This movie is based on a 1610 French novel which takes place in fifth-century Gaul. The story is about the title lovers, children of two feuding families, and at a festival, Celadon tries to hide the romance by pretending to be in love with another girl. Though it was for show, Astrea assumes Celadon's infidelity was genuine and tells him she never wants to see him again, though he threatens to drown himself...and jumps into the river to do so.This causes distress to both the villagers, especially Astrea...but they are unaware that he had been rescued by three nymphs who take him to their castle. One nymph wants Celadon for himself, but another manages to smuggle him out and have him live in the forest, with her druid father coming to help him. But Celadon won't go home because Astrea ordered her not to see him. The rest of the movie revolves around getting Astrea and Celadon back together, which is much more time-consuming than it should be.The movie is full of elements that hardly evoke what fifth-century Gaul must have been like, including a castle and garden that must have dated from at least a millennium later, overly-refined statuary and writing and such, and the discussions of love and religion have little relevance to the overall story. Worst of all, however, is that the two lovers could have gotten back together without having had to resort to all the rigmarole-hence my review title.

Apparently Astrea and Celadon are in love but cannot publicly display it since their families hate each other. So, Celadon pretends to love another--and ultimately Astrea incorrectly assumes he is being unfaithful to her. So what does this knucklehead do? He tosses himself into the river when she confronts him and tells him never to talk to her again. She naturally assumes he drowned in the river and sulks through most of the film. However, and this is really odd, he does not reveal to her that he's alive--after all, she DID tell him never to speak to her again AND he was the perfect lover and could not violate this command. So, to get around this command, later he is introduced to her as the druid priest's daughter--and she/he and Astrea become close friends and confidantes.I understand that director Eric Rohmer is a beloved New Wave director and I understand that the reviews for his final film, "The Romance of Astrea and Celadon", are mostly very positive here on IMDb. However, despite knowing I SHOULD love his work and this film, try as I might, I just don't get this adoration. Sure, I have enjoyed a few of Rohmer's films but by and large, I just can't help but feel perplexed by his fans. And, of all the films of Rohmer's I have seen, I think that, to me, "The Romance of Astrea and Celadon" is perhaps the least enjoyable. The plot made little sense, the plot device of having Celadon dress as a woman made even less sense and the film just seemed incredibly talky and dull. If this is about what true love is supposed to be about, then I guess I know absolutely nothing about love---I just thought Celedon was a bit of a yutz and his actions seemed less like the ideal lover and more like a complete fool.So was there anything I liked about the film? The cinematography was nice and the director did create an amazingly beautiful and sensual picture. But the plot made no sense, the story quite slow and the film bored me to tears. I just don't seem to see in this film what everyone else sees.

Raymond Radiguet concluded his novel "Count d' Orgel's Ball" in a masterly manner with the count's terrible phrase: And now, sleep, Mahaut, I want it so - mesmerizing his love into blackmail.What this has to do with Rohmer's pastoral romance? Its histrionics could not be more far than Rohmer's world. I take it as a perfect contrast to the film's end: young Astree cheerfully chirps to the exposed, from his previous cross-dressed role as a druid's sick daughter, Celadon: Vives! Vives! Je te le commande! which translates into something like: Live! Live! I order you so! This "into something like" has its own whimsical twist that makes me wonder about the extent of Rohmer's deliberate irony (and mine): Astree, or rather the actress portraying her, seems to me the more naive of the whole cast, and the more debatable on technical skills. I mean the troubadour, or rather a mockery of this, with his shrill voice, does not offend me as over-the-top in his performance, although he is a bit obvious. He is there for, in a way, us throwing darts to him. Perhaps Rohmer's mockery turned a bit harsh on him; one wonders if this was the case for Astree. It makes me think of Kubrick's sly choices of leading men in his films: the actors' public image as exemplary cases of somewhat ridiculous virility, in Kubrick's hands turned into the films' advantage.Of course this sadistic strain does not occur in Rohmer, far from it. So, why do I mention this? Here comes the punchline: because Astree's articulation is so blurred, her acting so bad and fresh, that the first time I heard the film's final sentence I thought, astonished and confused, that she was saying "Je telecommande!" that is, literally, "I TV order".Was this Rohmer's last word? For even if I cannot argue that wordplay is something he pursued in his films (although the early short "The Monceau bakery girl" features the amorous homonymy "ca me dit/samedi" in the flirting exchange "Ca vous dit?" "Oui, ca me dit." "Sortons donc Samedi." which means "It sounds okay?" "Yes, it sounds okay." "So let's go out on Saturday."), I cannot claim either that this was something he overlooked. The film in its simplicity, exemplifies an amazing level of sophistication. For to achieve such illusory simplicity, that also dares to play with our allusions of a soft-porn sensibility, or mock-philosophy (listen how the druid's discourse on trinity has the volume turned down a little, as a soft pedal occurred), well, it warrants a master's touch.I am left amused, or rather bemused, than perplexed. It is as if this doesn't actually matter, and one wouldn't want it otherwise, mesmerized away from TV, into somewhat more difficult pleasures posing as, and with pastoral simplicity; it all is spiritually uplifting.I will soon revisit - and live! - this little quick-silvery film.

Rohmer has made great films so if he makes a strange or apparently bad film it's wiser to check if it's our expectations that are at fault, not the film. Celadon & Astrae is an odd film and I don't think it's a great film, but I don't think it's a bad one. It has conventions- as all films do- but they aren't conventional conventions so it takes time to adjust to them but it is worth adjusting and accepting the preposterous plot, the formal archaic language and the absurd psychology. There's actually a very Rohmeric film here with beautiful fluid filming and a Rohmeric concern with morality and the actors aren't trapped by the conventions they must act in: Astrea and Celadon's sorrows and joys may be conventional and absurd objectively but they are still moving and the debates are absurd in form but relevant in subject.