Take Your Seats and Roll Along With ‘The Passengers of the Night’

There’s drama aplenty, but director Mikhaël Hers brings an even keel to the proceedings, a measured sense of flow and continuity. Life is a rush, he argues, only if you let it be.

Via Nord Ouest Films & Arte France Cinema
Charlotte Gainsbourg in 'The Passengers of the Night.' Via Nord Ouest Films & Arte France Cinema

The new film from director Mikhaël Hers, “The Passengers of the Night,” begins on the evening in 1981 that François Mitterrand is voted into office as president of France. Celebrations in Paris are afoot and, with them, a heady sense of possibility as well as a degree of recklessness. Having established a context and a timeline, Mr. Hers doesn’t turn away from historical events so much as focus on the byways in which the majority of us travel. Check the title: passengers, not drivers, are the film’s focus.

Élisabeth (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is the mother of two teenage children, Matthias (Quito Rayon-Richter) and Judith (Megan Northam). She’s recently separated: Although the screenplay doesn’t specify as much, the split between Élisabeth and her husband seems to have taken place mere weeks and maybe days ago. Unable to sleep, she finds solace in a late night radio advice show hosted by Vanda Dorval (a steely Emmanuelle Béart). After some faltering attempts at employment, Élisabeth writes a fawning letter to Vanda and, to her surprise, is hired to screen phone calls.

In the meantime, Matthias falters at school, preferring to hang with his buddy Carlos (Calixte Broisin-Doutaz) and play footsie with Leïla (Lilith Grasmug). Leïla, though, is summarily disregarded once Élisabeth brings home a young woman named Talulah (Noée Abita). Talulah is the first in-studio guest on Vanda’s program, a runaway who also counts herself a loyal listener. When Élisabeth leaves for home after the show, she spies Talulah on a park bench. Having nowhere to go, the young woman accepts Élisabeth’s offer to stay in a spare room for a couple of days.

Two parallel storylines, not entirely dissimilar, emerge for mother and son. Élisabeth begins a tentative office romance and Matthias falls for Talulah. How could he not? She’s got the eyes of a Byzantine icon, a smile as expansive as it is rare, and, well, she’s right upstairs

When Matthias first meets her, he’s with Carlos in the living room. Suddenly, the door is opened and, for these two adolescent boys, a vision appears. Would they mind if Talulah took a moment to shower? Not at all. Consternation and excitement ensue between Matthias and Carlos. After Talulah finishes her ablutions and exits the apartment, the boys greedily smell her towel. Rarely has a “meet cute” rang quite as true.

Otherwise, things happen. Talulah introduces Matthias to a ragtag cadre of street punks, Judith becomes politically active, Élisabeth is hit on while at the library, and, wonder of wonders, he turns out to be a decent guy. People sneak into the movies, engage in silly family rituals, keep secrets from their loved ones, and take note of gratitude and stillness. There’s no plot, as such, to “The Passengers of the Night.” Events unroll, disperse, and then, maybe, reconnoiter. There’s drama aplenty, but Mr. Hers brings an even keel to the proceedings, a measured sense of flow and continuity. Life is a rush, he argues, only if you let it be.

There’s much to commend to “The Passengers of the Night,” though, initially, you might want to bail on it. Mr. Hers is fond of cinematic flourishes — fade-outs, freezes, and the like — that are more affected than is warranted by the script, which he co-wrote with Maud Ameline and Mariette Désert. Mostly, though, Mr. Hers plays his directorial cards close to the vest — the movie is, in the end, all about holding close — and stays true to the small graces and quiet vexations that typify his characters.

Cinematographer Sébastien Buchmann proves invaluable in bringing a requisite grain to the visuals — so much so, that when documentary footage is inserted it is done so with nary a seam — and Ms. Gainsbourg is a marvel, an actress whose gawky physicality adds considerable resonance to a character whose increasing sense of autonomy doesn’t hit a false note. Here is a movie about time, both its inescapable languors and inevitable bumps, that is worthy of yours.


The New York Sun

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