also comes perilously close to prettifying and sentimentalising the Nazi Occupation of France. But the excellence of the young leads ensures that this would make a worthy companion piece to Louis Malle's exceptional juvenile perspective on the conflict, Au Revoir les Enfants (1987) Aged 12 and 10, siblings Batyste Fleurial and Dorian Le Clech enjoy an idyllic existence playing marbles with their pals in a rough-and-ready Parisian neighbourhood. They live with barber father Patrick Bruel and musician mother Elsa Zylberstein, as well as older brothers César Domboy and Ilian Bergala. But, when France surrenders to the Wehrmacht in the spring of 1940, Bruel informs his children that he intends sending them south to avoid the persecution of the Jewish population that he is sure will follow. In the course of their journey to join Domboy and Bergala in Nice, however, Fleurial and Le Clech have to deny their heritage and also have to use judgement beyond their years to know who to trust and who to fear.

Despite reaching safety, the boys are soon on the road again, after the Germans extend their influence beyond Vichy and their fate is decided by their encounters with Resistance fighter Kev Adams, doctor Christian Clavier and bookshop owner Emile Berling. But, while the focus remains firmly on the innocent pluck of Le Clech and Fleurial, Duguay also explores the anguish endured by Burel and Zylberstein, as they await news of their offspring, while witnessing the growing ferocity of the anti-Semitism that justifies their decision to break up the family. No stranger to this period having directed Pope Pius XII (2010) and Belle & Sebastian: The Adventure Continues (2015), the French-Canadian Duguay captures the mood of an embattled and divided nation. But several secondary characters are stereotypes, while Christophe Graillot's imagery and Armand Amar's score are a little too lush.

Director Philippe Lioret follows the excellent Welcome (2009) and the less widely seen All Our Desires (2011) with another fish out of water story in A Kid. Loosely based on a book by Jean-Paul Dubois, this could so easily have descended into TV-movie mush. But Lioret and co-writer Nathalie Cartier keep the focus on character as much as possible, even though they can't resist a climactic twist that, while hardly unexpected, provides a satisfyingly neat ending to a well-told tale.

Despite having published a novel, Parisian Pierre Deladonchamps has to keep working as a dog food executive to help ex-wife Romane Portail raise their young son, Timothy Vom Dorp. However, when he gets a call from the blue informing him that the father he never knew has died, Deladonchamps hops on a plane to Quebec to meet his late parent's best friend, Gabriel Arcand. Deladonchamps explains that his mother always claimed that he was the result of a one-night stand and Arcand confirms that his existence is a secret that half-brothers Patrick Hivon and Pierre-Yves Cardinal know nothing about.

But, when they head to the lake to search for their dad's unrecovered body after he went missing during a boating trip, Arcand concocts an excuse for Deladonchamps to tag along. During the expedition, however, he realises that all is not well between the pair, as car salesman Cardinal drinks heavily in a bid to recapture the buzz he got as a rally driver, while the ultra-religious Hivon is obsessed with making money for his Montreal law firm. Yet, amidst this domestic discord, Deladonchamps takes inspiration from the bond between Arcand and his wife, Marie-Thérèse Fortin, and between their daughter, Catherine de Léan, and her young twins, Lilou and Milla Moreau-Champagne.

Once again proving himself adept at using everyday detail to bring an unforced authenticity to his storytelling, Lioret largely succeeds in keeping sentiment and platitude at bay. He is ably abetted by Philippe Guilbert's lustrous views of the Qubecois countryside and some solid performances. But he struggles to involve us in the more predictable tensions between the rather resistible Hivon and Cardinal, while seeking to put a spin on Leo Tolstoy's contention by showing that even unhappy families can be happy in their own way. In essence, this is soap opera. But it has an old-fashioned sincerity to match its cosy charm.

Another writer is also to the fore in Nicolas Bedos's feature bow, Mr & Mrs Edelman, which he scripted with his off-screen partner and co-star, Donia Tillier. Chronicling 45 years of marriage, this is as self-reflexive as any nouvelle vague film, as the pair litter the story with allusions to the work of Woody Allen and Ingmar Bergman. However, they fail to pull off an audacious sleight of hand in the final third and, as a result, this otherwise engaging blend of romantic comedy and domestic melodrama starts to fray at the seams.

Meeting in a disco in 1971, Bedos and Tillier quickly embark upon a physical relationship. He is a budding author and she is a brilliant PhD student. Psychiatrist Denis Podalydès thinks it would do Bedos good to have someone other than himself to worry about and they marry. However, rather than assuming responsiblity for Tillier, Bedos exploits her to the extent that he borrows her Jewish surname for his magnum opus on Holocaust survivors. When the book is a runaway success and Bedos is awarded the Prix Goncourt, he expresses his gratitude by marginalising and cheating on Tillier, who is left to bring up their educationally challenged son, Méziane Djahlat.

Some may be shocked by the response to the death of their child (Martin Magli) in his late twenties. But, by then, Bedos has become so self-absorbed that he barely notices that Tillier has a drug problem and that his own literary star is slipping into the descendant. Yet, as his decline drives him home, Bedos comes to realise how much he owes to Tillier and they cling together against the onset of old age.

Told as a series of flashbacks as Tillier helps journalist Antoine Gouy with his research for a book on her late husband, this has moments of hilarity and poignancy. In particular, Pierre Arditi excels as Bedos's at an excruciatingly awful Christmas celebration. But the depiction of Tillier's parents, Ronald Guttman and Betty Reicher, is crassly stereotypical, as the co-scenarists strain for comic effect. The special effects make-up used to age Bedos and Tillier is equally unpersuasive, while production designer Stéphane Rosenbaum, costumier Karen Muller Serreau and hair stylist Aude Thomas sometimes stray the wrong side of winking kitsch. Yet, despite this missteps and the over-reliance on Allenesque pastuche, this is played with a cornball affection that proves deceptively contagious, right up until the unpardonably gauche twist.

The ever-dependable Denis Podalydès has a more prominent role in Olivier Ayache-Vidal's The Teacher. A quick flick through the history books reveals that the French set great store by school films, with François Truffaut's Small Change (1976), Bertrand Tavernier's It All Starts Today (1999) and Laurent Cantet's The Class (2008) being joined on the honours board by such inspirational documentaries as Nicolas Philibert's Être et avoir (2002) and Julie Bertucelli's School of Babel (2013). More recently, Isabelle Huppert excelled as a dedicated, but prickly philosophy teacher in Mia Hansen-Løve's Things to Come (2016), while Sara Forestier contributed an earnest performance to Hélène Angel's amiable Primaire. Ayache-Vidal rarely strays from the tried-and-trusted formula. But, despite striving to draw attention to the deficiencies in the French educational system, he runs the risk of straying into the sentimental territory reserved for American studies of inspirational educators.

