In 2013, the Taubira Law granting same-sex couples marriage equality and the right to adopt children, was signed into effect in France. However, where one bureaucratic injustice ended, another began as Alice Douard explores in her debut feature Love Letters. Just because the right to adopt was legal, didn’t mean it didn’t require a few hurdles to jump through. But love and determination is a force to be reckoned with in this minor-key drama about the path towards parenthood.
Nadia (Monia Chokri) is six months pregnant, and the reality that life with her wife Céline (Ella Rumpf) is going to change forever is running fast at the pair. As much as they are eager to look ahead, they are forced to look back as Céline must submit fifteen written testimonies from friends and family after their daughter is born to court in order to be legally recognized as a parent. As Céline reaches out to those around her, she’s forced to reckon with her resentment toward her own mother — a famous pianist — for her difficult childhood. Nadia must also wrestle with her own parents still accepting she’s queer and their hang-ups about becoming grandparents to a child conceived via IVF.
Douard’s script is gentle, as Nadia and Céline maintain a united front, even in the moments when they take their emotions out on each other. This focus is mostly on Céline as she navigates the unique situation of becoming a mother without carrying the pregnancy. Will she be jealous of the biological bond Nadia will have with their daughter? Will she be ready for just how gross and exasperating kids can be, something Céline experiences when she babysits her friend’s children? Most importantly, will she be present in the way her own mother wasn’t, off touring the world or leaving her alone in hotel rooms?
The relationship built by Rumpf and Chokri is tender and understanding, though one wishes Douard had put a little more grit in the eye. Céline, a DJ and soundperson, doesn’t contend with how her career might change or if she’s reckoned with the fact she might have to give it up completely. Neither contemplates how friendships might evolve or disappear; it’s a common observation among new parents that they quickly fall out of touch with their childless friends. It would also would’ve been nice to see someone in their circle push back a little bit harder about their readiness to raise a child.
Love Letters observes, in its own quiet way, that nobody is ever completely ready to raise a child. The stroller will always be a pain to collapse and open, the baby will never sleep when you want it to, but a child will also surprise and love you in ways that will be wonderfully expected. The picture closes on a beautiful note, that is also its truest: holding their daughter Mathilde in the delivery room, Céline, radiant, looks over at Nadia, glowing, and asks what’s the baby doing? “I don’t know,” Nadia laughs, with a melody that anyone who has looked at a baby and wondered what they think of the world around them will recognize.
Director, screenplay: Alice Douard
Producers: Marine Arrighi de Casanova, Marie Boitard, Alice Douard
Cast: Ella Rumpf, Monia Chokri, Noémie Lvovsky, Jeanne Herry, Eva Huaut, Pauline Bayle, Émilie Brisavoine, Julien Gaspar-Oliveri, Emy Juretzko, Philippe Petit, Aude Pépin, Hamza Meziani, Édouard Sulpice, Félix Kysyl, Anne Le Ny, Hammou Graïa, Tom Harari
Production design: Anne-Sophie Delseries
Costume design: Pauline Juille
Editing: Pierre Deschamps
Music: Hamburger Records – Raphaël Hamburger
Sound: Erwan Kerzanet, Vincent Vatoux, Caroline Reynaud, Olivier Guillaume
Production companies: Apsara Films (France), Les Films de June (France)
World sales: Pulsar Content
Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Critics Week)
In French
97 minutes
