When Blanche (Virginie Efira) first meets Grégoire (Melvil Poupaud), her world is full of color. The clothes she wears pop in vibrant bubblegum pinks, and the duo’s romantic trysts are always bathed in a sultry red light. He, quite literally, seems to brighten her world. But as their relationship grows and they eventually get married, the color slowly seems to fade from Blanche and her everyday life. This visual symbolism isn’t anything new to film—it’s been used many times to clue viewers in to the stifling emotional relationships between various characters—but Valérie Donzelli subtly deploys it in her new film, Just the Two of Us, so that it feels more natural than methodical, just another subtle shift in the life of a person experiencing domestic abuse.
Just the Two of Us begins like so many films of its kind: a meet cute happens between two charismatic people, they fall in lust, then in love, until eventually they are married and having children. Subtle red flags pop up along the way here and there, but they never seem bigger than cupcake décor. Eventually, though, those red flags start to add up, and the main character—who is usually female—finds herself in a living hell that she cannot figure out how to escape. In Blanche’s case, her husband has isolated her from her mother and twin sister by tricking her into moving far from her hometown. He begrudgingly allows her to work as a teacher but calls her incessantly throughout her school day to keep tabs on her. The couple have two children together, and Blanche’s whole world begins to shrink down to work, childcare and her husband’s constant need for her love and affection. Blanche, whose name quite literally means “white” in French, is a blank slate, no longer in possession of her own personal likes and desires.
Donzelli’s film is enticing because it shows the slow buildup of an abusive relationship from the unobstructed perspective of its female lead. Even though Blanche and Grégoire have children, they are very rarely seen on screen. We know that Blanche is doing most of the childcare for her children—in one scene she all but begs her husband to pick up their kids from school for once so she can attend a party held in her honor—but Donzelli makes the conscious decision not to inundate viewers with scenes highlighting this care work. Instead, the children mostly flit in the background, unspoken absolutes that don’t need to be seen in order for viewers to understand their weight. This choice allows us to focus on Blanche and her own personal struggle with her toxic relationship. It affords us the opportunity to view her emotions as solely her own, unencumbered by the other people in her life, so that when we get to the film’s final act, Blanche’s decisions feel even more powerful.
The other aspect of Just the Two of Us that works extremely well is its approach to chronicling the stages of being in an abusive relationship. Donzelli spends a lot of time focusing on subtlety before moving things into a place where Grégoire’s dangerous behaviors can no longer be ignored. Because of this, Blanche’s torturous life with her husband feels all-encompassing and completely inescapable. The trauma is dealt out in minute blows that only really begin to hurt for Blanche once it seems like it might be too late. This feeling of, “How did I ever end up in this situation?” begins to feel very real, and abusive relationships become slow-growing things that you are never truly rid of. This concept is made all the more powerful by Efira’s delicate and restrained approach to the part of Blanche. She embraces her character’s own inner uncertainty so that we really get to see just how tormented she becomes.
And that is what ultimately makes Just the Two of Us so compelling. Donzelli presents a fairly standard account of how abuse eats away at a person’s life and self-worth, but instead of choosing to wrap things up neatly at the film’s end, she lets us linger in the unknown. We are uncertain if Blanche will ever succeed in freeing herself and her children from the damaging mind of Grégoire, and there is that sinking feeling that she will be trying to rid herself of him for the rest of her life. Abuse and trauma are inescapable, and their effects never quite go away. This is a powerful message to convey, and Donzelli does it in a way that feels organic and well-earned, however, even though Just the Two of Us is an absorbing watch, it might not be as potent as its underlying message. Even though it attempts to shed new perspective on an often dealt with topic (it should be noted that this film is an adaptation of Éric Reinhardt’s book L’Amour et les Forêts), its staying power in the minds of moviegoers and critics alike might just be more of a one-night stand.
Photo courtesy of Music Box Films
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