Having taught literature at the prestigious Lycée Henri IV in Paris, Denis Podalydès finds it difficult to understand why colleagues are not more committed to educating kids in the banlieues. His comments at a dinner party intrigue education ministry pen-pusher Jean-Pierre Lorit, who transfers Podalydès to a struggling institution in the suburbs and suggests that he puts his own theories into practice. Nettled by the transfer, but convinced of his own abilities, Podalydès tries to teach his new students as though they were intellectually curious and socially aware of the need of good qualifications. But the rebellious Abdoulaye Diallo quickly disabuses him of his complacent notions and it takes a few harsh lessons and some advice from staffroom confidante Pauline Huruguen and his own artist sister, Léa Drucker, before Podalydès finally gets on the same wavelength as his new charges.

Having spent two years researching the project at Collége Barbara (formerly Collége Maurice Thorez) in Stains in the Seine-Saint-Denis district of the capital, Ayache-Vidal certainly has a firm grasp on the flaws in the Priority Education Network that was established to improve teaching and results in the toughest schools in France. He is also aware of the socio-economic problems that help to demotivate pupils reluctant to invest in a system that doesn't seem to value them. Yet, while he avoids preaching too stridently, Ayache-Vidal finds the clichés of the school scenario more difficult to swerve. Consequently, while Podalydès demonstrates again in his encounters with the admirable Diallo why he is such a lauded member of the Comédie-Française, this has an air of inevitability that somewhat undercuts its good intentions.

French cinema has a decent recent track record for office dramas, with Laurent Cantet's Human Resources (1999), Jacques Audiard's Read My Lips (2001), Nicolas Klotz's Heartbeat Detector (2008), Jean-Marc Moutout's Early One Morning (2011) and Pascal Bonitzer's Right Here Right Now (2015) among the sharpest examples. In making his feature debut with Corporate, Nicolas Silhol enlists the help of Nicolas Fleureau, a management expert whose father is also a human resources consultant. But, while the duo cannily exploit the complexities of French employment law and get the corporate atmosphere just right, they sometimes struggle to maintain the dramatic tempo.

Having been handpicked as a new graduate by boss Lambert Wilson, Céline Sallette has developed an enviable reputation in the human resources department of a large French food company. As labour laws make it difficult to fire employees, Sallette has learned how to cajole victims into taking the voluntary decision to move on. But, when one recently outmanoeuvred drone throws himself from an upper-storey window, Sallette finds herself becoming increasingly isolated, as Lambert distances himself from her after investigator Violaine Fumeau is assigned to the case. Moreover, Sallette also starts finding her domestic situation more stressful, after unemployed British husband Colin Hansen takes umbrage at the way she appraises his child-rearing skills.

With production designer Sidney Dubois and cinematographer Nicolas Gaurin conspiring to make working and living environments as chilly and discomfiting as possible, this always looks and feels authentic. The office jargon also sounds persuasive, while Sallette seemingly adopts a different persona in her dealings with staff, Wilson, Hansen and Fumeau, whose no-nonsense insight into the way in which Sallette has been set up allows Silhol to shift the blame on to the faceless fat cats rather than a working mum who has developed a cut-throat mentality out of her need to survive. Ultimately, the resolution is rather trite. But this has a cool intelligence to go with its contrived cogency and some commendable performances.

One of the most distinctive voices in French cinema returns at FFF 25, as Philippe Garrel completes the trilogy started with Jealousy (2013) and In the Shadow of Women (2015) with Lover For a Day. Shot in grainy monochrome in just 21 days, the script has been co-written by Garrel's wife, Caroline Deruas, Maurice Pialat's former collaborator (and Claude Berri's sister) Arlette Langmann and Luis Buñuel's old sparring partner. Jean-Claude Carrière. Given the advanced age of three of the scenarists, one might expect this to have a classical feel. But, as is often the way with Garrel (who made his debut at 19 half a century ago), this feels modern, sprightly and modishly chic, without striving hard for any effect.

Crushed after breaking up with her fiancé Paul Toucang, Jeanne (Esther Garrel) seeks the comfort of her philosophy teacher father, Gilles (Éric Caravaca), only to discover that he has just started an affair with one of his students, Ariane (Louise Chevillotte). Initially, the 23 year-olds are wary of one another, with Jeanne resenting the fact that Ariane monopolises her father when she needs to confide in him and Ariane being appalled by the fact that Jeanne often gets the first kiss when Gilles comes home.

After Ariane prevents Jeanne from doing something foolish, however, the pair become firm friends and start keeping secrets from Gilles. But he is concerned by how devoted Ariane is becoming and, in a bid to allay any suspicions that they are an item, he encourages her to broaden her sexual horizons by sleeping with men with whom she has no emotional connection. Meanwhile, Jeanne vows to win back the love of her life.

Narrated with a wry nouvelle vaguean gravity by Laetitia Spigarelli, this fascinating treatise on love and the inevitability of infidelity has an elegance and erudition that has become somewhat outdated in indie circles where handheld intimacy and immediacy are the watchwords of both stylistic and psychological authenticity. Swiss cinematographer Renato Berta certainly keeps the camera close to the characters, as they debate emotions and urges, duties and desires. But he also captures the atmosphere of the bars, alleys and dimly lit rooms that Garrel favours, as well as the urgency of the sex scenes, which often take place in less than salubrious places, as arousal overtakes circumspection.

Given the age gap between himself and Deruas, it's tempting to speculate whether the pair have slipped any confessional details into the script. But, having worked with his son Louis on seven occasions, Garrel displays understandable discretion in directing daughter Esther, who is often asked to be tearful, but is spared the naked scrutiny experienced by stage star Louise Chevillotte in her debut feature. However, there is nothing prurient about the action, which is neatly punctuated with music by Jean-Louis Aubert.

Finally, four of the features showing in FFF25 went on general release this week. Indeed, they led off the In Cinemas column and we re-present them here.

This has been a busy period for biopics about famous French painters. Following hard on the heels of Danièle Thompson's Cézanne et Moi and Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman's Loving Vincent comes Édouard Deluc's Gauguin in Tahiti, which draws on the artists 1901 tome, Noa Noa: Voyage to Tahiti, to reflect on his first visit to French Polynesia between 1891-93. But, while this visually evocative picture boasts the kind of elegant fin-de-siècle production values one might expect, Deluc and co-writers Etienne Comar, Thomas Lilti and Sarah Kaminsky adopt such a cavalier attitude to historical truth that this sorry saga not only wilfully misrepresents the nature of Gauguin's sexual appetites, but it also glosses over the harsh realities of French colonial rule and concocts an entirely fictitious ménage in order to whip up some dramatic conflict.

Tired of having to do manual labour on the docks in order to survive because no one is buying his paintings, Paul Gauguin (Vincent Cassel) takes the advance afforded him by his agent and informs his small circle of artistic friends that he intends leaving for French Polynesia in order to live a simpler life and find fresh inspiration. When his Danish wife, Mette (Pernille Bergendorff), informs him that she cannot subject their five children to an uncertain future, Gauguin accuses her of hiding behind her family's bourgeois values. He also listens with little interest as poet Stéphane Mallarmé (Marc Barbé) delivers a farewell oration at a boisterous café gathering that reinforces the sense of ennui that Gauguin feels before he sets sail.

