Valérie Donzelli’s Just the Two of Us harrowingly navigates the complexities of love turned toxic, starring a remarkable Virginie Efira.
Just the Two of Us (L’Amour et les forêts), directed by Valérie Donzelli, unfolds as a poignant exploration of the complexities within relationships and domestic abuse. The film is an adaptation of Éric Reinhardt’s eponymous novel. It had its world premiere at Cannes 2023 (Cannes Première section) right before it hit theaters in France on May 24, 2023. Later, Donzelli’s feature celebrated its North American premiere at the 29th Cinemania festival.
The narrative centers around Blanche (Virginie Efira), who encounters her childhood friend Grégoire (Melvil Poupaud) after years of separation. What initially seems like a fairy-tale romance takes a dark turn as Grégoire’s possessiveness and dangerous nature emerge, turning Blanche’s newfound life into a nightmarish trap. The film meticulously portrays the evolution of Blanche’s emotions, from the bliss of a burgeoning relationship to the escalating anxiety, fear, and anger as she becomes trapped in a toxic marriage.
The tension steadily escalates, transforming the film into a suffocating psychological drama where fear and anxiety reign supreme. The opening sequence, a close-up on Blanche’s tormented face, sets the tone from the film’s outset, foreshadowing the emotional rollercoaster that awaits.
Virginie Efira’s performance is truly remarkable. She portrays both Blanche and her twin sister, and she skillfully navigates through a spectrum of emotions. Virginie Efira adeptly conveys the joy of new love and the subsequent descent into turmoil, creating a powerful and emotional connection with the audience.
The pivotal scene of the film occurs in a forest, where Blanche seeks solace with an internet acquaintance. This enchanting interlude serves as a poetic respite from her harrowing daily life, offering a glimpse of hope for a happier future.
The film’s audiovisual elements play a crucial role in enhancing its thematic depth. The meticulously crafted sound design, ranging from whispers to screams, along with haunting silences, contributes to the palpable atmosphere of dread. The interplay of light is equally significant, shifting from the radiant purity of sunlight to the ominous red tones and darkness. The contrast between the couple’s dimly lit home in Metz and the brilliantly lit forest house adds a layer of visual symbolism to the narrative.
Temporal manipulation is another noteworthy aspect, allowing the film to modulate its pacing effectively. The seamless blending of present and past, with some memories hastened and others lingered upon, contributes to the film’s suspense. Particularly, the forest scene, which represents not more than just a few hours of Blanche’s life in reality, is well detailed here and is given the importance of a longlasting moment. Time seems to stand still, affording Blanche a moment of respite.
Having read Eric Reinhardt’s novel, I noted that the director took the freedom to give the story a more positive ending. Unlike in the book, Blanche manages to regain control of her life. It sounds as a note of hope for all women victims of domestic violence.
