Director: Chloé Robichaud
Writer: Catherine Léger
Stars: Karine Gonthier-Hyndman, Laurence Leboeuf, Mani Soleymanlou
Synopsis: Two struggling mothers grapple with unfulfilled expectations and societal pressures. As they navigate their roles as wives and professionals, one woman’s unexpected affair sparks a reevaluation of their lives and priorities.
Years of misogynistic and puritanical filmmaking has beaten the idea of female marital subservience into our heads. Men can regularly engage in terrible behavior, but the wife is expected to be the long-suffering woman who deals with it. Chloé Robichaud’s Two Women dares the viewer to let women sow their oats and watch them get away with it.
But there have to be consequences, right? Women can’t be going around sleeping with other men while their partners obliviously live their lives. Well, why not? Why can’t women engage in this kind of behavior that has been depicted on-screen for decades by male characters? The question you should be asking yourself: why have we been conditioned to expect the best out of female characters and not accept them for making decisions in moments of passion?
There is a deeper discussion about patriarchal filmmaking stereotypes, but that’s a different conversation. Robichaud is working under the expectation of those stereotypes being in place, but actively attempts to subvert those expectations without calling them out directly. That’s a bold stance to take for a relatively lighthearted dramedy. That stance flies in the face of years of established relationship tropes, but it makes for a refreshing take on modern romance.
Based on the 1970 comedy of the same name, Karine Gonthier-Hyndman stars as Florence, a middle-aged woman numbed by antidepressants, living in Montreal. Her partner David (Mani Soleymanlou) doesn’t have much to do with her since her medications completely suppress her sex drive. Florence’s neighbor Violette (Laurence Leboeuf) is on maternity leave and breastfeeding her child, which also limits her sex drive. Violette’s husband is often away on business, and is having an affair with a younger woman, Eli (Juliette Gariépy).
Florence decides to get off her pills, and Violette decides to stop breastfeeding. With the renewed vigor in their life, and their partners unable or unwilling to help, Florence begins sleeping with various handymen. Soon, Violette begins doing the same. As the chaos of their lives begin to coincide, the actions of the ladies’ partners begin to have more drastic consequences.
The film’s tone maintains a level of playfulness while also dealing with real-world scenarios. Despite all the sexual shenanigans, there are no real downsides for the women’s adventures. Any darker elements or playing-with-fire attitudes are bypassed for the sake of these women expanding their own lives. It would be easy for the film to have something dire happen in order to proselytize monogamy, but the film doesn’t even attempt to touch on those elements. Instead, sex becomes a joyous piece of liberation in a world where life’s responsibilities bring you down.
The relationship between the women is one of quiet comfort instead of the usual gossip sessions and dramatic reveals. Each woman knows what the other is up to (they share bedroom walls), but no judgement is ever placed and no friend blowup ever occurs. Their relationship is based on mutual understanding and empathy instead of obvious connection. In fact, these two barely have anything in common, just a shared experience.
Gonthier-Hyndman is nothing short of brilliant in her role. Shifting ever so slightly from a numb husk of her beginnings to the sexually open and adventurous woman she grows into. Her true feelings are never fully revealed, but you can tell her complexity through her micro expressions. Leboeuf gets to be more expressive, but hides her immense sadness underneath a cheery exterior. The pair suit each other well and never upstage the other.
Soleymanlou gets to play off Gonthier-Hyndman as two ships pass in the night, but also gets the film’s largest emotional scene with a late-film monologue. Moati might seem like the least redeemable character, but the film’s recognition of his own ridiculousness gives him some unearned redemption. Nelisse has some biting comic timing at some vital points in the film, as well.
I’m sure people will be turned off by Two Women and its blase approach to sex and infidelity. But if you can shut down the part of your brain that may be outraged, you may be rewarded with an unorthodox tale of modern love.
