When Autumn Falls (2025)

When I told my imaginary 1940s screen writer that I was going to take her to see a French film, she put on a beret and said,

“Oh-la-la. European, how exotic!”

I reminded her that I am also European.

“Oh, yes,” she drawled, “but you’re the stuffy English kind of European.”

So, I also reminded her that it was 2025 and the we don’t deal in those lazy national stereotypes anymore. All said, while privately thinking myself pretty sophisticated to be going to the cinema to watch a subtitled arthouse film.

When Autumn Falls, or to give it’s French title, Quand vient l'automne and released as When Fall is Coming in the US, is the latest film from French ‘auteur’ Francois Ozon. Auteur theory suggests that the most artistically successful films carry the personal cinematic stamp of the director. Not all directors are auteurs. According to the snobbery of this theory, some are merely crafters, while other are artists. Ozon has been declared an auteur as he is a critically acclaimed and heavily awarded writer and director. I must admit, I haven’t seen any of his films prior to this one.

And on the basis of this film, I wouldn’t rush to see another.

The film opens with a Catholic priest sermonising on Mary Magdalene – who was a female follower of Jesus, first to find the empty tomb and often mythologised as a prostitute. My catholic upbringing meant I understood this allusion. An older woman is entranced, perhaps disquieted by this eulogy on the power of forgiveness. Her older, sweet face hints at a past. So, I thought given the title of the film and this opening scene I was going to watch a film about regret. Interesting, I thought and I settled in.

The plot is centred on Michelle (Helene Vincent), an older woman excited to see her grandson and daughter for the summer holidays. We know that the relationship between mother and daughter is difficult from the tense telephone exchange.

And then it goes horribly wrong, when the mushrooms Michelle foraged earlier with her best friend Marie-Claude (Josiane Balasko) poison her daughter. Was this an accident? An over-sight of tiredness and old-age? Or was there a subconscious desire to cause harm? Or was it premediated? Another interesting premise.

The result is that having narrowly missed losing her life, the daughter refuses to allow her mother time with her grandson. So, is this a film about loneliness?

But no, Marie-Claude’s son returns from prison and provides company against the isolation. We do not know why he was in prison. Later, we also do not know if he was involved in a death, or if it was an accident. The film poses these questions, but does not answer any of them.

In fact, the film drifts so often in its story-telling that it becomes difficult to care. It is as if it cannot decide what it is about – the very opposite of ‘auteur-ship’.

It even has a ghost. Is the ghost real, or a symptom of depression and loneliness, or the haunting of a guilty conscience? No, no answers. Just a clumsy couple of paranormal scenes dropped into the middle of a naturalistic drama.

The result of all of this is the mushiness of autumn leaves after a heavy rainfall. Still looking picturesque, but difficult to walk through.

Having set us up with a woman with difficult past, and an inability to provide maternal support, the ending becomes slushy and sentimental. As if old age can only make us soft, rather than fragile or brittle.

This film was definitely not for me. (Although I did enjoy the glass of red wine I had before it, to make myself feel properly French). But at least I left the cinema feeling sophisticated enough to be able to analyse it. I nudged my imaginary 1940s screen writer persona. She had fallen asleep.

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