Woody Allen likes telling stories. It’s what made his stand-up comedy sets so distinctive. He didn’t simply recite a string of jokes (although he is a masterful joke writer); he told a story and punctuated it with hilarious one-liners. He clearly still enjoys the process of inventing characters and putting them through their paces. It happens that his latest effort was made in Paris and features French actors speaking in their native tongue…but it’s not surprising that the narrative, which deals with a fraught marital relationship, was concocted by the same man who made Crimes and Misdemeanors, Match Point, and Blue Jasmine.
His heroine, a young and beautiful woman (Lou de Laâge), bumps into an old friend (Niels Schneider) she hasn’t seen since high school. He confesses that he always had a crush on her and persuades her to join him for a drink… then a lunch…and then another lunch. She hides these trysts from her husband (Melvil Poupaud), a prosperous businessman with a possessive streak. Allen embroiders this seemingly simple premise with a series of expansive details that dare us to question each character’s values and decisions as they navigate the winding road that lays ahead of them.
Chance and circumstance are the key components of Coup de Chance, which translates as “stroke of luck.” If his protagonist was happily married she might not agree to meet up with her onetime schoolmate. If her spouse was not so controlling her increasingly suspicious behavior might not pique his curiosity. If her mother (Valérie Lemercier) wasn’t a welcome presence in her son-in-law’s swell apartment the whole matter might resolve itself. That’s what makes Allen such a good tale-spinner: he sets up situations that draw us in and casts the right actors to bring these characters to life.
The celebrated cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, who has collaborated with Allen on five previous features, guarantees that those actors and their settings are handsomely shot. But I miss the days when Dick Hyman provided Woody Allen films with wonderfully compatible scores. I don’t mind “needle drops” but the director uses Herbie Hancock’s “Cantaloupe Island” and the Modern Jazz Quartet’s “Bags’ Groove” a few times too many.
Would anyone pay particular attention to a French import about love and deception without well-known stars if Woody Allen’s name weren’t attached to it? Perhaps not, but since this is his work—recognizably so—and it shows a sure hand guiding the proceedings, it is worth seeing, and marking as his fiftieth film. I, for one, am looking forward to his next.
