Film Review | Berlin 2022: Juliette Binoche in Claire Denis’ ‘Both Sides of the Blade’ (‘Avec amour et acharnement’)

Claire Denis’ smart, moody, superbly acted melodrama — which premiered in Berlin under the international title Both Sides of the Blade but is slated for release in the United States by IFC as Fire — begins with a rapturous vacation interlude, with the central couple draped in each other’s arms in the sea as Tindersticks’ score washes over them. The scene is so gushingly sweet that it borders on kitsch. Denis, on the other hand, is a superb director who always understands exactly what she’s doing. The raw, agonising volatility of later developments, when the past comes through like a dagger to break the couple’s harmony, is made more striking by the bliss of the initial sequences.

Denis reunites with co-writer Christine Angot and fiery lead Juliette Binoche, whom she worked with on Let the Sunshine In. But that 2017 film’s talk-driven, intellectualised romantic comedy is a far cry from the bracingly visceral impact, real sensuality and grief of this smart new production, adapted from Angot’s novel. Thanks to Binoche and her fascinating co-stars Vincent Lindon and Grégoire Colin, the intimate intensity here is almost painful to behold.

Sara (Binoche) and Jean (Lindon) have been in a passionate relationship for ten years and live in an airy apartment with views of the Paris roofs. She hosts a current affairs show on Radio France Internationale, while he is still getting his bearings after serving a decade in prison for an unspecified offence. But Jean is steady and helpful, even if he struggles to give his mother Nelly (popular screen veteran Bulle Ogier) the time and attention she requires in the Vitry suburbs where he grew up. She has custody of Jean’s previous marriage’s mixed-race son Marcus (Issa Perica). The 15-year-old is failing school, facing expulsion, and stealing money from Nelly’s bank card.

Sara gets an emotional kick one day on her way to work when she spots her ex-partner François (Colin) riding a motorcycle. They were living together when she met François’ buddy Jean, and the three haven’t spoken since their relationships were rearranged. Soon later, François contacts Jean, a former rugby player, about working as a talent scout at a new sports agency with him. Jean is suspicious yet fascinated by the career potential, though he stays vague about the specifics with Sara, adding to her anxiety. “I was an ex-footballer, now I’m an ex-con,” he says, emphasising how badly he needs the job.

A director in complete command of her material conveys the continuously shifting interpersonal dynamics through fluent tone modulation. Brooding notes sneak into the score, and cinematographer Eric Gautier’s beautiful widescreen compositions become more jagged and angry as Sara and Jean’s contact breaks down.

Sara is hesitant to attend the sports agency opening because she is afraid of running into François again after so many years. When the ex-lovers finally meet, their connection is instantaneously revived, resulting in a furious argument in which Jean threatens to walk away.

Lindon, who is on a roll following his gutsy performance in Titane, is fantastic in these scenes, Jean’s coiled wrath bursting over into his impatience while dealing with Marcus. In other scenes, the actor plays against his hyper-masculine body in a delicate performance.

Sara becomes defensive, denying to Jean, and possibly to herself, that infractions are occurring, but effectively playing both sides as her resistance of François’ overtures becomes less convincing and her desire takes control. The psychologically astute script always looks at her with compassion rather than condemnation. The evidence on her face of knowing she should back off but being unable — or perhaps more simply unwilling — to do so is quite moving. Around François, her body language transforms, becoming airy and girlish.

The latter is less developed than the two protagonists, but longstanding Denis collaborator Colin imbues him with charm as well as cunning calculating, his claim on Sara unaffected by loyalty to Jean. François is destruction disguised as a grin. It’s unclear whether his pursuit of Sara is motivated by a desire for vengeance.

The latter is less developed than the two protagonists, but longstanding Denis collaborator Colin imbues him with charm as well as cunning calculating, his claim on Sara unaffected by loyalty to Jean. François is destruction disguised as a grin. It’s unclear whether his pursuit of Sara is motivated by a desire for vengeance.

Meanwhile, the comfortable, tactile way Sara and Jean previously navigated each other in their apartment — even after returning from the beach, they can’t take their hands off each other — becomes cooler, more careful as a suspicious distance begins to divide them. Nonetheless, seeing sex involving middle-aged bodies captured with such unselfconscious naturalness and grace is an all-too-rare delight.

The script by Angot and Denis is spare with extraneous details, notably concerning the characters’ pasts, even acknowledging the current epidemic time frame in the most uncomplicated, matter-of-fact way imaginable as Sara and Jean casually replace and remove their masks throughout.

Denis’s film is quite easy, without the complexities of Let the Sunshine In. However, the screenplay and her razor-sharp direction expose the individuals’ emotions in frightening concluding scenes, which are heightened by Gautier’s camera closing in on them with probing accuracy. The sense of love disintegrating and lives being thrown into disarray as a latent history forcefully breaks through the surface is unexpectedly emotional, made all the more so by the film’s adamant rejection of sentimentality. Given that movie begins with images that play knowingly with schmaltz, the final blow is surprisingly devastating.