As the rain hammers down outside his cramped quarters, Gauguin paints feverishly by candlelight. He consults sketches and etchings, as he daubs paint on to the canvas, as though inspiration is eluding him and he is finding his new environs to be anything but the paradise he had anticipated. His spirits are dealt a further blow when Mette sends a letter informing him that none of his paintings have sold and that her family has coerced her into terminating their union. Staggering away from the store run by Wei (Jean-Pierre Tchann), where he has run up a considerable tab, the coughing Gauguin collapses on the path and is carried to the clinic in Mataiea by a village youth named Jotepha (Pua-Taï Hikutini), where Henri Vallin (Malik Zidi) tells him that he has suffered a heart attack and that his diabetic condition will deteriorate unless he improves his diet.

Tired of painting on the window, Gauguin discharges himself and entrusts a letter to the doctor, in which he promises Mette that their children will one day be proud of their father. He proceeds on horseback through the jungle and emerges in a sunny upland, where he breathes fresher air and bathes in a waterfall pool. However, his attempts to catch fish with a homemade spear and his rifle are unsuccessful and he is grateful to wind up in a remote settlement, where he wakes to find the children playing with his paints.

Welcomed by Onati (Teiva Manoi) and his wife, Ruita (Tiare Hoata), Gauguin takes the name `Kokay' because they can't pronounce his surname. He also accepts their offer to marry their teenage daughter, Tehura (Tuheï Adams), after she serves them during a meal. Despite her youth, the girl seems to know what she wants and agrees to return with Gauguin to Mataiea. However, having asked if he is a good man, Ruita warns him that Tehura will be free to leave after one cycle of the moon if she discovers the union is not to her liking.

As they ride back across the island, Gauguin shows Tehura the stars and teaches her how to draw. She looks through his sketchbook and finds a photograph of his family, but says nothing about it. One night, she tells him the creation myth of Ta'aroa and he is charmed by her innocence and willingness to learn. He poses her with her chin in her hand and they make love on his rickety bed. But Tehura notices Jotepha fooling around with his friends when she does the laundry in the river and is also taken by the sight of the villagers leaving the missionary church after a service.

Vallin comes to visit and reminds Gauguin that he needs treatment if he is to keep his body going long enough to realise his ambitions. He is impressed with the pictures of Tehura and suggests that she is a Tahitian Venus. Gauguin explains that she has an unspoilt savagery that harks back to the dawn of human time and he is determined to do justice to her beauty. Vallin recognises that Gauguin has tapped into a rich vein of inspiration and agrees to take his paintings to the port. Meanwhile, Gauguin raids the shop for sacks, so that he can keep producing images of Tehura, whose vitality has caught the eye of Jotepha, as he watches her playing with the children who have attached themselves to the grey-bearded stranger.

Revitalised by the sense that he is achieving something worthwhile, Gauguin plays with the children and enjoys the sound of their laughter. But he is taken aback when Tehura asks for a white dress so that she can go to church and he tries to tell her that she doesn't need religion to lead a fully and contented life. However, she is moved by the singing during the service and smiles at Jotepha, as she stands next to him in the pew. Sensing something is developing between them, Gauguin follows the pair into the woods and calls for Jotepha to help him cut some branches, as he has run out of paint and has decided to sculpt in wood in order to stay busy. Fascinated, Jotepha copies Gauguin's hammer and chisel technique, only for the Frenchman to urge him create for himself rather than follow the example of others (which is, of course, essentially what Gauguin is doing in taking inspiration from Tahiti's artefacts and people).

Taking a cart to Papeete, Gauguin lays out his wares in the marketplace and watches the civil servants and their families strolling around the colony's capital as if they owned it. Eventually, a young man wakes Gauguin from his slumbers and haggles down the price for one of the sculptures and he uses the money to buy a white dress for Tehura. He also goes to a café and looks on, as drunken Frenchmen paw at the local girls, with a detestable sense of superiority. By the time he returns to his studio, it's already dark and he finds Tehura naked and face down on the bed, as she is frightened that evil spirits have entered the hut because the candles have gone out. Rather than reassure her, however, Gauguin orders her to hold the pose and begins sketching by lamplight.

With Wei no longer willing to give him credit, Gauguin is forced to go fishing and the locals tease him when he catches three fish with the hook in the lower lip, as this means his wife is unfaithful. Tehura is hurt when he tells her about their suspicions and she is deeply hurt and suggests that his jealousy will fester unless he releases his emotions by striking her. He falls silent at her reproach, but does lash out at Jotepha when he declares that he has producing statues for the white folks to buy, as Gauguin hoped he had taught him to channel his creativity rather than simply churn out tourist trinkets. Shortly afterwards, Tehura suffers a miscarriage and asks Gauguin to take her home. He vows to look after her and, after seeing her sleeping beside Jotepha (and deciding against shooting them), he leaves Mataiea and gets a job hauling sacks on the waterfront in Papeete. Meals with Tehura are taken in silence, as he tries to get back on his feet. But Vallin becomes increasingly concerned for his health and Gauguin receives a communication that he is to be deported back to France as a pauper. He refuses to go and, after he sees Jotepha dressed in a smart suit from the money he makes selling his statues in the market, Gauguin takes to locking Tehura in while he is toiling at the docks. But Jotepha finds her and Gauguin returns home to find the front door has been forced. Yet Tehura is waiting for him and he paints her one last time before taking the boat back to France.

A closing sequence of captions informs us that Gauguin was repatriated by the Ministry of the Interior as `an artist in distress'. However, he exhibited 41 of his Tahitian pictures to mixed reviews in the gallery owned by Paul Durand-Ruel. After spending time in Brittany and in Copenhagen with his family, he visited Tahiti again, as well as the Marquesas, where he painted some of modern art's greatest masterpieces. Yet, he died alone and destitute on 8 May 1903. We see some of these as the credits roll and, interestingly, none of Céline Guignard Rajot's costumes correspond with those shown in the paintings. This is a minor detail, but it rather sums up Deluc's approach to reconstructing history.

No mention is made of the fact that Tehura was just 13 years old when she became Gauguin's companion and some will be disconcerted by the fact that Tuhei Adams, who appears topless in one sequence, is only four years older. But, even if we accept that the events depicted occurred in a very different time and place, it seems disingenuous to overlook such a crucial character trait. However, Deluc and his cohorts are more intent on dissecting the colonial mentality and the legacy of the missionary church than they are in exposing an artistic titan as a syphilitic paedophile.

