Key Takeaways
- Rebecca Zlotowski felt unprecedented creative freedom while making A Private Life, largely thanks to collaborating with Jodie Foster and having recently completed a personal course of therapy.
- The film blends several genres – psychological drama, murder mystery, marital comedy, and Jewish‑inflected humor – allowing viewers to engage with it on multiple levels.
- Zlotowski deliberately avoided a single‑genre label, aiming for an “organic” flow that invites the audience to interpret the story as they wish, while still delivering a clear resolution to the central mystery.
- Lilian Steiner’s arc moves from a disengaged, self‑absorbed therapist to someone who rediscovers passion for her work, a transformation mirrored in her rekindled chemistry with ex‑husband Gabriel (Daniel Auteuil).
- The director cites influences ranging from Hitchcock and Fritz Lang to Lynch and Fellini, noting that the film’s playful use of doors, symbols, and semi‑conscious imagery reflects those cinematic traditions.
- Zlotowski emphasizes that her filmmaking process remains personal and somewhat repetitive (working with the same core crew), yet each project feels distinct because her life experiences and evolving interests shape the narrative.
Rebecca Zlotowski’s latest film, A Private Life (Vie Privée), centers on Lilian Steiner, a bilingual psychiatrist portrayed by Jodie Foster. Lilian becomes convinced that her patient, Paula Cohen‑Solal (Virginie Efira), did not simply commit suicide but was first murdered by her daughter Valérie (Luana Bajrami) and then by her husband Simon (Mathieu Amalric). In her obsessive investigation, Lilian drags along her ex‑husband Gabriel Haddad (Daniel Auteuil), an encounter that unexpectedly reignites a spark between the former couple. The narrative therefore intertwines a murder‑mystery premise with a nuanced exploration of personal transformation and rekindled romance.
Zlotowski describes the making of the film as a period of unprecedented freedom. Working with Foster—a long‑time dream collaboration—allowed her to trust her instincts and dive into material that felt deeply personal. She notes that the freedom was also bolstered by having recently finished a five‑year stint in therapy; the experience left her open to exploring the inner lives of her characters without the constraints of genre expectations. While she initially hesitated to label the film as a thriller, comedy, or drama, she ultimately embraced the idea that it could contain all of those elements, a notion that Foster enthusiastically supported.
The film’s tone is immediately set by a humorous opening scene in which Lilian spars with her upstairs neighbor. Zlotowski explains that the humor draws from Jewish joking traditions, where the punchline is not always obvious and the audience must decide whether to “get it.” This approach prevents the laughter from feeling mocking; instead, it highlights familiar human foibles, making Lilian—a flawed therapist, a somewhat neglectful mother, and a self‑described “cockblocker”—endearing despite her shortcomings. Zlotowski acknowledges that Lilian is not the warmest protagonist, but the film charts her gradual softening as she reconnects with her professional purpose and, through her interactions with Gabriel, rediscovers a capacity for empathy.
Gabriel’s presence is pivotal to Lilian’s evolution. Daniel Auteuil, who hails from southern France, brings a meridional warmth that contrasts with Lilian’s more reserved demeanor. Zlotowski points out that Auteuil’s versatility—his ability to oscillate between comedy and drama—adds a layer of tenderness to their scenes together, exemplified by a rain‑soaked car conversation where he asks for a cigarette and invites her to reflect on their separation. This dynamic not only makes Lilian more sympathetic to viewers but also provides a narrative vehicle for her personal growth.
While the film’s shifting tones and layered with some viewers labeling it confusing, Zlotowski argues that any perceived opacity stems from the film’s deliberate freedom rather than a lack of clarity. She likens the experience to the works of Paul Thomas Anderson, where genre boundaries blur and the narrative unfolds organically. Nevertheless, she assures that the central question—whether Paula’s death was suicide or murder—is answered definitively by the film’s conclusion, providing a satisfying resolution amid the ambiguity.
Zlotowski’s cinematic references are eclectic yet purposeful. She acknowledges Hitchcockian echoes in the film’s suspenseful door‑opening motifs, while also citing Fritz Lang’s expressionist influence and the surreal, symbolic undertones of Spellbound and Nightmare Alley. The film’s exploration of characters’ inner lives and pasts feels Lynchian or Felliniesque, as she attempts to visualize the unconscious through vivid, symbolic imagery. This blend of influences allows her to construct a playground where thriller mechanics coexist with psychological introspection and comedic levity.
When asked about her evolving filmography, Zlotowski admits to a certain obsessiveness—she often works with the same producer, composer, cinematographer, and core crew, which creates a sense of continuity. Yet each project feels distinct because her life experiences, fears, and desires shift over time. She cites Sidney Lumet’s varied output as an aspirational model, though her own method relies heavily on writing to discover the story rather than relying solely on rehearsal. The director concludes with a reflection on staying interested in the world, echoing Jane Fonda’s sentiment that artistic vitality lies not in being an interesting person but in maintaining curiosity.
A Private Life premiered in UK cinemas on June 26, offering audiences a multifaceted experience that can be read as a murder mystery, a marriage‑centered comedy, a Jewish‑tinged psychological drama, or a character study of a therapist reclaiming her passion. Zlotowski’s invitation to the audience—to “connect to one part of it or not”—underscores her belief in an engaged, narrative‑literate viewership capable of appreciating a film that refuses to be pigeonholed.