Mark Reviews Movies: SOMEONE SOMEWHERE

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | April 23, 2020

Rémy (François Civil) and Mélanie (Ana Girardot), the main characters of Someone Somewhere, both live in Paris. In fact, they both live in the neighborhood. Beyond that, they live on the same block, and indeed, their apartment buildings are right next door to each other. They even live on the same floor of their respective buildings.

When Mélanie listens to a sad song while sitting in her tub, he can hear the tune, as well as her singing along to it, through the vent of his bathroom—and vice versa, when Rémy decides to play the song to suit his own mood. When she goes out for a cigarette on her balcony, Rémy can see the smoke wafting over toward his own balcony. Proximity, of course, means nothing, especially in a city as large as Paris, where you can spend an entire train ride with the same person every day and not even realize it, frequent the same little shop and not even see each other, or live right next door to someone for years without ever learning his or her name.

Co-writer/director Cédric Klapisch's film is fascinating, not only because of what it does (and does so well), but also because of what it doesn't do. We quickly realize that this story is going to result in Rémy and Mélanie finally meeting each other, after spending months—and maybe even years, depending on how long they've lived in their apartments—so close together yet so far apart. It's the foundation of plenty of romantic comedies, in which two people, who seem destined for one another, meet cute at the end of the first act or, if the filmmakers really want to highlight the notion of romantic destiny, at some point just before the finale.

Decades of seeing such stories have trained us to possess these expectations, and Klapisch and co-screenwriter Santiago Amigorena certainly tease us with that inevitability early into this film. Rémy and Mélanie are mere meters apart whenever they're both home. Both are young, well-off-enough, and attractive, and both of them are pretty lonely and hoping to meet the right person with whom to have a deeper connection.

They're both suffering from problems involving sleep, too. That's where the differences begin, though. Rémy can't sleep, and Mélanie sleeps too much. They wouldn't be a right fit at the start of the story, if only because we see Rémy awake with the light off and Mélanie asleep with the light on.

It's that subtle distinction, amidst a whole lot of coincidences, that prepares us for the story that follows. Klapisch and Amigorena set up their film as a somewhat quirky little romantic comedy that, on the surface, is building up to the inevitable moment when the main characters will meet and hit it off. We see them on the same train, walking next to each other on the street, going into the same store at the same time, and even looking over the scene of a recent fire with an equal level of concern.

It all looks like fate, waiting in the wings to take center stage, yes. After a few close calls when one of the two characters just has to notice the other, though, we might start to think that the screenwriter's idea of destiny is as a practical joker.

The notion of fate basically fades into the background of this story. It's undeniably there, but we stop watching the film with a sense of anticipation. That's because the filmmakers have a different, far more empathetic story to tell. It's not about two souls waiting for the moment that the universe connects. It's about two wounded people, each with their own problems and pains and regrets, and there comes a point at which we stop caring if they'll meet.

We'd much rather watch them come to terms with their pasts, realize that they have a present and a future of promise awaiting them, and learn to love themselves. If they eventually get together, that would be nice, too.

Rémy works at a warehouse that's about to become automated, and his boss gives him an opportunity for a promotion, while most of his co-workers are being laid off or transferred to another place. He clearly feels guilty about this, and on top of or because of that, he's suffering from insomnia. The guy has no friends (When he meets an old classmate, whom he meets after just now starting a social networking account, we can kind of see why), spends those sleepless nights alone in his apartment, and eventually sees a doctor. The doctor refers Rémy to a psychoanalyst (played by François Berléand), who diagnoses him with depression.

Mélanie is a scientist working on cancer research, and she's assigned to make a presentation for the company's board. A year after a break-up with a guy she loved deeply, she's still obsessed with him or the idea of such a relationship. Some friends convince her to join a dating app, and every guy she meets is either boring immediately or shortly after meeting him. Mélanie, too, goes to a psychoanalyst (played by Camille Cottin), who diagnoses her with depression.

The film essentially hooks us with the suggestion of a gimmicky premise, but then Klapisch and Amigorena's focus separates and narrows with admirable precision. They get right into the respective lives of these characters with considerable observational skill, and then the screenplay constricts even more on the specifics of the problems that have led Rémy and Mélanie to doubt their self-worth, their sense of worth for others, and their worthiness to lead a happy life. Civil and Girardot are both charming in their roles (a necessity, perhaps, for the idea of romance hanging out in the backdrop), but there's also specific, significant depth in the ways they play flip sides of the results of depression.

The filmmakers are sympathetic and wise in their portrayal of that mental health affliction and, more importantly, how the healing process is just that—a process, to be taken in small steps and genuine self-reflection. Someone Somewhere, then, isn't quite the film it promises to be (although the payoff is lovely, thinking about all the weird stories and coincidences these two will have to share). Instead, it's a much better, more fulfilling one.

Note: Someone Somewhere is available from Distrib Films US through a virtual theatrical experience with Vimeo. You can rent the film for home viewing, and half of the net proceeds will support your local independent theater (e.g., the Music Box Theatre in Chicago). For more information and to purchase access to the film, click here. Participating theaters are listed on the page.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products