There's nothing salacious about the scenes centring on the physical side of Gauguin's relationship with Tehura and Vincent Cassel manages to convey a sense of tenderness in a committed performance that often requires him to stare through rheumy eyes at a world that he often feels unworthy to capture. Fewer demands are made on Adams and Pua-Taï Hikutini, who are often required to look beautiful and exotic. Consequently, we learn nothing about their inner lives or what happened to them after Gauguin returned to France. But Deluc has a penchant for presuming considerable foreknowledge and for banking on a lack of audience curiosity.

Yet, while this fragmentary episode fails as biography and drama, Emmanuelle Cuillery's production design is notable, while cinematographer Pierre Cottereau ably contrasts the vibrant colours of the island and the canvases with the half-lit gloom in which Gauguin worked. He also makes effective use of a shallow depth of field to suggest Gauguin's insularity on Tahiti and the narrowness of his focus, as someone who lived to paint and little more. With violin score Warren Ellis's score being sparingly employed during the more sombre moments, this is clearly a heartfelt project. But its subject remains suspect, as do Dulac's motives for insisting on airbrushing him.

Having made a decent job of reviving an old tele-favourite in Belle and Sebastien (2013), experienced documentarist Nicolas Vanier returns with School of Life, another period piece that harks back to the 1920s for a rite of passage that feels as though it should have been adapted from a beloved childhood novel. Co-scripted by Jérôme Tonnerre and set in Sologne in north-central France, the story calls to mind Jean Renoir's La Règle du jeu (1939), as it pits a poacher against a gamekeeper on a large country estate. But, rather than being a biting indictment of the class system at a time when La Patrie was dancing on the edge of a volcano, this is a rose-tinted recreation that allows a town mouse to discover his destiny in a rugged rustic setting.

Summoned to an orphanage in Paris in 1927, Valérie Karsenti is so shocked by the slap that the director gives to young Jean Scandel in the dormitory that she agrees to foster him for the summer on the vast country estate where she works as a maid. The boy remains politely sullen on the train journey to the Loiret and is reluctant to call Karsenti `maman', even though she claims that they are related because she is the son of her cousin's nephew.

Taken by the yard abutting Karsenti's cottage, Scandel is horrified when she turns the rabbit he had been stroking into supper and he is stopped from opening the hutches to release the others by her gruff gamekeeper husband, Eric Elmosnino. He takes Scandel to feed the hunting hounds belonging to Count François Berléand and warns him to steer clear of François Cluzet, a roguish poacher who belongs behind bars. However, Karsenti insists he is a nice chap and shows Scandel the rickety boat on the river he calls home.

Intrigued by someone who refuses to play by the rules, Scandel watches Cluzet fishing and dives into rescue his little dog, Boy (who is female), when she is swept away by the current. Yet, while he lets Scandel dry out on his gadget-laden boat, Cluzet suspects that he is spying for Elmosnino and orders him to stay away. That night, however, Scandel sees Karsenti put a towel out to dry in the window as a signal to Cluzet after Elmosnino goes on his rounds and he threatens to expose their dalliance unless Cluzet agrees to let him tag along on his scavenging route through the woods.

The poacher teaches the boy how to read animal tracks and shows him how he uses reversible soles on his boots to keep Elmosnino guessing about his movements. They hide behind a rock, as Berléand rides with his hounds in pursuit of stags and reprimands Elmosnino for wasting his energies on Cluzet when he has no objection to him taking the odd rabbit when they are overrun with the creatures and reminds him that he has no time for fences on his land. During a simple lunch of bread and sausage, Cluzet captures a snake slithering through the undergrowth and tells Scandel about the warning chirrups of the warblers that keep watch over the woodland.

Karsenti is content for Scandel to spend his time with Cluzet, even though they often get up to mischief by stealing Frédéric Saurel's barrow when he stops for a nap and hoisting it up in a tree. But she reminds him not to let Elmosnino see them together. She also tells him to keep out of the manor house, as Berléand detests children. But Scandel can't resist sneaking through an open door and he is looking at the animal trophies on the staircase when Berléand spots him. He seems to accept Karsenti's reassurance that it won't happen again. But, when she informs her husband that Scandel's father was killed during the Great War, Elmosnino suspects she is not telling the whole truth, especially when she proves so evasive whenever the boy's mother is mentioned.

Cluzet shows Scandel how to tie a fishing fly and stations him on a bridge over the river to guide his casting in pursuit of a large salmon. They succeed in snaring the fish and Scandel is decorated with the lure on his pullover for catching it in his net. During lunch, Cluzet dismisses religion and curses the arrival of some Gypsy caravans, as he hates the way they steal from Berléand. When Scandel points out that he does the same thing, Cluzet gives him a glass of wine to change the subject and he is still feeling a little tiddly when Karsenti serves her husband a plate of trotters and ears that causes the boy to flee from the table with his hand over his mouth.

While Karsenti is at the market tearing a strip off Cluzet for getting a child drunk, Scandel fishes in a shady bend of the river. He fails to hear Ilona Cabrera sneaking up behind him and hiding his pail and, when he turns to see her skipping away through the long grass, he is immediately enchanted by her. Following her to the camp, he watches her dance when Berléand comes to greet the Gypsy king, Affif Ben Badra. He is still thinking about her when Elmosnino catches him laying traps with Cluzet's knife and he is frogmarched back to the cottage, where Elmosnino warns Karsenti that Scandel will be dispatched back to Paris unless he behaves. Moreover, he informs Cluzet that Scandel has welched on him and vows to use his evidence in front of a judge.

Concerned rather than intimidated, Cluzet goes about his business and chats to Berléand when he finds him gathering mushrooms. The count has taken a shine to Scandel since they discussed stags on the trophy staircase and they the boy mentioned seeing a fabled 18-point monarch roaming the grounds. But Karsenti has to keep reminding Scandel to mind his Ps and Qs and scolds him when he claims to have seen Berléand's daughter riding her horse in the woods, as she died many years ago and the mere mention of her name pains the old gentleman. Yet Berléand confides to Cluzet that Scandel reminds him of someone and they agree that it's a shame that Elmosnino has clamped down on him and made him start school.

Upset by Elmosnino's lie that he has squealed on his friend, Scandel readily conspires with Karsenti when Elmosnino announces that he is going out to catch him poaching with lamps. While Karsenti gets Elmosnino drunk and lures him into the bedroom, Scandel goes in search of Cluzet, who upbraids him for sneaking up on him in the dark, as he could easily have taken a bullet. He is grateful for the warning, however, and sends Scandel home with Saurel.

Shortly afterwards, Scandel breaks into the desk drawer where Karsenti keeps her secret things and reads a letter from a woman with the same name as his late mother. He asks if Karsenti's friend is her mother, but she is too flustered to reply and he goes in search of Saurel, who might know about someone named Mathilde, as he has spent his entire life on the estate. The kindly peasant recalls giving a young girl a ride in his barrow many years before, but she died and this revelation prompts Scandel to visit the small churchyard, where he finds a tombstone bearing his mother's name. Cluzet finds him sitting beside the grave and advises the boy to focus on living to the full rather than fretting about the past, as life passes far too quickly.

