“Couture” (2025) is a triptych French film that focuses on three women at different stages in their life converging for a fashion show at a major house during Paris’ Fashion Week. Maxine Walker (Angelina Jolie) is a filmmaker who finally makes it only to be interrupted with bad news that could end more than her career. Ada (Anyier Anei) decides to leave her home, family and a safe career to explore becoming a model only to discover that the entire show rests on her. Makeup artist Angèle (Ella Rumpf) loves her job and the people that she works with, but she has other ambitions, which an instructor dashes. For people unfamiliar with French films, the narrative structure may prove challenging and the acting quality in each section is uneven, but it is life-affirming without being saccharine or offering pat happy endings.
If you are familiar with Jolie’s life, you will wonder if writer and director Alice Winocour found a place in the multiverse where a person who looks just like her went through a similar plight. Jolie’s acting is so authentic and grounded, and the story feels ripped from the headlines that it makes the other sections pale in comparison and will make moviegoers wish that the entire movie kept Jolie in the spotlight. If the French excel at depicting one theme, it is confronting death without the American extreme of either shouting really dramatically or laughing hysterically. Let’s face the fact that most Americans have the emotional nuance of a toddler and is as afraid of death or any uncomfortable feeling that they pretend that it is only something that happens to bad people. “Couture” provides a refreshing outlook.
Jolie takes Maxine through all the stages of grief without ever falling into cliché. Her face projects her thoughts, and the line delivery echoes her shock. She is just distracted and alone even in crowds, but there is the solidarity of circumstance whether it is with Dr. Laurent Hansen (Vincent Lindon, “Rodin,” “Titane”) with his rolled up, unbuttoned to the chest oxford shirt and short sleeve lab coat, Anne (Aurore Clément), a fellow patient who shares a brief moment of resolve and shock, or Anton (Louis Garrel), who sullenly works for her but sets aside his grievance sensing something is wrong. Besides her health, she always interrupts her work to talk with her fifteen-year-old daughter, Eden (Moira Hughes), on the phone.
Angèle’s section is also relatable. It is as if she is an astronaut visiting an alien planet with glamazons towering impossibly over her as if she was in an ultra-chic version of “The Lord of the Rings” with the extreme contrast in size. She gets introduced after Ada’s arrival at the fashion house, which was shot in Chanel’s atelier and showroom with all the logos removed. Angèle is a friendly respite from all the other experts deluging Ada with information and exchanging silent notes of concern over the new model’s ability to catch on. In contrast, Angèle is like an oasis in the desert, protects and reassures the stranger in a strange land and career. There is also an implicit nod to fashion houses wanting African models but not understanding what they need to look their best such as applying the right makeup. Angèle is the opposite and is a Jesus-like figure unafraid to heal her models and hold their feet (apply makeup, but in the fashion world, just like washing them). She is busy, overwork, underpaid, but determined to create.
It feels as if Winocour related most to Angèle’s desire to be an artist and trying to choose between the male and female model. Her coach (Pascal Rénéric) is exactly what you would expect: curt, discouraging, smug and focused on how he can benefit from her desire and lack of discernment in choosing a writing coach. Most movie goers who discover that they are not fans of Winocour’s writing style will probably relate to his criticism because it could apply to “Couture,” but I mostly disagree if the assessment is ever applied to the script. Instead, she watches a YouTube clip of a real life archived televised interview with Marguerite Duras for free, and it gives her the exact instruction that she needs to move forward, which in turn, gives her the right words to encourage Maxine to embrace her daughter in this challenging time.
Ada’s story is probably the weakest one, but the most relatable. It is the equivalent of being the one who has a different experience from the rest of your family when you go away to college except instead of college, it is becoming a world-famous model. She still gets calls from her Mama and brother alternating with words of encouragement and begging her to come home. Ada is not sure about what she should do. It is a huge culture clash. If you watched “America’s Next Top Model” expect a less polished, less nightmarish or structured section. Her fellow models are barely individuated except for the harshest one, who is from the Ukraine, has more money and experience, but is lower in the hierarchy as a fit model who is like a living mannequin. They find common ground as exiles from their hometown because of war. The rest of the model antics are expected, but the acting is stilted, awkward and wooden when the dialogue is in English. Their acting style may continue to suffer in other languages, but if you are an English speaker, you would not know it.
Visually the themes are poignant but if some complain that it is heavy-handed, it would not be unfair. Christine (Garance Marillier) works on Ada’s dress for the opening. The mannequin torso has bright lines on it, which echo the marker that the doctor uses to prepare Maxine for her scan. While Ada practices her runway walk in the hall of her overcrowded, but cavernous apartment, Maxine does it without effort or thought as she follows it to her next appointment in the hospital. While window shopping, one bikini top only features half a cup and echoes the aforementioned lines. The wigs in the window and backstage of the fashion show now become harbingers of loss as Maxine is facing the prospect of losing her hair and considering whether she will use a replacement. Paris as the city of lights and screams of liberation works well, but the horror theme did not resonate along the same lines.
If you are looking for a film that passes the Bechdel test with flying colors, look no further than “Couture.” Only a French film would encourage women to stop being practical and become artists and party more. Trust the French to deliver a moral of work less and prioritize your health. The American woman side of me bristled because we need more women directors and why does one of the minority groups in a male dominated field need that lesson. A hit dog hollers. Oops. Read me to filth! Lesson learned.
