Following an age-old formula, Lie With Me might not grab its audience by the neck, but the way Olivier Peyon and his cast play with this story of love and loss certainly makes for an entertaining film.
★★★✰✰
The opening scene of Lie With Me is its most telling. Following a montage of close-ups of our cast, mixed with wide shots of the Charente landscape, Peyon is quick to establish the three components of the film: his protagonist, the fictional writer Stéphane Belcourt (Guillaume de Tonquédec), Stéphane’s younger self, and the landscape that connects them.
Based on Philippe Besson’s 2017 novel of the same name (as in the French title Arrête avec tes mensonges; ‘Stop with your lies’), Lie With Me is more of a panoramic view of a man and his memories that goes beyond its source material. Besson’s book follows his 17th year, in which he meets and begins a romance with Thomas (Julien de Saint Jean). Thomas comes from a traditional farming family and refuses to acknowledge their relationship in the open. Eventually, the strain of self-repression becomes too much, and Thomas leaves for Spain, never to be seen again.
Lie With Me follows this story from the perspective of the author in the present day, in which he meets Lucas (Victor Belmondo), Thomas’ now adult son, who wants to know the truth about his dad’s demise, which eventually leads to suicide. Returning to their hometown of Cognac after 35 years, Stéphane (our story’s Philippe) and Lucas try to piece together the fragments of Thomas that they both knew, as well as the Thomas that appeared in Stéphane’s now acclaimed books, in order to confront the grief they both feel from his death.
It’s this trio that makes what feels like an overdone story into a unique, romantic sentiment. De Tonquédec’s reserve, struggling to express joy after a life painted by grief, mixes brilliantly with Belmondo’s fresh suave and innocence, expressed with the playful vivacity his late grandfather was famous for. We meet Lucas and Stéphane long after Thomas’ death, so only ever see the latter at 17, played with solemn conviction by de Saint Jean. Nonetheless, the bond that Stéphane and Lucas create etherealises Thomas, his character as much alive as ever through their vibrant emotions.
The one exception to this vibrant representation is at the turning point of the third act: when both find out their connection to Thomas, they initially choose to dismiss it, leading to an argument that verges on a full-on scrap before being stopped by Gaëlle (Guilaine Londez), Stéphane’s loyal, level-headed chaperone. De Tonquédec’s reserved character up until this point is let down by his ruthless jabbing at Lucas, who retaliates with a vitriol that somewhat betrays the worldliness of his character. Of course, the film’s twisting and turning between the present and the past means that what either party knows is a bit muddled. But the malice that they both bring to the argument seems only to fuel the tragedy of their loss, and not in a way that does the story any justice.
As much as the argument may seem convoluted, it isn’t surprising that Stéphane’s emotions, brewing for 35 years, would come up so suddenly. Lie With Me, then, has a clear double meaning: lie next to me, and lie about our relationship. In 1984, when homosexuality was still very much repressed, Stéphane and Thomas’ romance is built on a level of mystery; their desperation for love outweighing the risks of a homosexual relationship.
When writing Arrête avec tes mensonges, Besson recalls being inspired by Marguerite Duras’ 1984 autobiographical novel The Lover. A first edition, stained and dog-eared, sat before him as he wrote, he says: “I knew that I was going to write about my seventeen-year-old self, about what happened the year I turned seventeen, and I have never forgotten that that was the year I read The Lover for the first time.” Stéphane knows his entire, solemn existence can only be reconciled by retracing those painful steps. This, of course, was never going to be pretty, which Peyon clearly understands.
By the end, however, all is resolved: Stéphane and Lucas get over their grief together, culminating in a speech that the former gives at a dinner, revealing all to his friends and adoring fans. What is a complicated, emotional affair, brought to life by Peyon’s weaving of the past and the present with intimate moments that connect Stéphane to his past, is brought to a satisfying finale, where the pair are able to accept their loss.
Besson’s book is set in Barbezieux-Saint-Hilaire, a slightly more southerly commune in Charente. It feels deliberate then, that Peyon should move further north, to the town famous for a drink that starts as a very punchy, acidic wine, before being aged to produce a much darker, deeper-tasting liquor. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to see the connection to Peyon’s story here—whether it’s a deliberate metaphor or not, Lie With Me certainly succeeds in what it sets out to achieve.
The Verdict
While it may not take the path less travelled, with attempts to do so falling short, Lie With Me succeeds in easing its viewer into a very heartfelt tale, treating us to a vibrant, creative approach to an unrequited love story.
Words by Oisín McGilloway
Lie with Me is in cinemas and digital from 18th August
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