Film Review: Both Sides of the Blade

Director: Claire Denis
Starring: Juliet Binoche, Vincent Lindon
Running time: 116 minutes

A swathe of blue sea pollutes the screen; two bodies move through it, hand in hand, as the sun beams down. It is clear there is a deep and long connection. Without any dialogue, just the beautiful melodies played by Tindersticks, we are painted an expressionistic picture of a couple very clearly in love. These two lovers are Sara (Juliet Binoche) and Jean (Vincent Lindon) and the deep ties that bind their romance slowly come undone in Claire Denis' latest drama. 

"Both Sides of the Blade" is a title with a very literal meaning, derived from a lyric from the song's theme: “I’m sliding down both sides of the blade”. Sara is stuck on the knife's edge; one side is her stable relationship with Jean, and on the other side is her previous love with Francios (Gregoire Colin) – who reappears in their life after disappearing ten years prior. Francios and Jean also used to be best friends until he disappeared and Jean ended up in prison, causing Jean’s relationship with his son Marcus to disintegrate – although through Denis’ classic elliptic filmmaking it is never clear if these two events are directly linked. Like many of her previous films Denis, along with co-screenwriter Christine Angot, keep the film ambiguous and largely free from exposition, forcing the audience to try to piece the story together themselves. 

Despite being marketed as a drama, very often the film verges into the territory of an erotic thriller. Frequently Denis and cinematographer Éric Gautier switch the camera to a much more tighter, handheld camera that instantly triggers a more claustrophobic feeling. This is initially done when Sara first spots Francios on the street, with the camera flickering back between them. Another brilliant use of this is when Sara enters a crowded event to meet Francios for the first time in ten years. The scene becomes increasingly cramped and verges on almost becoming stressful due the combination of the camera movements with the brooding score. These elements amalgamate and create a lasting, palpable tension that seeps into almost every scene of the film.

Alongside creating rich sonic textures through the use of music and intricately detailed sound design, Denis uses facial expressions and small gestures to tell large parts of the story – which often adds to the ambiguity. We are not told until much later about the previous relationship of Sara and Francios; from the way Binoche showcases a look of both deep surprise and sadness, it doesn’t feel clear if this man is dangerous or just somebody she used to know. Francios is a mysterious figure who looms constantly in the background of the film. His enigmatic existence is only briefly explained and these gaps cause every scene where he appears to have an ominous feeling about them.

Stories about the disintegration of a modern marriage are nothing new and while this film doesn’t dynamically shake the formula up, there are very few people who can capture the intimacies of everyday life like Denis can. Someone placing a hand on their lover's side of the bed to discover they are not there, the grip of someone you haven’t seen in almost ten years, or the silent glance from a son where a vast amount of distance has grown between him and the father. It is all of these small moments of tender naturalism that culminate to provide a deeply emotional experience. These are punctuated with bursts of verbal aggression between Jean and Sara, that get progressively more intense as the film plays out. Each argument shows further cracks in the foundations of their relationship, until it crescendos into its fatalistic ending.

Scenes that require this amount of precise dialogue could come off annoying or overwrought but both leads are terrific – as you would expect from powerhouses like Binoche and Lindon. Binoche’s ability to capture the psychological terror as she realises everything she has held dear too for ten years is coming undone is incredible; using her entire body to act, with Denis capturing each expression with such rich detail. It is really Vincent Lindon’s performance that stands as the highlight though. He has a fantastic ability to switch between a gruff, hard edged, weary man who feels like he is about to explode abruptly into violence; and a sensitive individual who is struggling to cope with the crumbling relationships he has with his wife and son.

After her expedition to the lonely depths of space with 2018’s High Life, Claire Denis has returned to her Parisian roots and delivers a riveting drama that contains many of the things she does very best: a milieu of lonely characters, elliptic storytelling that leaves many things left unsaid, another fantastic Tindersticks score and absolutely gorgeous compositions. While it doesn’t cover much new ground, the film remains a thoroughly enjoyable experience that will not disappoint.

Both Sides of the Blade is showing at Broadway Cinema until Thursday 29 September