A student is devastated when he finds that his girlfriend is cheating on him. In order to find out why she did it, he decides to spy on her and her airline pilot lover. Then he sees the pilot with a blonde woman and he begins to follow them…
Die Frau des Fliegers oder Man kann nicht an nichts denken, Comédies et Proverbes: La femme de l'aviateur ou 'on ne saurait penser à rien', La mujer del aviador, A Mulher do Aviador, La moglie dell'aviatore, 飛行士の妻, Жена летчика, 飛行員的妻子, Pilotens kvinne, Die Frau des Fliegers, 飞行员的妻子, Pilotova žena aneb Nelze myslet na nic, 비행사의 아내, მფრინავის ცოლი
France
USA
Spain
Spain
Netherlands
South Korea12
France
Netherlands
South Korea
Spain
USA
98/100
A film I adore both for what it is and for what it stubbornly isn't...which is marvelously strange, even paradoxical, since they're one and the same. My first viewing happened to be in 1995, a few months after Before Sunrise opened; while I'd thoroughly enjoyed Linklater's impromptu romance, it's this chance encounter on public transit and subsequent promenade that represents my dream scenario of meeting the love of my life. (Well, she'd be older than 15 in my dream.) Like so many classic onscreen relationships, François and Lucie's is lightly combative, its dynamic predicated on his utter obliviousness (due to keeping one eye on Christian at all times) and her teasing fascination with the ever-shifting rationale for his presence…
rohmer makes everything seem so effortless, from locking eyes with someone on public transit, to convincing a stranger to take your picture without even asking, to falling asleep while reading in a cafe. it all flows & carries you along with it.
One of the saddest films. And not just because of the tragic fate of Philippe Marlaud, but also for the film’s nuances on love and chance encounters that lead nowhere and yet reveal everything.
She’s the one
who steers me through dust
and pools, the one who guides me
across the city, who helps me
when I can’t move my eyes
She turns my head and says,
"There is a post office;
there is a public theater ..."
- Robert Fernandez
A very fresh and "green" movie - Rohmer had me at tree fetish.
things me and françois have in common:
- constantly worrying about things they shouldn't
- creates problems for themselves by overthinking everything
- drinks a lot of coffee but still tired all the time
- fondness for jean jackets
- should really just fucking relax
84
My second Éric Rohmer film after a long-ago watch of The Green Ray. What's most impressive, at least to me in the shallow end of his filmography, is his patience for building up and then dismantling our expectations of who these characters are trying to be, evolving from selfishness to a sense of commonality in their outsider struggles. Romance, in practice and as a concept, in The Aviator's Wife is distant and messy. It's so fleeting that Rohmer's camera often doesn't call attention to the details that catch your eye, but the ramifications linger in major forms. As spectators, the simplicity of the Paris setting is disarming in comparison to the complexities of how love and chance intertwine, especially within the context of observing insecure, paranoid individuals. The 16mm photography, evoking a muted design and naturalism in the locations, is absurdly gorgeous.
Tree fetish? Oh my god, these French girls are crazier than I thought.
i love how rohmer shoots paris in this film. so many of his new wave peers shoot paris in a kind of artistic, impersonal way that seems more like set-dressing for their larger message, but rohmer paints paris as a functional city. people ride public transport, wander through expansive parks, duck into cafes, stroll around parked cars in the street. it's not filled with iconography that points to paris specifically—it just looks like other european cities i've wandered through, and though every place has its own charms, they're always connected through the mundane aspects of living in a metropolis that make them seem actually populated, not like distant landmarks. i feel so held by rohmer's 80s films, i love every one i've seen so much.
i'm honestly...all of them
even the aviator's wife
[97]
Hard to adequately transcribe the sheer force of Rohmer's romantic artifice into words; there's nothing bombast or gaudy about this, nothing that ostentatiously screams "masterpiece," but perhaps maybe that's why I find it so deserving. It's incredibly intimate and humble, and I can't say I've encountered an embodiment of human emotion and self-energized turmoil—pulled taught against the growing pains of misdirection and indecision—as masterfully realized as this. Even in its simplicity—there are only five main set pieces: the apartment, the bus, the park, the café, then back to the apartment—it manages to highlight the never ending complexity of an aimless mind, fueled by the effervescence of carefree, touch-and-go romanticism, a cataclysmic rhythm between insecurity and jealously, and the crushing…
A series of ordinary moments, infused with the vibrant pulse of human emotion, unfurls in the seamless grace of life itself. Doubts, desires, love, and all their accompanying uncertainties swirl through this Parisian air.
Paris, with its intrinsic charm and the steady rhythm of everyday life, becomes a mosaic where these emotions are artfully assembled. In the crowded cafés, the city's murmur is most palpable, it's a reflection of life's ceaseless flow, mirroring the relentless activity of these troubled relationships, each interaction is a tile in the intricate, ever-evolving picture of love and the quest for clarity. There's a stoic presence of nature; trees, standing as ancient witnesses, sway with the winds of anxiety, their leaves whispering tales of dissatisfaction…
A pool of desire unfulfilled drowns those who wander into its shallow depths with Éric Rohmer’s “The Aviator’s Wife.”
Rohmer’s return to modern romance following a brief dabbling in historic fictions at the end of the 70s, “Aviator’s” assures that the director has lost none of his talent for depicting irresolvable tristesse.
“Aviator’s” is a knot of relationships between young Parisians. A young man is in love with a woman slightly older, who is interested in a man even more aged, himself - married, but in love with yet someone else. The most consistent affection in the film is the melancholy each character seems to so intently afflict upon themselves.
If Rohmer’s “Six Moral Tales” series had its plots swung…