Berléand's wastrel son, Thomas Durand, comes for a visit with some bright young friends and the old man seeks sanctuary in the stables. Scandel asks about an ailing white horse in one of the stalls and, when Berléand reveals that nobody has ridden it since his daughter died, Scandel tells him his surname and the count falls to the floor in shock. He is grateful to Karsenti for bringing the boy home, but nothing more is said about the matter, as rumours have spread about the monarch returning to its glen and Berléand and Elmosnino are bent on catching it.

After reading an essay he has written about the stag, Scandel's teacher, Murielle Huet des Aunay, implores him to say nothing of its whereabouts, as she thinks it's a noble creature and that it would be a crime if someone shot it for sport. Fortunately, Berléand feels the same way after a lengthy chase that sees the stag lose the hounds by wading through the river. Cluzet brings the news to Scandel at the school gates and Huet des Aunay joins them in gazing on the beast, as it recovers from its exertions. But Berléand is thrown from his horse while riding home and, while he is bedridden, Durand determines to bag the trophy for himself and orders Elmosnino to flush it out with the hounds. When the gamekeeper protests in front of Durand's friends, he is reminded of his place with a sneer before the party goes out to shoot geese.

When Durand kills a heron by mistake, Cabrera puts a hex on him and he drives to the Gypsy camp and orders them to leave. When Ben Badra protests, Durand informs him that things will be different when he inherits the estate and Scandel learns from Cabrera's grandmother, Claudine Baschet, that the count had always protected them because he had been in love with a Gypsy girl in his youth. His parents had forced them apart and, as Karsenti tells Scandel when he gets home, he had made the same mistake with his daughter, after she had fallen in love with a railroad navvy. They had eloped to Paris, where Scandel had been born shortly after his father had died in the trenches. But the doctors had been unable to save his mother and he had been sent to an orphanage because Berléand couldn't live with the shame of his actions.

He has time to apologise to Scandel for betraying his mother and Karsenti takes him to the lakeside chapel where she is buried. But, no sooner has Berléand passed away than Durand starts to throw his weight around. In addition to fencing off the property to keep intruders out, he declares his ambition to kill the monarch, as it was partly responsible for his father's death. Cluzet is appalled by both decisions, as fencing the estate will restrict the movement of larger animals. But, while Elmosnino dislikes Durand, he has his job to do and he dons his scarlet hunting tunic and blows his horn to guide the pack. However, when Cluzet fires at Durand as he takes aim at the stag, Elmosnino pushes him over when he tries to shoot the poacher. Moreover, he smiles with pride when Scandel leads the hounds away and the old foes even manage to exchange a joke when Durand fires his gamekeeper.

But Durand has a surprise in store when a lawyer arrives to read Berléand's will, as not only has he granted the Gypsies free access in perpetuity to the estate, but he has also left the manor to Scandel, leaving Durand in sole possession of a vinegar factory in Orleans to provide a modest income. As Karsenti and Elmosnino have also been given the deeds to their cottage, everyone is happy, including Cluzet, who is also made a gamekeeper and, as the film ends, he joins with his employer and neighbours to steer some wild boar away from the crops and vineyard.

Despite the hazy glow over this closing sequence and the wildlife images accompanying the credits, it's hard to ignore the fate that awaits the population of this part of France in just 13 years time. But Vanier clearly intends this to be a happy ending, in which the locals are able to retain a stake in their land rather than have it pass to a feckless playboy who would exploit it solely for his own benefit. The political resonance of such a viewpoint is merely tangential, however, as Vanier and Tonnerre invoke the spirit of Marcel Pagnol for purely nostalgic purposes.

At times, they allow their tale to meander and don't strive particularly hard to guard its secrets. Moreover, they pack too much contrivance into the final third, with Durand being a feebly one-dimensional villain. Cluzet and Elmosnino's well-matched adversaries are far more rounded, but even they slip into the background, as Scandel concentrates on uncovering the truth about his ancestry. Indeed, only the kindly Karsenti remains a constant, as the photogenic youth rises to his rightful place. Yet, even this Gallic Fauntleroy is rather sketchily limned, as his rough city edges slide away and he grows increasingly to the manor born.

As one might expect of a heritage picture of this kind, the production values are admirable, with Éric Guichard's views of the house and grounds almost giving the action a fairytale feel. Production designer Sébastian Birchler does a nice job of the gamekeeper's cottage and the poacher's boat, while Adélaïde Gosselin's costumes stop well short of shabby chic. Similarly, Armand Amar's gentle orchestral score resists the temptation to gild the engagingly restrained narrative with emotional swirls. Consequently, while it may be overly cosy in its evocation of both time and place, this should find a ready audience among those raised on Sunday evening serials.

Guadeloupe-born comedian Éric Judor is best known for his collaboration with Ramzy Bedia in comic romps like Charles Nemes's Don't Die Too Hard! (2001) and Philippe Haim's Lucky Luke and the Daltons (2004). The pair co-directed Seuls Two (2008), while Judor took the helm alone for La Tour 2 contrôle infernale (2016). But there's no sign of Bedia in Problemos, which sees Judor star and direct in an end-of-days scenario scripted by Noé Debré and Blanche Gardin. Proving conclusively that jokes don't always translate or travel well, this satire on New Age ideologies gets off to a rocky start and flounders around in an increasingly tiresome bid to find something to ruffle, if not exactly offend everyone.

Éric Judor is far from happy that wife Célia Rosich has talked him into spending a weekend at the alternative community where her former yoga teacher, Michel Nabokoff, resides. The couples teenage daughter, Marie Helmer, is even more annoyed when she is forced to hand over her tablet because all electronic gadgets are banned from the site because one of the group suffers from electro-sensitivity. When Helmer makes a scene and screams, Judor unleashes a torrent of verbal abuse that results in everyone staring at him and he takes an immediate dislike to Nabokoff when he patronises him.

Once this prologue is completed, Act One, `The Best Tomatoes in the Region', begins with Helmer creating another commotion when she refuses to play with young Zakaria Benyahya and his mother, Blanche Gardin, makes it clear that she disapproves of Judor and his attitude towards their retreat. While Helmer is allowed to leave the perimeter for 15 minutes to calm down with her tablet, Judor and Rosich go for a walk around an area of wetland that the group is bent on stopping becoming a water park. Suddenly, riot police appear and fire tear gas into the compound. A local activist urges them to negotiate rather than blockade themselves in. But Dorothée Pousséo peels off her top and dances in defiance, while her friends chant `resistance' and `revolution' at the cops.

Needing some time to himself, Judor slips away from the family and bumps into Nabokoff's 16 year-old bikini-clad daughter, Claire Chust, who has come for a two-week visit. She asks Judor to fetch some cooking-oil from the kitchen to help her tan and he hurries back to the camp with a leering grin on his face. However, no sooner has he started massaging Chust's back than Helmer appears with her tablet and starts filming her father in compromising action. Nabokoff also comes through the undergrowth and chides Chust for wasting precious foodstuffs.

