Love In The Afternoon (1972)

Written and directed by Éric Rohmer

Fréderic (Bernard Verley) has got a tidy life: a beautiful wife who loves him. A little cherub of a child, growing up beautifully. A successful law practice, albeit a small one. So of course, he fantasizes about how things could be different. 

Because his wife, for all her beauty and devotion, is familiar. She’s a mother now, not the woman he was initially attracted to. The suburbs are draining, a black hole of boredom that he wants to escape. Work’s a little humdrum. 

To break up the monotony, he takes a late lunch break in the afternoon where he watches women in the street and plays out little scenarios in his mind. They provide an escape of sorts: “I want to possess them all,” he thinks. In his mind, he walks up, casually flirts and these women eagerly submit to his want to bed them. Easy submission, instantly gratified dizzy lust. Daydreams. 

Nothing he’d act on, he tells himself. 

Then Chloé (Zouzou) barges into his life. An ex of an old friend, Fréderic and Chloé are acquainted, but were never intimate in any way. That quickly changes, and although they’re not outright flirtatious, foregoing lingering touches and looks, innuendo and hints, they test the waters in a different way. She unsettles Fréderic by stating out loud something he fears deep down: that marriage is a fool’s game, that romance isn’t forever, and it’s natural to want to bed others. Together, they play a verbal cat-and-mouse game where she talks of his inevitable lapse into adultery, and he offers little resistance.   

Common sense would have him rush her out the door and back out of his life, but of course, instead they begin making plans to spend afternoons together, and while the activities are never sordid and clothes stay on, the chemistry builds and the talk grows more pointed. Fréderic, you’re in trouble…

Love In The Afternoon and its sensual eroticism builds throughout until it reaches a forceful crescendo. Rohmer’s subtlety and deft touch for how small gestures carry weight makes his film a titillating and attention-grabbing watch despite never relying on bare skin to do so. 

The slow-burn of this seduction makes later gestures momentous. A hand a little higher on the arm than normal, a hand lingering slightly longer on the waist than it should, a finger touching a lock of hair, maneuvering in space it shouldn’t. Rohmer’s direction of the tease is long and masterful, well aware of its own taboo nature. It makes for an eroticism rooted in reticence, rather than excess.  

As for the relationship itself, the contrast between Verley’s Fréderic and Zouzou’s Chloé is key. He’s a man who doesn’t feel buttoned-up enough, so he wears a turtleneck under a three-piece suit. Meanwhile, she’s outright, imposing, teasing. Where every woman in Paris seems to wear dresses, she wears pants, and she likes to sit down with legs parted. His tepid energy squirms against her avalanche of character, and to watch Féderic try to convince himself he’s in control (and doing nothing wrong) is fun enough on its own. 

The late 60s and 70s saw the beginning of rising divorce rates in Europe. New legislation made divorce easier, with mutual consent enough of a reason where previously it took an abusive partner or something equally irredeemable. Arriving at the beginning of the 70s, Love In The Afternoon trades in this new state of affairs. 

It features gormless husbands, vulnerable wedding vows, and suburban ennui. Adultery existed before 1972 of course, but fealty to monogamy was the default attitude. Chloé represents the tempting new world order, and in Fréderic, the bourgeois reels. Fast forward to today, and marriage has never been less ironclad, far from the definitive proof of a relationship’s strength. Looking back, what’s interesting to note is how more nuanced our understanding of infidelity is. 

Love In The Afternoon suggests adultery begins at penetration, but with our contemporary view of emotional infidelity, we’d cancel Féderic way before Rohmer’s film reaches its climax and a verdict is handed down. Still, it’s a provocative film, a landmark story, and a clear depiction of the emotional open seas of modern life and the dissatisfaction many find in traditional structures and the upper-middle class dream.