La dame de Malacca: Old School Melodrama with a Heavy Sigh

Is it worth your time?

If you like movies that feel like a dusty, pressed flower kept in an old book, you’ll probably find something to like here. It’s not for the action crowd, and if you need your dialogue snappy and modern, stay away. This is for the people who want to sit in a dark room and watch Edwige Feuillère carry the entire screen with nothing but her eyes.

The whole thing feels a bit like Shame in how it traps its characters in their own rigid social cages. You can tell pretty early on that nobody is getting out of this without a few scars.

The colonial atmosphere

There’s this one scene where Audrey is just navigating a garden, and the lighting is doing all this heavy lifting. You can practically feel the humidity sticking to the actors' clothes. It’s oddly specific, the way the movie lingers on the textures of the surroundings while the characters are busy having these quiet, devastating conversations.

The prince is meant to be this tragic, heavy figure, but sometimes he just comes off as tired. Like, really tired. There’s a moment near the middle where he sits down, and you can almost hear the furniture creak under the weight of his royal problems. It’s a bit much, honestly.

The performances

Edwige Feuillère is doing some heavy lifting. She’s got this way of looking at the camera that makes you feel like you’re eavesdropping on a secret. Bernard Blier is in here too, looking like he’s constantly wondering how he ended up in this particular part of the map.

• The costume changes are frequent, almost distractingly so.
• The silence between the dialogue feels longer than it needs to be.
• The ending lands with a thud that I’m still not sure was intentional.

It reminds me a bit of the suffocating domesticity in Guilty Parents, though obviously in a much different setting. Everyone is polite, and everyone is miserable. It’s a very French kind of misery, if that makes sense.

I found myself staring at the background extras more than once. There’s a guy in the back of the market scene who spends about two full minutes just arranging the same pile of fruit. It’s weirdly hypnotic. Maybe he was bored, too? Who knows.

The film isn't trying to be a masterpiece, and that’s its saving grace. It’s just a story about people in the wrong place at the wrong time. It doesn't need to be profound to be worth a watch on a rainy Sunday. Just don't go in expecting a lighthearted romp through Malaysia. It’s definitely not that.