Having escaped censure, Judor finds himself upsetting the group again at dinner, when he shouts at a dog that has stolen his chicken. He is reprimanded by Marc Fraize and his adoring wife Blandine Ruiz for not treating animals with due respect, as they roamed the planet before humans and we should be grateful to them for allowing us to share their home. But the disdain is even more vehement when Judor mocks Gardin's song-filled seminar on alternatives to sanitary towels and he is branded a chauvinist oaf. Fraize becomes emotional while calling for gender equality and Gardin and Pousséo rip into Judor again when Rosich complains about having to wax her bikini line. They suggest that he should abandon outdated proprietorial attitudes and suggest he embraces polyamory. Rosich shoots him a dirty look when he doesn't dismiss this proposal out of hand and Judor is once again subjected to criticism when he flinches at an elderly woman offering her services.

At that moment, they are summoned to the barricade, as the police cordon has been lifted and Nabokoff is suspicious that the authorities are trying to catch them off their guard. He suggests that they put on a show of harmony and Rosich enters into the spirit by announcing that they are going to stay for a fortnight. Judor is horrified, but his protests are shouted down by Fraize, who urges them to shun the `Babylonian' urban bubble, in which supermarkets have no exits and crisps have artificially added crunchiness.

Judor is wondering what on earth he is talking about when Chust pipes up that everyone on Twitter is discussing `panda mix'. Snatching the phone, Judor realises that the hot topic is a pandemic that has wiped out millions of people since spreading from Venezuela. They deduce that this is probably why the cops have vanished and Nabokoff, Fraize and Eddy Leduc volunteer to go to the nearby village of Lantenay to investigate.

Venturing into the outside world, they drive slowly along the country lane until they come to a pile of dead bodies beside a road block. Fraize goes to check on them and promptly collapses, leaving Nabokoff to console the grieving Ruiz. Gardin is criticised for dismissing everything on social media as drivel, but reasserts her position when Nabokoff declares the next morning to be the first day of the New World and she brands it `Oonday the krisken of Tarkoon'. A despairing Judor begins to feel he is surrounded by idiots and fears for the worst when Nabokoff's suggestion that they should abandon all imposed laws and start making their own is approved by a show of jazz hands.

This decision takes us into Act Two, `Tonight You Don't Sleep in the Tent', which opens with a `circle of speech' discussion about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leduc is unhappy that Youssef Hajdi has returned from a foraging expedition in the woods and everyone takes cover in a large tent until Hajdi agrees to undergo a period of quarantine to prove he isn't contaminated. As Nabokoff knows the virus kills instantaneously, such precautions seem preposterous. But no one is prepared to take a chance and they also insist that shaman Bun Hay Mean should also remain outside the sanctuary because he smells.

While preparing dinner, Rosich and Pousséo upset Gardin by inquiring about Benyahya's gender and she claims that she has no right to impose a personality upon her child. But the camp is disturbed soon afterwards by the sound of loud music and everyone is astonished to discover that Hajdi has built himself a magnificent treehouse. They are impressed that he has made his own glass window and, as they prowl round by storm lantern, they realise that he has also erected a windmill to generate power. As Bun sleeps beneath the stilts on which the edifice rests, Hajdi invites his neighbours to see what they can find at the dump, as the kind of gadgets they had forsworn might come in useful.

Leduc finds two sheep and announces that he intends raising a flock. However, everyone is too hungry to consent to his plan and he draws on the killing skills learned on duty in Syria to slaughter one of the animals for the communal table. After supper, Pousséo announces that the meat has given her a blood rush and Gardin's brother, Arnaud Henriet, takes up her offer of some canoodling. But the siblings fall out when Henriet sees nothing wrong in Chust using the exercise bike that Hajdi has attached to his water heater and shows a little too much interest in the moans of ecstasy that the teenager emits while having a hot shower.

Furious when Henriet accuses her of being a repressed lesbian, Gardin asks Nabokoff to reprimand her brother and force him into doing some chores. Meanwhile, Leduc has also been seduced by the prospect of getting clean and he agrees to paint Hajdi's windows in return for some hot water. His bellows of pleasure also ring around the camp and Gardin accuses Hajdi of sex slavery before she begins bickering with Henriet again.

Concerned by these internal divisions, Nabokoff goes to see Hajdi at the start of Act Three, `That Wasn't Our Conception of Society.' Once inside the house, however, Nabokoff is mightily impressed and also takes a shower. As he returns to the camp, he bumps into Judor, who is puzzled why Chust is talking to a tree. Nabokoff explains that he convinced his daughter to come and stay by informing her that she would be on a reality TV show and that she thinks cameras are embedded in some of the trees. Spotting an opportunity to exploit the naive teen, Judor tells her that he is from the network and can guarantee that she will get more viewer votes that Pousséo if she sleeps with him.

Unsure what to do for the best, Chust seeks out Bun, who is spaced out on datura. He makes some dubious remarks about black men that echo Hajdi's earlier comments about Asians before slipping into a fatal coma. The group hold a funeral service and float Bun's body down river on a decorated bier. However, Gardin blames Hajdi for failing to keep an eye on him and the others tell her to cut Hajdi some slack as he is entitled to live as he pleases. Moreover, they have all benefited from his generosity. But his little fiefdom survives no longer than Leduc, who gets swept away while trying to free Bun's bier from some rocks, as Benyahya causes a fire by throwing a stone through the window and Gardin has to stop Hajdi from throttling her child.

Disowned by the others, Hajdi leaves the camp and Fraize's ghost appears to advise Nabokoff to go north in searching for him. No one joins the expedition, however, so Judor mooches around the compound in a bid to determine whether Benyaliya is male or female. Unfortunately, Gardin catches him in the act and denounces him as a pervert. Chust also accuses him of trying to groom her and Gardin seizes the opportunity to call an election for new leadership. Judor is dismayed when Rosich abandons Nabokoff to support Gardin and stalks into the wilds to find Hajdi. He has taken up residence in a hole in the ground and has concocted a taser to catch rabbits. Still smarting with Gardin, Judor borrows the device to teach her a lesson and finds her trying to persuade Leduc to sleep with her so they can save the species.

Having incapacitated Gardin, Judor puts her behind bars. But, when Chust finds Nabokoff's head on a spike in the woods, he realises that a rival gang of feral survivors must be on the rampage and releases Gardin to negotiate with them, as camp leader. As her friends watch from the bushes, Gardin is seized and butchered by the ringleaders and they blame Judor for her death. They demand he comes up with a plan of action, but he can think of nothing other than a wall to protect them.

He tries to boost morale with a speech about honouring the memory of those lost. But he forgets to mention Fraize, whose ghost warns against the evils of war. As everyone starts singing `Lollipop' by The Chordettes. Victor smiles at the peaceful sentiments of these well-intentioned kooks. But he insists that their only hope of survival lies in wasting their foe and the picture ends with a bravura assault on the marauders' camp.

