Driving Madeleine
A taxi ride across Paris is enlivened by the presence of Line Renaud and Dany Boon.
For the first third of its length Christian Carion’s Driving Madeleine is a delight and it's a film that one very much wants to like because its two leading players, Line Renaud and Dany Boon, are such splendid company. In France their names alone have sold the film although they are less well-known to us. Renaud, both singer and actress, is something of a legend in France while Boon, a comedian who turned to acting and who usually specialises in comic roles, has often featured in films valued more at home than abroad. This is their fourth collaboration and this time Boon is taking on a serious acting role rather than a comic part: he plays Charles, a Parisian taxi driver in his forties who spends hours with his latest fare. Madeleine is a 92-year-old who, following a fall, has accepted that she now needs to live in a rest home where there is medical supervision to hand. She hires Charles’s taxi to take her across Paris to her new abode. But this spirited woman is in no hurry to reach her destination and accordingly encourages Charles to take detours within the city which remind her of earlier events in her life (the young Madeleine is played in flashbacks by Alice Isaaz).
The original title of Carion’s film was Une belle course and one suspects that its English title was chosen quite deliberately to evoke thoughts of another film which featured the growing rapport between a driver and his elderly passenger, 1989’s Driving Miss Daisy. However, I had heard in advance that Driving Madeleine contains elements that make it a very different film from that one, a much darker piece. As it turns out the ‘15’ certificate is no surprise. Early on the talk in the taxi leads to Madeleine reminiscing about her first love at the age of seventeen with an American GI and that fits well enough with the tone of a film that initially delights in offering the audience wide screen views of the Seine and of other parts of Paris. However, when Madeleine's memories lead on to her next love, Ray (Jérémie Laheurte), the film becomes for a while the story of a husband so abusive that the character of the film changes substantially.
The notion of making this a story not confined to sweetness and light is by no means unwelcome, not least because this kind of tale can easily become too sentimental and saccharine. Going a little deeper here initially looks set to work well. One early detour on the journey leads to a site where certain Jewish victims of the Nazis are commemorated and that episode is entirely adroit in the way it touches on the harsher realities of life. But then when it comes to depicting Ray’s true nature the film’s judgment is far less judicious. What makes it problematic is how it is done. First, although Ray is such a repellent figure, he is introduced into the film in an ultra romanticised scene which strikes an almost camp note through its use of the song ‘At Last’ as performed by Etta James. Secondly, the ensuing scenes of violence on Ray’s part lead to a shocking act of retaliation by Madeleine that feels excessive and, thirdly, it is only belatedly that her action can be seen as arguably justifiable because we then learn that Ray’s abuse had been a daily occurrence for five years whereas earlier the film had given no impression of such a time scale.
This aspect of the film would have fitted better had the actions depicted been somewhat less extreme and more effectively presented. As it is, there are also later sequences which in contrast would have gained from being played in a lighter register (one finds Madeleine spinning a yarn to a female cop after Charles has been pulled up for driving through a red light and as presented it feels wholly serious and therefore contrived). It's also the case that Driving Madeleine is not structured to best advantage. Despite the flashbacks used to flesh out Madeleine’s past, the film is firmly focused on the taxi journey and what we learn about the past history of Charles emerges only through what is actually said en route. Consequently, when the taxi reaches its destination there is a sense that the film is about to conclude. But instead there is still almost fifteen minutes to go starting a week later when Charles is looking at a TV image which shows Madeleine as an activist for women's rights. Had that scene opened the film followed by a long flashback covering the taxi ride then it would have gained a structure which would have led naturally and smoothly to the scenes which conclude the film.
The ending of Driving Madeleine is one that finds Carion perfectly willing to move on from the more disturbing aspects of the tale and that is entirely apt. What we get here is exactly what the audience want and they desire it as strongly as they do because of the immense appeal that has been conveyed by Line Renaud and Dany Boon. Indeed, the pleasure that they give us is so potent (reminiscent, indeed, of the pairing of Gérard Depardieu and Gisèle Casadesus in a film which is sometimes echoed here, Jean Becker’s My Afternoon with Marguerite from 2010), that I was inclined to give Driving Madeleine a somewhat higher rating for their sakes. But any such generosity was firmly squashed by an extra scene included within the end credits: it would be wrong to give away exactly what it shows, but it strikes me as one of the most inappropriate and misjudged scenes that I have ever seen in any film.
Original title: Une belle course.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Line Renaud, Dany Boon, Alice Isaaz, Jérémie Laheurte, Gwendoline Hamon, Julie Delaime, Hadriel Roure, Thomas Alden, Christophe Rossignon, Elie Kaempfen, Christian Carion, Léonie Carion.
Dir Christian Carion, Pro Laure Irrmann and Christian Carion, Screenplay Cyril Gely and Christian Carion, Ph Pierre Cottereau, Pro Des Chloé Cambournac Ed Loïc Lallemand, Music Philippe Rombi, Costumes Agnès Noden.
Une Hirondelle Productions/Pathé/TFI Films Production/Artémis/ Shelter Prod/Canal+/Ciné+- Parkland Entertainment.
91 mins. France/Belgium. 2022. UK Rel: 17 November 2023 Cert. 15.