The single biggest draw in Guillaume Nicloux’s Valley of Love is the reunion of French greats Isabelle Huppert and Gérard Depardieu nearly 40 years after their roles in Bertrand Blier’s Going Places (1974) and Maurice Pialat’s Loulou (1980). This time, though, their rebellious teen persona is gone, having been replaced with the grief of parents who have outlived their only child together. To a great extent, Valley of Love is a surreal rumination on loss and faith, but its appeal is mired by Nicloux’s on-the-nose symbolism and uneven tone.
Aspects of the film play out like a deadpan comedy. Per their son Michael’s last request, his parents meet in Death Valley and follow an itinerary that Michael himself laid out, which naturally puts them right in the heart of tourist Nevada. Two French actors in the midst of the worst of boorish America – the comedy practically writes itself. And because Huppert and Depardieu play characters who share their real names and are also respected actors, their uncomfortably awkward interactions are made all the more amusing. Whether it’s Huppert’s blank stare in the face of small talk or Depardieu signing “Bob De Niro” on a napkin for a man who clearly has no idea who he is, putting these two in the characterless setting of chain motels and tourist sites has an inherent comedic value.
But those throwaway scenes clash beyond measure with the story at hand. Here, we have two parents who sent their son away to boarding school and really never looked back. Michael’s story is vague, but it’s clear that he never had a real parent-child relationship with either of them. And now that they both have other children and other lives, Michael becomes more and more a metaphor for misspent youth and past lives than a real person who committed suicide and is asking his estranged parents to go sit in Death Valley and await his momentary resurrection.
Now, Michael’s claims that he will return are simply taken as matter of fact. There’s no context from which to glean any religiosity on his part, but Isabelle believes him completely, or wants to. She initially claims to have had the story confirmed by a Parisian psychic before admitting she couldn’t go past the waiting room. Gérard, for his part, has no belief and is there simply to fulfill Michael’s wish that his parents reunite once again. But there are some inexplicable things that happen. Most notably, Isabelle says a man was in her hotel room and grabbed her by the ankles. The next day, she has visible burns. And when Gérard claims to have witnessed their son’s return and been gingerly held by the wrists, he has the burns to back it up.
The most disappointing thing about Valley of Love besides the incohesive grief is the fact that Nicloux and cinematographer Christophe Offenstein don’t take as much advantage as they could of their desert surroundings. The camera is usually trained on Huppert and Depardieu as they wander the rocky trails, alternating between calm reminiscing and heated arguing. Brief establishing shots and shots of the duo parked under an umbrella admiring the locale’s sheer grandeur are all-too few. And even when Nicloux attempts to build tension – as in a one-take shot of Gérard running back to Isabelle’s room when he hears her screams – the effect is completely lost, either because Depardieu doesn’t look worried enough or because the shot takes too long.
There is certainly an appeal in Valley of Love‘s meandering nature, but Nicloux’s metaphysical script doesn’t satisfactorily establish what is at stake and thus indicate what is accomplished by the duo’s stint in Death Valley. It’s all a bit too meta, really. The mystical and supernatural elements are ambiguous at best, and there seems to be little resolution or reconciliation between these two characters by the end of the film.