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‘Three Friends’ Review: A Loosely Knotted French Braid of Not-So-Illicit Affairs
Emmanuel Mouret channels Woody Allen from the opening credits onwards in 'Three Friends,' a diverting but surface-level relationship comedy.
Drolly unpicking the sexual and emotional entanglements of three Lyon gal pals hovering around 40 — two married, one single, none fulfilled — Mouret’s film won’t strike anyone as fresh, either within his directorial oeuvre or that whole cinematic subgenre dedicated to French philandering, but it’s easy, breezy, pleasingly grownup viewing. Mouret’s script, co-written with Carmen Leroi, weaves these slender strands into a neat snapshot of Xennial relationship politics — at least among the particular urban-bourgeois subset that these films tend to revolve around, with their comfy knitwear, repertory cinema dates and roomy homes haphazardly stacked with books. “Three Friends” is sparing with such intensity: Mouret’s direction is brisk and businesslike, with little expressive flair in Laurent Desmet’s soft, slightly washed-out lensing or Benjamin Esdraffo’s dainty keys-and-strings score, amply filled out with familiar classical pieces by Mozart, Ravel, Mendelssohn and more.
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