The_Film_That_Changed_My_Life

The Soft Skin
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But those statements are constantly being underscored or betrayed by the
look of longing on this guy’s face, or the wife is understanding what’s going
on, or the indecisiveness of this young woman who probably isn’t ready for
these kinds of feelings. She has a very telling monologue when they’re on
their short vacation, saying, “I like this, I like love, but I can go without it for
months. I was too young to understand it when it first happened.”
There’s that amazing moment near the end where a guy comes up to her
and propositions her, and she doesn’t just walk away; she grabs him and
screams at him and puts his face in the mirror and says, “Look at yourself.
You think that people are going to be interested in you?” It’s like everything
that she’s been feeling explodes in this guy’s face. Of course it’s not enough;
she stills goes off into this other trajectory. It’s unstoppable.
A lot of Truffaut’s love stories—whether it’s Jules et Jim or Antoine et
Colette—it’s been written that those women demand all or nothing.
“Perfect love or death,” I think was the quote. Do you think traditionally
that women characters have been boxed in by that perception, or is
it just a metaphor for how differently men and women view love?
LaBute: Probably a bit of both. I think some would find that very limiting
and some would find it very freeing. And it just depends on where you are
in your own life and how you interpret that. You could be on either side of
that triangle and feel very differently about that film. You could watch that
film at two different times in your life and feel very differently. I think that’s
what lasts about it, and what’s perfect about it in its own way—it’s very much
of its time and yet it’s quite unbound by its time as well.
I think it’s pretty classic in that way, and I think the portrayal of women
is quite modern—they’re quite free to make their own decisions, and I think
there’s still the rigidity of convention there, but I think you’re seeing people
who are kinda breaking free of that, sometimes so forcefully, like what
Franca ends up doing. And in a simple way, just kind of awful, brutal indifference.
“Indifference” is probably too strong a word, but the way in which
Nicole breaks up with him: they’re looking around that apartment; she’s kind
of, “Eh, I’m probably not really ready for this. We could still meet every so
often.” You know, it’s such an unemotional moment, really. And even on his
face, he realizes what a mistake he’s made.