L'amour l’après-midi (Love in the Afternoon)

The protagonist, Frédéric, lives in a Parisian suburb and, on his daily train journey to the office, reads not a newspaper but a novel, so that he can escape into another world. Although he is a law-abiding citizen, content with his uneventful yet pleasant life, he is also an incorrigible dreamer, particularly when it comes to women. As a bachelor, he used to live it up, but since his marriage his escapades have been confined to fantasies.

Rohmer playfully transforms these fantasies into a tribute to actresses from his earlier Contes moraux. As Frédéric strolls through the streets of Paris, admiring the beauty of passing women, he is suddenly seduced by a series of actresses from his earlier films: Haydée Politoff from La Collectionneuse, Françoise Fabian and Marie-Christine Barrault from Ma nuit chez Maud, and Laurence de Monaghan, Béatrice Romand and Aurora Cornu from Le Genou de Claire. Frédéric achieves this thanks to a mysterious amulet, a detail that hints at the subtle supernatural dimension that often creeps into Rohmer’s fiction.

It all remains confined to daydreams, until he meets the promiscuous Chloé (Zouzou), the unconventional seductress who threatens to undermine his marital happiness.

Chloé, the ex-girlfriend of a close friend whom he has lost touch with, suddenly reappears in his life and throws his domestic stability into disarray. Only temporarily, as it turns out, for his marriage is, after all, resilient. It is precisely this temporary confusion that Rohmer portrays so beautifully. Although Frédéric is happily married and has two young children, his life lacks any great passions. He does not suffer from this, as he is unaware of this void – until Chloé unexpectedly appears in his life.

She brings fantasy and a chaste form of sexual tension, but is also somewhat of the ‘emmerdeuse’ that graces many French comedies: fickle and highly prone to ups and downs. Sometimes she turns up out of the blue in his office; other times she disappears for a week without a word. Despite their obvious differences – there is even a brief reference to their social divide, given that she earns her living as a barmaid and shop assistant in a boutique – he feels at ease with her.

Yet there is his wife, whom he loves above all else. The strength of their family life is further emphasised by the natural way in which he interacts with his wife and baby. This is hardly surprising: Rohmer, always seeking a high degree of realism in his fiction, searched for a long time for a suitable actress for the role, until he finally asked his leading actor if his own wife, Françoise Verley, would like to play his fictional wife and to include their own baby in the film as well. In a DVD extra, Bernard Verley affectionately describes the director as ‘Machiavellian’.

Bernard Verley, with his strikingly pale blue eyes, was cast by Rohmer on the basis of his portrayal of Christ in Buñuel’s La voie lactée (1969).

Another personal touch is the scene in which Frédéric and Chloé drink tea together in her flat: a ritual inextricably linked to Rohmer’s method of getting to know young actresses and gently moulding them into characters within his universe.

L’Amour l’après-midi is also a time capsule that takes us back to the 1970s: from Frédéric’s wardrobe (turtleneck jumpers, suits with wide lapels, flared trousers) to the dominant colour palette of brown and orange. The working routine, too – with Frédéric and his associate (Daniel Ceccaldi) surrounded by slightly flirtatious secretaries – exudes a spirit of the times that has since passed.

- Patrick Duynslaegher