Boasting roughly a dozen features and a handful of short films, French cineaste Emmanuel Mouret has proven himself a peculiar taste and charm for specific circles of European arthouse enthusiasts. His rom-coms and dramas usually either follow a central figure in a series of different encounters, relationships, or situationships (Please, Please Me and Caprice) or in the fashion of a network narrative revolving around a group of characters/couples who, bored and dissatisfied with their imperfect lives, search for an ideal relationship (The Art of Love and Love Affair(s)). His most recent effort, Three Friends, belongs to the latter designation. Here, set in the beautiful atmosphere of Lyon — which, as the film suggests from the beginning, stands as a character in its own right — the film opens with the omniscient voiceover narration of Victor (Vincent Macaigne), who introduces the remaining characters, specifically the trio of Joan (India Hair), Alice (Camille Cottin), and Rebecca (Sara Forestier). Joan, an English language school teacher, is about to end her marriage with Victor, who later unexpectedly dies in a car accident. On the one hand, this lends a humorous layer to the occasional voiceover narrations; on the other, it later allows Joan to shape a more intimate new relationship with Thomas (Damien Bonnard), who also replaces Victor as the new teacher in school. Oscillating amidst all of this is the film’s depiction of the relationship between Alice (Joan’s colleague and friend) and Éric (Grégoire Ludig), who both have developed secret love affairs with other people: Alice with a well-known painter, and Éric with Alice’s best friend Rebecca.
It’s not a stretch to see how Three Friends, like most of Mouret’s other films, intricately and playfully explores the relationships of flawed characters in a manner not unlike Woody Allen — indeed, it’s possible to view the film as a unique, modern mix of Hannah and Her Sisters with the particular flair of contemporary French cinema, specifically something like the works of Mia Hansen-Løve. But apart from Mouret’s multi-layered and witty modes of storytelling, which due to the film’s colorful visual style and dialogue-heavy narrative give the impression of an illustrated novel, what stands out most here is the subtle balance that the director forms — or, more appropriately, rediscovers — between slice-of-life realism and a more controlled and refined artistic stylization. Mouret’s choreographic approach to mise en scène — frequently emphasized via classical scoring — builds itself upon physical and intellectual kineticism — we constantly see the characters in conversation as they walk alongside each other, even in a small room, or as they wander in and around Lyon’s broader cityscape — and further enhances the film’s thematic depth. The framing and composition of the interior scenes are meticulous, often using domestic architectural spaces like doorways and windows to create a frame-within-a-frame effect. A visual technique that, on the one hand, emphasizes the emotional distance between the characters and their inner lives, and, on the other, portrays them as both physically and emotionally enclosed within their spaces, is contrasted with and completed by the exterior scenes of public urban spaces (parks, bars, museums, art galleries, even a short trip to the countryside), to considerable painterly effect.
In many ways, then, Three Friends is a film about questioning and reflection. The characters spend much of the runtime contemplating and reevaluating their choices, desires, and the paths they have chosen. Whether in the form of a small chamber piece or as an orchestration of a greater urban symphony, the film catches its characters in different liminal spaces, in the personal dilemmas between what they want and what they have. This (tragi)comic tension drives much of Three Friends’ emotional weight, eschewing easy answers or moral conclusions in favor of embracing life’s fundamental uncertainty, as well as love, loss, friendship, and even benign disloyalty. The characters’ imperfections are not flaws to be fixed, but rather aspects of their humanity to be examined and understood. And as much as the trio of women tend to forgo open spaces, Mouret takes care to provide a fresh, effervescent atmosphere for his characters and viewers alike.
Published as part of IFFR 2025 — Dispatch 3.
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