It's Raining Men

It’s a common enough problem. Iris (Laure Calamy) loves her husband Stéphane (Vincent Elbaz), but their sex life has completely fizzled out. She has a good life, with a successful career as a dentist, a comfortable home and two daughters who are doing well, but she’s increasingly troubled by the sense that something is missing. One day, when visiting her osteopath, she meets a woman who tells her that having an affair changed everything for her, and tells her about the app that made it easy. It’s an odd little conversation which initially doesn’t seem important, but the idea grows on her, and when she decides to take the plunge, a whole new world opens up to her.

To those of us of a certain age in long term, settled relationships, the dramatic changes that have taken place in the dating landscape over the past 20 years present an unfamiliar landscape. What used to take effort – at least to the extent of going out socialising an hoping to spot somebody appealing who was also interested – can now be done from anywhere with just a few clicks and swipes, and Iris is dazzled by how quickly a suite of possible lovers becomes available to her. It takes a while for her to find her footing, but a first successful encounter leaves her glowing, and director Caroline Vignal employs surrealist techniques to reveal the way it changes her perspective on everything around her.

Ought she to be this free-sprited? Should we not expect her to be worried about her marriage? She’s clear from the outset that she doesn’t want to lose it, and sets clear ground rules for her series of one night stands. French culture has always been more accepting of the complexities of human attraction than, say, the UK or US, and is less uptight about transgression, but still, Iris cannot get away with whatever she wants. The trick that Vignal pulls off is to have her so emotionally overwhelmed early on that she doesn’t notice the growing distance developing at home – yet it’s in how things develop once she does that the co-writer/director really shows her skill. Even if the result is not ultimately very surprising, it’s well handled, with a mature understanding and a depth of commitment to character.

Along the way, Iris encounters other hurdles, from difficulty focusing at work – where she and her assistant Nuria (Suzanne De Baecque) engage in some delightfully OTT eye-based communication over the top of their masks – to a clash with one of her daughters which reflects on the more cautious approach to sex and sexuality of the younger generation. It’s not just the sex itself that complicates Iris’ life, but also her growing addiction to her phone, where she finds a constant ego-boosting stream of flattering comments. Indeed, it’s flirtation that she seems to have missed most, together the experience of feeling desirable.

Desirability is approached here with a wonderful lack of shame. It’s okay to feel it and it’s okay to accept the reality of middle-aged bodies. A musical number halfway through involves a French-language version of It’s Raining Men which celebrates a wider range of bodies than the original, as well as reflecting more on personality. Iris may initially select her lovers based on looks, but her successful encounters are about more than that, with each one a character-focused vignette. When they don’t work out, they still provide learning experiences, and they’re never unfriendly. There is a nicely observed awkwardness about those that do, especially early on, as she figures out what she wants and makes allowances for her lovers, as they do for her.

The result is a refreshingly sex-positive, body-positive film which manages to remain upbeat without letting anybody off the hook. The sex is not particularly explicit, and what is really at stake, of course, is Iris’ sense of her place in the world and her emotional landscape. Whether or not you’re minded to try that sort of thing yourself, It’s Raining Men will leave you smiling.