Insatiable desire and irreconcilable faith are the basis for My Night at Maud’s (French: Ma nuit chez Maud), the darkly comical social fable from Éric Rohmer, who was at the peak of exploring his interest in the influence of morality (or rather the lack thereof) on the human condition, and how the smallest idiosyncrasies of life all converge into something much larger, and perhaps even too intimidating for us to conceive of immediately. A dialogue-driven film that oscillates between quaint comedy and serious existential drama (with enormous overtures of romance thrown in for good measure), and one that asserts itself as being something of a cinematic interpretation of Alain Robbe-Grillet’s theories that underpin the nouveau roman, which blend with the principles of the French New Wave to be something extraordinarily layered and utterly incredible, in both the intelligence of its intentions and the brilliance of its execution. Certainly amongst the most famous works Rohmer produced, and for good reason, My Night at Maud’s is a subversive glimpse at everyday life, produced with the sincerity that hearken back to neo-realism, with the director delivering a story that delves deep into the root of our existence, peering into the collective souls of the youth at a particular temporal moment, and investigating the causes of their ennui that just fail to be comparable to the more tangible problems of previous generations. A film that resounds with a candour that still remains relevant, especially considering how so much of what this film says about our urges seems oddly familiar to how people still struggle to react to some of life’s more challenging questions.

Rohmer was a filmmaker whose work always had incredible depth, which becomes increasingly clear as one starts to become ensnared in his peculiar brand of straightforward but extraordinarily layered style of representing life. One of his moral tales, My Night at Maud’s looks at two fundamental existential concepts that are not necessarily mutually exclusive, but tend to intertwine in very unpredictable ways, which is something the director is intent on exploring here. The themes of the film are, as mentioned before, desire and faith, with the story focusing on how they intersect, and the ways in which this can often incite great despair in those who are unfortunately victim to the irresistible pull that comes from either side of these seemingly-incompatible urges that tend to influence (or is it afflict?) the majority of individuals. My Night at Maud’s almost seems to have voyeuristic intentions – the director’s style isn’t unapproachable, but it does keep the audience at a safe distance so that we’re able to perceive these characters and their various quandaries without shattering the fragile artistic membrane that Rohmer does his best to dismantle without putting us directly in contact with the individuals depicted. It’s certainly something that the aforementioned nouveau roman focused on, especially in how the film explores the concept of individuality, and the personal relationship each of us have with some broader social and cultural conventions. The film is remarkably precise in what it wants to say, rarely wasting a moment on something that isn’t necessary, and instead choosing to construct something extremely realistic, and infusing some sense of narrative subversion through doing so. There’s nothing about this film that can be considered anywhere close to obtuse, with Rohmer demonstrating a genuine understanding of the various machinations of life, which he represents through a story that is both quiet in its sophistication, rousing it its wit, and remarkably captivating, despite a deliberate pace used to portray the banality of life, as well as the repetitiveness of routine, and the ramifications or rewards that come with stepping out of your conventions, even if only momentarily.

The film doesn’t offer anything much in terms of social commentary – the director’s aim here was clearly not to challenge, but to represent with only slight provocation of form and content, which he delivers through an elegant, if not slightly ambiguous, tale of a group of ordinary individuals traversing life in radically different ways, yet still converging in them experiencing many of the same moral dilemmas and existential predicament, which is less indicative of them having the same mental processes, but living in a society, both geographically and in terms of the more metaphysical aspects of the culture, that tend to confuse more than they clarify. Despite this, the film does offer a lot more than just being a collection of lengthy discussions – inarguably, My Night at Maud’s is composed almost entirely of conversations between any combination of the four central characters, all of which have distinct personalities and individual needs, which come about in Rohmer’s ability to distribute attention between all of them, giving time to each one of his unique creations to assert themselves as being indelible parts of this story – despite the focus on Jean-Louis, My Night at Maud’s looks at a slightly broader set of ideals that are funnelled through the quartet of performances, with the film building on their intellectual and carnal relationships as a way of propelling the film forward. All four of the leads are exceptional – Marie-Christine Barrault is the image of conflicted innocence as the young woman who yearns to break free of the confines of her Catholic existence, and Antoine Vitez is wonderfully irreverent as the hubristic Vidal, who does everything he can to demonstrate his intelligence. However, the film is grounded by the two most prominent character – Françoise Fabian is incredible as the titular Maud, being both alluring and standoffish in a way that only draws us further to her, and Jean-Louis Trintignant is terrific as the aimless young man who tries to navigate a world he has never been able to understand, despite experiencing so much of it.

My Night at Maud’s is a very simple film and one that is driven almost entirely by the dialogue, the result of a fascinating screenplay written by Rohmer, who so wonderfully manages to convey the many questions these characters have, providing answers without promising long-lasting solutions. However, despite appearing to be quite orderly and simple in execution, the film could not be more disruptive in terms of the message it conveys – suddenly, the social inhibitions that govern existence are no longer mandatory, but simply, like anything else in life, purely a choice. We can question who truly was liberated – was it Maud, whose arrival in her profound sexuality came later in life than most, or Françoise, who finds solace in remaining firm in her morals, even if she herself questions her own desires. Who is the real intellectual – the pompous Vidal, who parades his knowledge through his impressive vocabulary and depth of knowledge, or the humble Jean-Louis, whose wealth is not represented in any tangible way, but rather manifests in his steadfast beliefs, but also his insatiable curiosity to see how far he can go before crossing the moral boundaries? My Night at Maud’s places four distinct individuals at the centre, each one of them representing a different kind of character relating to society and how youth exist within it. Rohmer extends himself beyond mere archetypes in constructing these characters are more than just bundles of neuroses and existential despair, but rather fascinating, fully-formed figures that every viewer will be able to latch onto, even if their precise traits or conundrums are not particularly resonant.

Rohmer’s style has always worked best when the story is kept as simple as possible – and whether working within a more contemporary framework or situating the plot in the past, the same overtly powerful message of individuality and intense plight that comes with those that are incredibly aware of the challenges that come with realizing there is more to life than we initially expect. My Night at Maud’s conveys the idea that a lot of the answers aren’t sought out by attending universities or churches, nor through satiating visceral desires, but rather from within – everything else that we use as a means of justifying our metaphysical curiosities facilitate, rather than guide, our voyages of self-discovery. The beauty of Rohmer’s work is that he never fails to tell very simple stories, but ones that harbour much deeper meanings, which manifest in the quietest moments. Expressive and beautifully-composed, My Night at Maud’s dives deep into the collective soul of an entire generation, delivering a compelling, humourous ode to reckless youth and the confusing nature of the ambiguous moral chasm that occurs between the last stages of our young adult years, and the beginning of a stage in our lives when important questions, particularly those that pertain to our own existence, tend to come to the fore. Rohmer has made such a powerful expression of the human condition, showing its many quirks while still introducing us to a more meaningful concept of existence, which makes all the difference in a film the purports to be not only authentic but honest in its moral intentions, which all works out in making My Night at Maud’s an incredibly riveting social fable that manages to say a lot more than its humble appearance would lead you to expect.