Based on Conrad's "The Return", "Gabrielle" is not a simple story of an unhappy marriage. The couple does not only see the parts that don't work but digs into them, but both get hurt by the things they discover while trying to dig deeper. The deeper they get, the more sorrow they share and they face a marriage that has long turned to a masquerade, like their whole life.Their outburst will make both of them bleed from most of the long-paralyzed parts of their personalities.A great screenplay, great directing by Chereau, and wonderful actings from Huppert and Greggory.

Obviously we don't all like the same things. One commentator said it was all just talk, as if that were a bad thing. I happen to love language and words, and in particular love the French language. So that is the reason I rent a movie in French. I also have a very strong aversion to "action movies" where language is reduced to "Ow! Help! Duck!" On the other hand, movies like Gabrielle where minute movements of the psyche are explored in depth by minimalistic means, these are what grip me, move me, keep me interested. I do not really think the movie is like an opera -- it was more like a french play -- the delivery and velocity of the spoken word was very much in the style of french live theater.My only caveat is that French-ness and Conrad seem a strange mix to me. There was another French movie that was made on a Conrad text, and I had a similar reaction. Conrad is not writing about French society. And yet the action has been transplanted to France. And it seems an entirely incongruous transplant to me -- plopping the joyless uprightness of puritanical England (the only place name mentioned is "West End Station" into a such a lively Latin culture which has always had a much more relaxed attitude towards love and sex... well,to me it's just incongruous.Nevertheless, it was an cleverly crafted movie, and the musical score by Fabio Vacchi was unearthly beautiful.

French language period set chick flick that was so banally turgid and pretentious that I wanted to scratch thine own eyes out in those brief lucid periods I was awake. One thing I did share with what I expect the females in the audience were experiencing was the shedding of tears, the stark difference being that mine were tears of blood. If it had been a play I would have rushed out, brought a gun, then rushed back to shoot the actors on stage for in my opinion they deserve nothing but death. Put briefly, in turn of the century Paris a rather arrogant man rather abruptly finds out that his wife of 10 years desires to leave him for another man. Much talking is done. Then much more talking is done. This is followed by lengthy periods of talking. More talking. Then wrapped up with, surprisingly, talking. But it's all done in an almost monologue method , briefly interspersed with large titles on screen which I expect the makers of the movie thought to be profound yet I found completely ridiculous (the film ends with the words "AND HE NEVER RETURNED!". I thought it rude of me to puke on the floor of so gorgeous a theatre (the State in Sydney, such a beautiful and elaborate place) so I resisted with all my might). I left the cinema with a headache. Not in any way due to the complexity and depth of the story I'd just seen, but because I just wasted what I now consider to be the most valuable 90 minutes of my life ever. Even now I want to cry.I see a great number of art-house films, so I'm not a pop culture heathen and I own many great titles in my own private DVD collection that I watch and treasure. I have nothing against glacial pacing, indeed for many wonderful films it is often delicious to slowly savour the unfolding occurrences (In My Fathers Den, Lantana, Insomnia, Mar Adentro etc) and my own favorites are indie films like Requiem For A Dream and Mysterious Skin (tho honestly a film one need watch only once due to its power and disturbing subject matter). But in this instance I would never have thought a "French language art-house drama" would be the type of film that in my opinion, gives the Adam Sandler film The Waterboy a run for it's money.Complete dross.

What can one add, after the foregoing comments, ranging from " zero" (Belgium) to " 8 " from some other country. All aspects have already been touched upon, so I will give some other, personal observations. 1. this is a (great) psycho-thriller in the tradition of that Master of theatrical cinema, my hero of the 1970s, Luchino Visconti (like, Innocente, Gattoparde). even the setting was very Viscontesque. But the scenario has weird twists, and an absurd ending. Which made it " a drag" for me in the end. 2. Towards the end of the story, as the woman offers herself to re-find her husband at last (?) and we viewers get to see a glimpse of Isabelle Hupperts pubic hair, not seen since her nude photos in the french playboy Lui, 1981, it is then that we realize that Sexual Frustration is the main theme of the film. So typical in that era. 3. The setting and context are excellent. Far from a " costume drama", the in-house day-to-day scenes are tremendous. Nothing to ridicule about, that 's the way it was . 4.People lacking historical knowledge, as some of the comments indicate, should remember that the upper classes in the western world had this lot of servants in the late 1800s...indeed. 5. I liked the film, but went to it only as a fan of Huppert. Any other actress, I would have " skipped". The payment was great. My appetite for close-ups of her psycho-tormented , and aging !!, face, was satisfied. What great acting talent, compared to a modern woman -of - low- morale, I saw her act last week in My Mother. 6. Actually , she looks like (the late) my mother.....that s why I adore her in the end. OR??