When Jeanne, a young actress, is told by her mother her father is an Indian she once met on the banks of the River Ganges she is upset. Soon after, she decides to leave everything behind (the play she is rehearsing, her companion who directs her in the play) and to fly to India where she hopes (and /or fears) to trace and meet her biological father.
From such a premise the viewer is entitled to expect a powerful work, some initiatory journey to the end of the world and to the bottom of the heart. Alas and alack! strong emotions are not invited.
Not that Benoît Jacquot's last movie is bad. It has at least two qualities, the first one being the excellent acting of omnipresent Ilsid Le Besco, the director's young muse. Almost always on the screen, she shows she believes in her role and she gives it her full throughout. She really deserves the Marcello Mastroianni Prize she was awarded at the last Venice Film Festival for her performance as the troubled young lady. The second good point of the film is its neo-realistic approach to the filming of the Indian scenes. Jeanne is most often followed by a steadicam operator as she walks through crowds of strangers or as she wanders in a country she does not understand. All the shots are taken in continuity, in an unsophisticated way, in real-life places where the passers-by, not being warned in advance, look at the camera in astonishment. What little fiction there is seems like carved out of raw reality. The trouble is that this device soon turns into a gimmick. There are too many scenes of the kind described above and not enough sequences showing what Jeanne thinks or feels and describing how she evolves. This strange new world should have been seen through Jeanne's eyes whereas the camera stays outside her all too often. What we see is Jeanne AND India not how India AFFECTS Jeanne. Fortunately there are a few exceptions to this basic rule, particularly the amusing scene featuring a couple of French homosexual tourists by a swimming-pool and the unexpected subsequent sequence of the visit to the nun. But, on the whole, being content to film the main character and the local people in real-life locations is not enough. Even the wedding sequence, beautiful to see as it is, remains frustratingly shallow. Why on earth didn't Jacquot make a pure documentary instead of opting for a fiction he failed to develop sufficiently?
"L'Intouchable" could have been a major work. As it is, it is just passable. Thanks to Ilsid Le Besco and the photogenic qualities of India the worst is avoided but only just.