During the closing credits, a cutaway reveals that Judor was in the process of coercing Chust into sleeping with him when she found her father's head on a spike. Designed to sign off on one last near-the-knuckle gag, it merely serves to remind us how ill-judged this entire enterprise is. The risible storyline, crass caricatures and lazy satire are bad enough, but the incessant sexism and throwaway racist banter are unpardonable and it adds to the sense of unease that Blanche Gardin helped write the script.

The performances are spirited, while cinematographer Vincent Muller conveys something of the camp's aura. But the only notable contribution comes from production designer Arnaud Roth, who revels in filling Hajda's luxury retreat with quirky mod cons. Little else about this resistibly smug farrago will linger long in the memory, however.

A graduate of café-théâtre, television and stand-up comedy, Florence Foresti has spent a decade taking offbeat character parts in such local releases as Anne-Marie Étienne's Si c'était lui... (2007) and Éric Lavaine's Barbecue (2014). But she demonstrates that she has the personality and presence to carry a weighty drama in costume designer Anne-Gaëlle Daval's directorial debut, De Plus Belle, which examines how women who have beaten cancer come to terms with how they and other people see their bodies.

Despite having been told she is in remission from breast cancer, 40 year-old Lyon single mother Florence Foresti is struggling to throw herself into a night of clubbing with her friends and younger sister, Olivia Bonamy. Feeling uncomfortable in a long, black wig, she slips outside and calls doctor brother Jonathan Cohen at one in the morning to make an urgent appointment, so that he can reassure her that she really is clear after a four-year battle.

On returning to the nightclub, Foresti dismisses the attention of handsome stranger Mathieu Kassovitz, as she thinks he is far too young for her and has only come over to flirt with Bonamy. When he insists that he is interested in her, Foresti explains that she isn't looking for a man at the moment, especially one with a talent to amuse and infuriate her at the same time.

Later that morning, Cohen confirms that Foresti is cured and suggests that having a love affair might be a good way of channelling her energies now that she doesn't have to focus on beating a disease. Foresti declares that she has enough to do raising teenage daughter Jeanne Astier. But she is less than impressed when her mother buys her a box of tampons as a gift to celebrate becoming a woman and informs Foresti that her wig makes her look like Morticia Addams. The next day, therefore, Foresti ventures into a chic wig shop run by Nicole Garcia, who gives her a makeover and reminds her that 7/10ths of anyone's beauty is made up on refinements.

Pleased with her new look, Foresti shows it to her fussy florist mother, Josée Drevon, while they work on the bouquets for a funeral. She thinks that Foresti should think less about herself and could benefit from confronting some real problems by joining her in volunteering to help the poor. Trying to remain civil, Foresti is almost relieved to get a phone call from Kassovitz and agrees to a date when she can't think of enough credible excuses to put him off.

On her way home, she returns the bobbed wig to Garcia. However, she is in her upstairs studio giving a body image seminar to a group of middle-aged women who are required to gaze at themselves in a mirror while caressing their faces and arms in an effort to remind themselves what it felt like to be beautiful and desired. As she is too timid to leave, Foresti finds herself in the line-up, as Garcia urges the class to reclaim themselves as women. Initially, she feels self-conscious. But, as she looks around at women of all ages, shapes and sizes, she begins to relax and enjoy the sensation.

The next day, Foresti teeters along some cobbles in a pair of turquoise heels and waits for Kassovitz outside a café. When he arrives on a motorbike, however, he tells her that there has been a change of plan and hands her a helmet. Clambering on to the back of the bike, Foresti clings on, as Kassovitz heads for the retirement home where his grandmother lives. Perrette Souplex adores Kassovitz and reassures Foresti that he's a good boy really. They go to the canteen for lunch, where Souplex informs friends Michel Charell and Claude Leveque that Kassovitz is an expert when it comes to women and that they should listen to his tips. He tells them to look around and urges them to read the body language of the female residents, as they want to feel affection as much as they do.

Foresti confirms that women like to be touched and she smiles at Kassovitz for making Souplex and her pals feel so good about themselves. However, the amorous mood is shattered when one of the seniors blows his nose loudly and Kassovitz despairs at the talent he has to work with. On arriving home, Foresti thanks him for a fun day and tries to hand back the helmet. But he urges her to keep it, as it's going to come in useful.

Unsure of her feelings, Foresti says nothing about Kassovitz to Drevon, who is trying to set her up with a gap-toothed organist at her church. She criticises her daughter for working too slowly in their nursery greenhouse and suggests that she takes a leaf out of Bonamy's book. But Foresti loses her temper and says she is tired of being compared with her beautiful sister and wishes that people would realise that she can't pass a reflective surface without being reminded of her own deficiencies.

Needing a confidence boost, therefore, she returns to Garcia's workshop and dons a tight black vest, leggings and strappy heels to shuffle, stomp, shout and clasp her elbows in an exercise designed to channel aggression into strength. During the cool-down session, Garcia informs the class that she intends to put on a show that will require them to learn striptease techniques. However, Foresti refuses to undress in public, especially if her mother is in the audience. But Garcia reassures her that it will be an empowering experience and the rest of the group seem keen to give it a try.

That night, Astier helps Foresti choose a dress to return the crash helmet to Kassovitz. She takes a ferry to his part of town and he is disappointed that she has brought the helmet back. He makes tea and jokes that he has a `listening and sympathy' routine that is guaranteed to lure women into bed. Forest admits that she hasn't been with anyone for three years and dances with him when he puts Joe Cocker's `You Are So Beautiful' on the stereo. Kassovitz lifts her off the floor and Foresti clings to him. But, she feels the need to take stock in the bathroom and emerges to tease Kassovitz about the number of products he has purchased from the shopping channel. He protests that he is an insomniac and has bought tons of gym equipment and kitchen appliances he simply doesn't need.

At that moment, his grandmother calls to ask if he has snapped up any bargains and Foresti is touched by the fact that he has purchased magic sweepers and wonder massagers to maintain a connection with Souplex. However, she backs away when Kassovitz tries to put an arm around her and feels flustered as she says her goodbyes. Sitting on the quayside, Foresti wonders what to do, as she likes Kassovitz, but doesn't feel ready to let him see (and judge) her body.

Seeking reassurance, she makes an appointment with Cohen and ribs him about a nurse who clearly has a crush on him. He insists he is too busy with his family for any distractions and Forest is surprised when the lunchtime discussion among Garcia's class turns to relationships. They have moved into a larger hall with a stage and Foresti is appalled when Garcia shows up with bodybuilder Victor Chambon and cleaner Alexander Michel, who will be their audience for their first-time strips. Farida Ouchani, Sabine Pakora, Claudette Walker, Murelle Boura, Sarah Espour and Angélique Vergara all seem up for the challenge, however, and the elderly Walker is the first to take the plunge.

