Madame Solario (2012)
Directed by René Féret

Drama / History

Film Review

Abstract picture representing Madame Solario (2012)
In 2010, director René Féret achieved widespread acclaim for his biographical drama, Nannerl, la soeur de Mozart, an insightful and moving account of the frustrated life of the composer W.A. Mozart's sister.  His follow-up feature is a similarly eye-catching period piece, offering a moody tale of incest and deceit set in the rarefied atmosphere of the high society of the Belle Époque, circa 1900.  In his sixteenth full-length film, Féret deals with a subject close to his heart - family intrigue - and takes as his inspiration a bestselling novel of the 1950s by Gladys Huntington.  When it first went into print in 1956, Madame Solario attracted considerable attention, partly because it was published anonymously (it wasn't until the 1980s that the author's identity was disclosed), but mainly because of its scandalous content.  Huntington was 69 when she wrote the book, which is believed to be autobiographical, and committed suicide three years after its publication.  By the time Féret came to make his film, Huntington and her infamous novel had been all but forgotten.

In this, his most ambitious film to date, René Féret does a fine job of recreating the world that Huntington describes so vividly in her novel, a hermetically sealed world of privilege and complacency, governed by rigid social codes which suffocate all true human feeling and allow vice and corruption to fester like a gangrenous pus beneath the thin polished veneer of respectability.  It is a milieu that will be instantly recognisable to any devotee of the English writer E.M. Forster - there is that unmistakable twang of autumnal mustiness, suggestive of a stale social stratum that has outlived its stay and is soon to be washed away by the cleansing tides of time.   Féret's film may have been made on a far more modest budget, but it does bear a passing resemblance to the lavish Merchant-Ivory adaptations of Forster's novels, as it should given that it deals with similar themes in an identical setting.

Partly by design, partly by accident, Madame Solario has a worrying sense of artificiality about it, which effectively captures the absurd superficiality of the starched milieu it depicts, one in which surface appearances count for everything whilst honest emotions are violently suppressed.  Perhaps Féret goes a little too far in his use of distancing techniques - the Bressonian style of acting makes it hard for us to engage with any of the characters, most of whom come across as dull and shallow, and the dialogue (clumsily overladen with dry exposition in places) becomes jarring after a while as it is constantly delivered in a flat, emotionless fashion.  If Féret is indeed attempting to imitate Robert Bresson, he misses the point somewhat and fails to find a way to elicit much of an emotional response from his audience.

The one fatal error that Féret makes is to cast his daughter Marie in the central role, the eponymous heroine with a decidely troubled past.  Attractive as she is, Marie Féret has neither the charisma nor the acting skill to render her complex character credible or interesting.  The qualities that made her so suitable for the part of Mozart's sister in her father's previous film (her innocence and self-effacing charm) make her totally the wrong choice for the role of Madame Solario, an unscrupulous adventuress involved in an incestuous relationship with her brother.  Fortunately, the two other two principal roles are far better cast: whilst neither Cyril Descours nor Salomé Stévenin evoke much sympathy, they have at least a spark of vitality and are able to render their characters totally believable (almost to the point of nausea).  The same cannot be said of most of the supporting cast, who look like a job lot from a waxworks factory (an impression that is reinforced by the colourless dialogue they are given).

Given the obvious shortcomings on both the writing and acting fronts, it is surprising that the film has any appeal at all.  Madame Solario may be flawed but there is something about it that makes it strangely compelling.  Its main virtue is Benjamín Echazarreta's sumptuous photography, which not only lends the film an exquisite visual lustre but also powerfully evokes the era and the setting of the story.  As ineffably gorgeous as the Lake Como location is, the stunning vistas suggestive of an island paradise that could not be further from the travails of the early 20th century, there is an all-pervasive sense of confinement and brooding menace.  Right from the outset, you can't help feeling that this perfect world of elegant frocks and even more elegant manners is a total sham, a façade through which a flotilla of bulldozers will smash at any moment.  As soon as the nature of Madame Solario's relationship with her brother becomes apparent, we know that it is only a question of time before the temple walls come crashing down, exposing the prim social merry-go-round for what it is - a hideous spectacle of lies and artifice.

If it had been better cast and if a little more care had been lavished on its script, Madame Solario could easily have been René Féret's most impressive film to date.  As it is, the film struggles to maintain our interest and is only partially redeemed by its three saving graces: its hard-to-resist visual allure; its daring but delicate handling of a problematic (i.e. incestuous) relationship; and its intense evocation of a world that has long since passed away.  It is not an easy film to be moved by, but it is crafted with immense style and it does leave a lasting impression.
© James Travers 2012
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Film Synopsis

Lake Como in September 1906.  The aristocratic residents of a luxury hotel welcome the latest arrival in their happy little community, the young and beautiful Madame Natalia Solario, who is virtually penniless after her divorce.  Natalia is surprised when she is visited by Eugène Ardent, the brother she has not seen for many years.  The two siblings waste no time inveigling their way into the confidence of their well-heeled entourage, hoping that by doing so they will find a way out of their financial difficulties.  But their unfortunate past soon catches up with them...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by frenchfilms.org and must not be copied.


Film Credits

  • Director: René Féret
  • Script: René Féret
  • Cinematographer: Benjamín Echazarreta
  • Music: Patrick Dechorgnat
  • Cast: Marie Féret (Natalia Solario), Cyril Descours (Eugène Ardent), Salomé Stévenin (Missy Vlamink), Harry Lister Smith (Bernard), Lisa Féret (Martha Leroy), Mona Heftre (La mère de Missy), Christophe Rossignon (Griset de Florel), Arianna Pollini (La Marquise), Scott Thrun (Colonel Ross), Chrystel Seyvecou (Mrs. Ross), Andrei Zayats (Kovanski), Julien Febvre (Pico), Frédéric Attard (Le directeur de l'hôtel de Lausanne), Mickaël Caffier (Le concierge de l'hôtel), Camilla De Marchi (La grand-mère de Martha), Léone Féret (La petite-fille du train), Frédéric Hulne (Le domestique de Kovanski), David Moreau (Le groom de l'hôtel de Lausanne), Lorenzo Gnozzi (Le groom de l'hôtel Bellevue), Claude Mercier (Le centenaire)
  • Country: France
  • Language: French
  • Support: Color
  • Runtime: 93 min

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