Riviera Revenge is a semi-romantic comedy about an elderly couple grappling with the revelation of infidelity from forty years ago. Directed by Ivan Calbérac, the film is titled “N’Avoue Jamais” in the original French: Never Admit. I could never admit to disliking this film, but I can’t quite sing its praises. First, to be pretentious, I need to affirm that “yes, this is funnier in the original French.” Second, I found this film to be pleasant. Not without its problems, but definitely pleasant.

The film begins with a slapstick revenge plot. The first twenty minutes of the film introduces the viewer to François (André Dussollier) and Annie (Sabine Azéma), an empty-nester couple and their three adult children on Annie's birthday. There’s a montage of their grand house, taking care to showcase all of François’ military honours. There’s the family awkwardly singing François’ birthday interpretation of the French national anthem. There’s also the discovery of passionate love letters in the attic addressed to Annie from her lover Boris (Thierry Lhermitte)–a former neighbour not seen for decades. This discovery incites a desire for revenge from François that leads to the couple travelling to Nice, as Annie insists on coming along to help identify her former lover. In another film, one would probably feel a sense of sympathy towards François yet, since the man is, as the French say, a con, it’s near impossible not to laugh.  

The couple travel to Nice and confront Boris. Nice is portrayed in all its ravishing Riviera glory, an ensemble of picturesque establishing shots paired with light upbeat French pop—a cinematic testament to the charming Mediterranean side of France. François’ military background is put to work, at a frankly hyperbolic level. We see him call a contact in the military to stalk his wife’s ex-lover—an abuse of power if you ask me—and constantly making references to his glory days. I’m not a particularly big fan of the military myself, but I concede that the way the film’s writers leaned into the reconnaissance angle adds to the comedy in an almost absurd manner.

Once we finally meet Boris, the film takes an unexpected emotional turn. Frankly, from this point forward, there was a solid ten or twenty minutes in this film where I wholeheartedly believed the film was heading down a Challengers-esque trio route. After a slapstick affair with a shovel, this new trio ends up having a comedically tense lunch together, where it is revealed to both the audience and Annie that François had been married to a woman named Sophie prior to them getting together. The subsequent ten minutes had me convinced it would be a foursome! While this would have been a welcome expansion to the film’s artfully complex and genuine discussions of infidelity, the subject returns to monogamy. The conflict between François and Annie only grows deeper as the film continues. When the fight rears its ugly head towards their children, it is Annie who takes a stand to leave—and we finally get to see François fight for her, rather than because of her. It’s not the most convincing of narratives. Annie flip-flops between repentance and audacity, often within the same scene. François is, while rightfully so, deeply annoying. There’s only so much complaining I can take from an old French guy. 

Thankfully, our main characters are abundant in chemistry. From their beginning as a long-married couple, to the crux of the film as lovers at odds, to their eventual reconciliation, they work together with lighting-fire dialogue and age-inappropriate physical comedy–there’s a scene where Dussollier gets trapped in a fold-up bed and I couldn’t help but grimace for the old man’s back. The excessively traditional military man versus the passionately nonchalant wife (the oxymoron is intentional and deeply French) leads to an engaging push-and-pull dynamic expertly captured by the actors, both veterans of the French film industry whose performances elevate the material.

Adjacent to the exploration of François, Annie, and their extra—and intra—marital issues, there is a rather earnest endeavour to unpack François’ relationship with his three children. Amaury, the eldest son with the same military tendencies as his dad and a growing family of four daughters; Capucine, his only daughter; and Adrien, a performance artist who works with marionette puppets. It all comes together in a generational cycle of validation. The two brothers crave their father’s attention. Capucine, through a comedic series of miscommunication, comes out to her parents as a lesbian and introduces them to her fiancée Mika. The emotional crux of the film is when François finally attends Adrien’s puppet show after years of reluctance. The stalwart military man is shown tearing up through gut-punch close-up shots. Upon seeing his father give a standing ovation in the audience, Adrien breaks down crying. This family exploration is truly one of the film’s strengths.

Unfortunately, the last five minutes of the film—a callback to the opening birthday scene—almost completely undermined emotional development for the sake of what I considered a rather cheap circle-back. But still. Love stories about older couples are way more engaging and dramatic than the cultural zeitgeist gives them credit for. Seniors have way more baggage and experience. While I can’t say I totally loved this film, I can affirm that there are lessons to be taken from it. The most relevant of those would be: polyamory will not fix your problems, but this film should have given it a shot anyway.