Somewhere in the coastal town of Biarritz sits a hotel – in it resides Gilles (Patrick Dewaere), the son of the owner of the establishment, and a young man who has just returned from a trip to New York City. One evening, he is almost run over by a passing motorist, who turns out to be Hélène (Catherine Deneuve), a mysterious woman who he soon learns is an anesthesiologist at the local hospital. Their meeting was certainly not under the most pleasant circumstances, but it seems to be the work of fate, since both of them soon find themselves feeling a growing attraction to one another. However, there are several problems with the romantic feelings – they’re both profoundly broken people, who find themselves in this town purely out of necessity, knowing that moving away will bring them better opportunities, and perhaps even a higher standard of living, but rob them of the comforts of living in relative obscurity, interacting with the same small group of people, and essentially being shielded from the outside world. Their relationship grows stronger, and in the process, both begin to learn more about one another, with Hélène in particular revealing herself to possess a rich, deep background that has strong connections to a tragic event in this very town, which has caused her to recede into a numb trauma, and which Gilles believes he can help her remedy through providing for her what no one else seems willing to. However, this romance is not one without its challenges, and as they begin to make an impact on each other’s lives, they begin to realize the challenges that face them, since while they may share a deep love, they both have unresolved issues tied to this town and its people, from which there is very little escape, at least in terms of the indelible impression such a location can leave on its residents.

When it comes to achingly beautiful representations of the human condition, it’s difficult to find someone better than André Téchiné, whose entire career has been composed of elegant, thoughtful glimpses into the trials and tribulations of different characters in a variety of temporal and geographical spaces. The specific stories might tend to vary, but they all share a few common themes, which are often reflected in the most fundamental components of the story, with the director tackling some very difficult subject matter with precision and an earnest interest in unpacking some ideas that have bewildered artists for as long as stories centred on existence (in this case, the origins of love) have been told. Hôtel des Amériques is one of the director’s most enigmatic stories, an unconventional romantic drama created in a way that mirrors less the cinematic traditions of the genre, and more the intricate, interwoven components of a real love story, as filtered through the experiences of two profoundly complex protagonists. Authentic, but still profoundly cinematic, the film is an extraordinary ode to the melancholy that comes with longing for the touch of another, but the challenges that come when one realizes that there is dangers in vulnerability, especially in the process of opening up to another person and revealing our deepest insecurities, and the past events that put us in that particular mental and physical space. Téchiné curates a collection of meaningful moments, weaving together a series of small, intricate emotions into the lives of these characters, and quietly deconstructing the very nature of romance, which only leads to a beautifully poetic tale of love, loss and everything in between.

Téchiné touches on some very important themes, but never in a way that comes across as heavy-handed, keeping the story layered without becoming convoluted. His style is always one that is built on authenticity, rather than following the same overwrought conventions of lesser romantic dramas. There’s a natural quality to his work, which is definitely present in Hôtel des Amériques, contributing to the enigmatic narrative, and the inventive structure that gives us an unfettered glimpse into the triumphs and difficulties of a very different kind of romance. There is a lack of inhibition in this film, which creates a loose, ambigious structure that allows the director to explore the intricacies of the central relationship, making some very meaningful statements to the nature of romance, and how one’s past often influences every action they undertake moving forward. It’s not a particularly complex film – outside of a vaguely experimental structure, and a tone that suggests there is always something deeper underpinning each interaction, Hôtel des Amériques remains a relatively straightforward account of a growing romance – but it’s in this very simple way of telling this story that Téchiné is capable of extracting the most significant emotional content. He finds the right balance between the steadily growing dependency of the two characters on one another, and the more mysterious underlying concepts that occur alongside this process, and creates a symbiosis between the two that is constantly hinting at something much deeper and more profound residing just beneath the surface. The more we immerse ourselves into the world of these characters, the further we understand their particular quandaries – and while the film does have something of a compelling resolution (albeit far from a happy ending), we’re constantly questioning the actions of these characters, not receiving any explicit guidance, but rather implications of their intentions, which puts us in the position of passive observers to their tumultuous lives, and even more peculiar romance.

At the centre of Hôtel des Amériques are two excellent performances, which have the vital quality of being both compelling individually, and powerful when together. Catherine Deneuve, who was now firmly in the era of her career where she was no longer restricted to roles as ingénue or objects of desire, and could not explore more complex character, commands the film as Hélène, a successful woman who has unfortunately lost far more than she has gained. Elegant and ethereal, Deneuve’s finest work is that which makes use of her inherent qualities, but constantly pushes her to try something new, a tendency that she has maintained, well into her older years. Hôtel des Amériques is a very simple performance from the actress, but one that is driven by a sense of strong conviction – she may be someone whose method of mourning is to retreat from life, but she’s not aloof to the point where the audience is turned away whenever we try to penetrate her stoic veneer. Deneuve is capable of the kind of internal expressivity that not many actresses have been capable of showing, finding the truth in every moment without becoming too heavy-handed in her approach. However, the heart and soul of this film is undeniably Patrick Dewaere, the promising actor whose career (which already spanned many decades, even at this relatively young age) was cut short by his own personal troubles. In the part of Gilles, he is the emotional centre of Hôtel des Amériques, playing a wayward young man trying to find his place in the world, but realizing that he may not have the capacity to succeed in the way that many expect. His romance with Deneuve’s character is built on both the very traditional concept of attraction, but also a sense of trying to rectify his insecurities, simply by being someone who is both desirable and dependable. Dewaere is absolutely sensational in this film, his quieter moments being just as beautiful as his incredible chemistry with Deneuve. The two actors bring out the best in one another, and manage to accomplish something quite special with even the most challenging material, which could be considered emotionally draining had the actors involved in bringing it to screen not done so with the most absolute conviction.

Loneliness encompasses every moment in Hôtel des Amériques, which is less a film about a simple romance, and more a rousing, experimental glimpse into the process of not only falling in love, but also maintaining it in the midst of learning about your partner’s past. Too many films that focus on passionate love affairs tend to neglect the fact that falling in love can sometimes be an instantaneous process, and that it can be a while before you’re finally confronted with the full scope of who the person across from you is – and throughout this film, Téchiné is drawing back the curtain on a particular romance, one that isn’t remarkable by any standard, and showing the obstacles that can come about when two profoundly lonely, broken individuals find themselves falling in love. Sharing such a connection can be both a blessing and a curse, since finding someone who can understand your own deep-rooted vulnerabilities can appear to be something of a salvation, but in the same way, it can only worsen the insecurities, especially if they’re battling their own quandaries as well. Romance can heal, but it can also scar, which is the thesis statement of Hôtel des Amériques, a tender and harrowing portrayal of modern romance, told with a sincerity that can only be composed by someone with as keen an understanding of the intricacies of human behaviour as Téchiné. He crafts a beautiful film that observes the smallest, most intricate details of a conventional romance, and repurposes them in a way that gives clear insights into the challenges ordinary people face. A seamless combination of soaring romance and character-driven drama that depicts the aftermath of trauma better than most, Hôtel des Amériques is a fascinating entry into the career of a filmmaker whose vivid, evocative depictions of life, love and loss are some of the finest ever put on film.