Patrice Leconte proves that not all directors leave a noticeable signature on their films. I’ve seen lots of his work over the years – Ridicule, The Widow of St. Pierre, Man on the Train, The Girl on the Bridge and Intimate Strangers – and there is nothing, visually or storywise, that connects them in any way I can tell. (The Girl on the Bridge remains one of the best films of the 1990s.)
The Hairdresser’s Husband was quite a critical success for him – although only 17 critics have rated it it has 100% on Rotten Tomatoes – and I’m surprised it isn’t more divisive. It is, if you allow it to be, a beautiful film, but it is also ridiculous, if not also a little childish.
Basically: kid gets first hard-on while getting shampooed and declares he wants to marry a hairdresser. Cut to half a lifetime later, he sees a beautiful hairdresser and proposes marriage. Before she knows his name, she agrees. Much soapy sex follows. Then the woman decides she’s so happy she should kill herself, lest she ever become unhappy.
The Hairdresser’s Husband feels like a short story more than a feature film. A short story by, let’s face it, a bad writer. Still, the individual moments (I hesitate to call them scenes – everything in this 82 minute film is tiny) are well-played.
