Pomme d'amour: A strange, dusty relic of French cinema

Is this for you?

If you have a soft spot for grainy, old French black-and-white films that smell like mothballs and cigarettes, you’ll probably find something to love here. If you need a fast-paced thriller to keep your eyes glued to the screen, keep walking. You will be bored out of your mind within ten minutes.

There’s a scene about midway through where a character stares out a window for what feels like a literal century. I found myself checking the time on my phone twice. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just… really, really patient with itself.

The vibe is everything

The whole thing has this weird, hazy quality. Like watching a memory you aren't even sure is yours. Lucien Dayle does a lot with very little, mostly just squinting at the horizon while the camera lingers on the back of his head.

It’s not as snappy as El misterio de la Puerta del Sol, that’s for sure. It lacks that spark. But it’s got a weird, lonely charm that reminds me a bit of the moodiness found in Sadie Thompson, even if they aren't really the same breed of film at all.

• The dialogue is sparse, which is a mercy.
• The lighting makes everyone look like they’re hiding a secret.
• I think I saw a cat walk across the background of a serious scene. Nobody acknowledged it.

The pacing is all over the place. Sometimes it sprints, sometimes it just stops dead. You get the sense the director just liked a certain shot and decided to keep it, even if it didn't help the story move along. I can respect that kind of stubbornness.

It’s definitely a movie you watch on a rainy Sunday when you’ve already finished all your coffee. Don't expect to have your life changed. Just expect to sit there and wonder what people were actually doing with their time back then. It's fine. It's just... very French in the way it refuses to explain itself.

Anyway, I probably wouldn't watch it again, but I’m glad I did once. It’s a bit of a curio. 🍎