Gripped by panic, Foresti rushes into the washroom to compose herself. She wants to run away, but knows that she needs to face up to her situation and she emerges with renewed resolve and, even though Chambon keeps his head on the table, she feels proud of herself when Michael joins her classmates in applauding her routine. Buoyed by the experience, she meets Kassovitz for ice cream beside the river. She asks why he collects girls and he reveals that he was teased at school for having a nose like Nicolas Sarkozy and now feels better about himself. Forest examines his nose and compliments him and he kisses her as the sun sets over the city.

Just as she starts to feel she has turned a corner, however, Foresti learns that her cancer has returned. Cohen lies beside her to comfort her and suggests that she has a double mastectomy. Foresti tries to put on a brave face and requests implants like Angelina Jolie's. She also recalls how her brother had climbed into her bed during childhood storms and he urges her to be brave because things could get pretty frightening. When Kassovitz calls round, however, she refuses to answer the door without her wig, even when he claims that he wants to know everything about her. Eventually, her silence prompts him to give up and Foresti slumps to the floor in self-pity.

She also tells Garcia that she is pulling out of the show. But she gives Foresti a pep talk and suggests that she should view her striptease as a farewell celebration of her breasts. Reluctantly, Forest agrees to stay with the group, but she is still feeling fragile when Bonamy criticises her for not pulling her weight at work. Fuming that she is entitled to a private life, Bonamy leaves her sister to cash up alone. Taking advantage of the space in the darkened greenhouse, Forest practices her striptease and removes her bra just as Bonamy returns to apologise. She is upset because she knows that her husband is cheating on her and they ponder the male fascination with breasts after Foresti explains what she is doing and why.

The sisters hug, as Bonamy offers to swap bodies and they meet up again a few days later for a family lunch. Cohen chides Foresti for keeping the news from Drevon and she promises to broach the subject while cooking. However, she storms off when Drevon criticises her for snapping too many green beans and she sits with niece Zoe Laroche, while she draws herself as a princess. Trying to make conversation, Cohen asks about Kassovitz and Foresti confesses that she broke up with him to avoid him learning the truth about her illness. Asking Drevon to make his favourite French fries to distract her, Cohen dispatches his sister to make up with Kassovitz. But, as they chat in his living-room, a girl descends the stairs in her underwear and Foresti leaves an invitation to the show on the sideboard before taking her leave.

Returning to the lunch table, Forest finds herself having to defend Astier when Drevon criticises her for wearing make-up and a t-shirt with a blasphemous slogan. However, her ire switches to Cohen's teenage daughter, Lorraine Thebault, who is stoned after smoking a joint on the garden swing. Cohen tries to keep the peace, but Foresti congratulates Astier for having the confidence to express herself at 15 and wishes that she had been able to do the same.

After lunch, however, Foresti attempts to patch things up and tells Drevon that the cancer has returned. She asks why her mother had stopped her from attending ballet classes as a child and she insists that she had only been trying to spare her taunts, as she had been so podgy and the other girls would have been merciless. Foresti persists and inquires whether Drevon thinks she's ugly. But she explains that she looks like her late father and reveals that she had never understood why such a handsome man would have chosen someone as plain as she was. She had spent their entire married life waiting for him to betray her and she had deeply resented how insecure this made her feel. Yet, he had remained faithful until his dying day and she now values Forest because she is such a clear reminder of the man she had loved.

Touched by the idea that she has a filial duty to keep her father's spirit alive, Foresti commits to the show. As she puts on a blue feathered head-dress with the audience taking its seats, however, she gets a phone call from Astier saying that she is stranded at a bus stop in the sticks and needs picking up. Promising Garcia that she will be back in time, Foresti goes to find her daughter, who explains that she had refused to sleep with her boyfriend when she went to study at his house and he had thrown her out. Proud her Astier for standing up for herself, Foresti calls Cohen to collect them. He already has Bonamy and Drevon in the car and the latter has to intervene when the sisters start bickering about Cohen's driving. Bonamy complains that Cohen is Drevon's favourite and Foresti pulls a face when her mother insists that she loves them all equally.

Arriving back at the venue, Foresti rejoins her fellow performers, as her family shuffle into their seats. The lights dim and `Gopher Mambo' plays over the speakers, as Foresti appears in a jungle setting as a bird of paradise. The others strut their stuff about the stage and remove their bustiers. But, just as everyone unhooks their bras and turns their back on the audience, Foresti spots Kassovitz lurking at the rear of the auditorium. Facing front, she pulls off her wig to reveal her bald scalp and Drevon applauds her courage and confides to Astier that she saw a lot worse when she was at boarding school. Foresti beams with relief at having survived this ordeal, but she sees Kassovitz slip away and doesn't expect to see him again, as she accepts the congratulations of her family in the foyer.

Some time later, Foresti is on a hospital ward waiting for her operation. Cohen arrives with a wheelchair and promises he will ensure she gets the full Jolie treatment. Cohen reprimands them for being vulgar and they make her smile by taunting her for being such a strict and disapproving mother. Before they set off, Cohen places the wig on his sister's head and they venture into the corridor. Much to Foresti's surprise, she sees Kassovitz waiting for her. He asks if her breasts had been nice and she says his hands would have been too big for them. So, he hold up his span and tells Cohen to produce something that would make a nice fit. Kassovitz puts his hand on Foresti's shoulder and their fingers intertwine, as she is wheeled towards the operating theatre.

Reminiscent of latterday woman's pictures like Herbert Ross's Steel Magnolias (1989), this is the kind of French feature that used to be snapped up for a Hollywood remake. It would certainly be intriguing to see how someone like Sarah Silverman, Kristen Wiig or Amy Poehler would handle the Foresti role, while Shirley MacLaine or Jane Fonda would be perfect for the part of the judgemental mother. But, fun though such re-casting games are, the heyday of the Euro reboot has passed and, besides, there are too few frontline American women directors who would be considered a sufficiently safe pair of hands to turn this feel-good weepie into a box-office hit.

In the event of a remake, Anne-Gaëlle Daval's storyline might need tidying up a bit to refine some of the more obviously melodramatic contrivances and to make more of Garcia and the members of her self-help group. But the body image theme is explored with trenchancy and tact, right down to the role that mothers play in their daughter's sense of self. Similarly, while the romantic subplot doesn't quite ignite because Kassovitz's soft-centred womaniser is too much of a cipher, the family dynamic is thoughtfully realised. Admittedly, Bonamy and Cohen's siblings and Astier's daughter could do with fleshing out, but Foresti makes the most of a well-written role, with her self-deprecating wit keeping both glibness and mawkishness at bay. Prioritising plot over insight, Daval directs steadily. But, while Philippe Guibert conveys something of the look and feel of Lyon, the cinematography is rather perfunctory, as are Nicolas Migot's production design and Alexis Rault's score. Yet, this is a well-meaning and frankly affirmational film that says a lot of important things that many men, as well as women, could do with hearing.