Blue is the Warmest Color

[xrr rating=4.0/5]Blue is the Warmest Color, Abdellatif Kechiche’s Palme d’Or- winning film, has attracted its share of controversy since its debut on the Riviera. Based on Julie Maroh’s graphic novel, Blue is the Warmest Color more than chronicles the beginning, middle and end of a lesbian relationship. It tells the story of a young woman who feels she exists on the outside, never fitting in with family, friends, work or society. Kechiche creates a delicate portrayal of a miserable character, yet much of critical argument is devoted to whether or not the film’s graphic, 10-minute sex scene counts as pornography.

Working with two remarkable actresses in Léa Seydoux and Adèle Exarchopoulos, Kechiche has created a tender and tough look at same-sex love that unflinchingly shows how a relationship can unravel when one member’s lack of self-esteem gets in the way of honesty. When we first meet Adèle (Exarchopoulos), she is a popular high school student, experimenting with sex with boys, yet never quite at ease with her brash group of friends. Kechiche brilliantly films her first encounter with the blue-haired college student Emma (Seydoux), a shared glance while they cross the street. The actresses make that instant palpable, the attraction undeniable. Adèle and Emma don’t meet until later when the former wanders into a lesbian bar, the beginning of the relationship.

Kechiche films Blue is the Warmest Color in ellipses, tracing the two characters over a few years. In the film’s nascent segments, Kechiche creates a throbbing coming-of-age drama, capturing the vagaries of high school with camera: the echoes of the lunchroom, the post-coital debrief amongst friends, the aching fear to hide difference. Adèle’s first encounters with a boy are appropriately awkward, creating a juxtaposition to the ease and fire she displays when she first makes love to Emma.

Kechiche has come under fire for the movie’s sex scenes, ones that he films with clinical precision, the first clue that this is not exploitation. Most films are squeamish about same gender love scenes. In Philadelphia, Tom Hanks and Antonio Banderas barely even hold hands. This is not pornography because it wasn’t created to titillate or arouse. Instead, the sex scenes in Blue is the Warmest Color serve as proof positive and external extrapolation of the fire and passion its characters feel for one another. Maroh has come out against the film since neither actress is lesbian, but the scenes crackle with fiery authenticity. And by pointing his camera unflinchingly as the pair suckle and fondle one another, Kechiche breaks away from the tropes of lesbian films and simply portrays Emma and Adèle as two lovers.

Blue is the Warmest Color succeeds in the minutiae of the relationship, but when Kechiche goes for the grand statement, it falters. At nearly three hours, there are numerous scenes of Adèle teaching that feel superfluous. Extended classroom lectures smack of Kechiche breaking the fourth wall and ramming home subtext and dogma. The two girls talk about Sartre and eating oysters (think Spartacus), two occasions where the dialogue feels forced. Picasso and Klimt also show in discussion. The French just make the rest of us seem so banal.

The inclusion of Picasso is an interesting coincidence as Kechiche has earned a reputation for abusing his actors and crew, news that has leaked as the film earned its release. Picasso is considered one of the greatest artists, but he would hardly rank as a fantastic human being. Ignore the hype and go see Blue is the Warmest Color. There is nothing wrong with the naked human body or watching two people make love. If Adèle and Emma were shooting at each other with pistols, there wouldn’t even be a discussion.