We're not serious when we're 50!

Adultery is a gymkhana. It's a sport that has surprises in store. When he meets Charlotte (Sandrine Kiberlain ), Simon (Vincent Macaigne ) is not at the end of his troubles. They have a first date in a bar with dark wood paneling. She is lively, relaxed. He is more clumsy, hesitant, entangled. Without a second thought, she takes him home, offers him tea, makes him listen to Ravi Shankar. He has been married for twenty years. She has a son. We feel that he is not used to this kind of adventure. What happened to him? There is a sort of refusal of obstacles in the character.

They see each other again. She thinks he has artistic hands. He is a gynecologist. He likes her. Its moles outline the Big Dipper. She is a literature teacher. He panics. He runs after her, in every sense of the word. She's going too fast. This contrast gives the charm, the originality, the spice of Chronicle of a fleeting affaira modern and elegant marivaudage. The off-beat duet has the air of slapstick where Vincent Macaigne and Sandrine Kiberlain would have replaced Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.

Shuffle the cards

Emmanuel Mouret, who surely admires Preston Sturges, has the gift of making speech photogenic. He films with his feet on the floor. Rhythm and modesty are the two breasts of his talent. Its heroes play badminton, discuss everything and nothing, the expiry date of condoms, the merits of hair removal. You're not serious when you're 50. These people meet in galleries, bookstores, at the Palais de Tokyo. They can't believe what's happening to them. A friend lends his bachelor pad. Charlotte rushes forward, jumps into the pleasure with both feet. Passion, no thanks. This enchanted parenthesis is enough for him. Simon thinks, asks himself questions. He gets lost in endless discourses. It's tiring in the end. We want to shake it. Go ahead, enjoy. What an idea to talk about your wife! Does she want to see a photo of herself? That's not okay, right?

Emmanuel Mouret rejuvenates this Rohmer couple, plunging them into the twists and turns of social networks. Websites on the internet, why not? This will seriously confuse the issue. We must not make a drama out of it. They will not forget these four months, spent freely on the screen. There were, yes, these hotels, these museums, these laughs under the sheets, these public gardens, this architect's house deep in the woods. Without realizing it, they will have experienced eternal moments. There is a springtime and carefree side to this sentimental and devilishly romantic ballad that Chardonne would not have hated, for example.

Happiness consists of taking refuge in a church during a storm, of going down torrents, of going to the Escorial which projects Scenes from married life. In twelve weeks or so, they will have been entitled to a summary of all the feelings, lulled by The Javanese Juliette Gréco version. Sandrine Kiberlain smiles wildly. Vincent Macaigne stammers, blushes. Love is a game.