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Like a fine wine, Louis Garrel‘s A Faithful Man needs to be opened to the elements, to “breathe.” Because if there’s ever been a more airless, so-dry-one-hesitates-to-label-it “romantic comedy,” I’ve yet to set parched eyes upon it.
A Faithful Man may tip its hat to the conventions of film noir – Abel as the patsy, Marianne as the femme fatale – but Garrel’s winking sensibility is far too fun for real darkness. Instead, he gives us a wonderful soufflé of a film – light, airy, and a rare treat.
It can’t be overstated the simple pleasures of something that’s genuine but never cringe-inducing, and light but never sugary.