Flitting between two separate timelines as it details a forbidden, youthful romance and the remnants of such a memory, Olivier Peyon‘s tender Lie With Me is a poignant journey, laced with beauty and unavoidable crispness despite its emotionally messy mentality.
In the present day, Stéphane Belcourt (Guillaume de Tonquédec) is a famous author who has become quite infamous for his quick turn around regarding the publishing of his books; it’s noted that he often releases two a year. His latest work is a little off his usual beaten path, as a famous cognac distillery has hired him to write a short story in celebration of their 200th anniversary.
Stéphane ordinarily wouldn’t subject himself to something quite beneath his talents, but being the town’s most popular export he feels a certain moral duty to the establishment, as well as realising the publicity (and commission) can only build his apparently stellar reputation. Someone who thinks quite highly of Stéphane is young Lucas (Victor Belmondo), a handsome PR sort who just so happens to be the son of Stéphane’s school “chum”, Thomas (Julien de Saint Jean), a bad boy-type who, despite his popular reputation with the female student body, was Stéphane’s closeted lover, for lack of a better (less complicated) word.
Stéphane reflecting on his youth and the volatile romance he shared with Thomas (Jérémy Gillet turning in a beautiful performance as the young Stéphane) results in his present-day self becoming quite overwhelmed at the thought, with him often becoming unable to maintain his composure around the distillery’s wealthy benefactors; thankfully his guide, Gaëlle (Guilaine Londez), who seems afraid of any uncomfortable silences, is never too far away to pull him back in line.
Where Stéphane finds ultimate purpose though is in his position to bridge the gap between Thomas and Lucas, who claims that he never knew much about his father, especially what Stéphane meant to him back in their 80s-set school days. There’s an irony in that Stéphane, a writer, can’t find the words to express his past with Thomas, even if Lucas may accept it. Stéphane’s mentality can’t help but be linked to a different time, a time that youth like Lucas can’t quite comprehend, living in environments where being openly queer, or having queer connotations, is far more accepted. It isn’t without its struggles today, but Stéphane and Thomas in the 1980s were in the thick of rampant homophobia and how dangerous it could be to be your authentic self; something Stéphane was able to be more so.
As troubled as their past union was, Lie With Me still has a certain crispness to it, not entirely succumbing to the obvious messy, tragic temperament that Stéphane and Thomas’ relationship would have adhered to. That being said, it’s still a mostly lush, realistic film, grounded via the immaculate performances across the board, Martin Rit’s cinematography, and Thylacine & Bravisan‘s emotive score that mirrors the gushing psyche of Stéphane at every turn.
Equally hopeful as it is heartbreakingly sad, Lie With Me should resonate with audiences who persevered through the societal struggles to stifle who they truly were, and the modern viewers whose way was paved prior.
FOUR STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Lie With Me is now screening in select Australian theatres now.
