‘Milo’ Review: Marion Cotillard Carries a Somber, Classically Made French Drama with Hints of Film Noir

Since the late 1960s, Nicole Garcia has carved out an intriguing niche for herself in French cinema. She started out as a promising young actress in films by Bertrand Tavernier, Jacques Rivette, Claude Sautet and Alain Resnais, most notably starring alongside Gérard Depardieu in Resnais’ masterful My American Uncle. Then in the early ‘90s she made the move behind the camera, building up a solid filmography over the past three decades with a predilection for dark dramas (The Adversary), romantic thrillers (A View of Love, Lovers) and crime stories (Place Vendôme, The Favorite Son). Not all of Garcia’s directorial efforts are equal, but they’re all marked by arresting performances and an intense, often downbeat vibe, making her something of a commercial counterpart (at least in France) to fellow female auteurs like Claire Denis and Catherine Breillat.

At age 80, Garcia delivers another strong if rather classically helmed drama with Milo (7h40 ce matin-là), starring Marion Cotillard as an ex-con attempting to reconnect with her long-lost son (played by rising talent Théodore Pellerin, Lurker) 20 years after being forced to abandon him. There’s nothing altogether new about this slow-burn, twisting scenario, which oscillates between family secrets and small-town film noir, but the movie still has a lot going for it: most notably a raw turn from Cotillard that ranks among her best recent work, shedding the glamour of her Chanel ads for something akin to what she pulled off in the Dardenne brothers’ Two Days, One Night.

The struggling working-class character in that movie comes to mind when we first meet 40-something Alice (Cotillard), who arrives by bus in Romans-sur-Isère, a tough and not exactly picturesque rural enclave in southeastern France. Desperate for a job and a place to stay, Alice gets hired as a waitress at a local eatery that resembles a French Applebee’s, except it looks much more depressing, while holing up in a gloomy, barely-furnished apartment in the local housing projects.

It’s obvious from the start that Alice has an alternative agenda — the map she keeps tucked away in her bag gives this away — and her plans become increasingly clear when we see her spying on Milo (Pellerin), a 20-year-old auto mechanic and frequent client of the restaurant where she works.

Hopping between their two points of view, the script takes its time to tease out key pieces of information, which we begin to assemble as Alice spends more time around Milo without revealing her true identity. Soon enough, the latter’s mother (Laure Calamy) not only recognizes Alice as the actual birth mom of her adopted son, but also a former left-wing agitator who pulled off an attack on a bank in the 1990s that resulted in the death of a cop.

This is heavy stuff, and Garcia never tries to suggest otherwise. But she grounds the heaviness in performances that feel lived-in and psychologically effective, even when the story veers toward film noir territory in a whole subplot involving drug dealers and a clan of rich landowners who have become a surrogate family for Milo. In one telling scene, Alice gets hired as a waitress for a party taking place at their swanky chateau, doing her best to play the perfect servant until she decides to sit down in the kitchen, pop open a bottle of priceless wine and pour herself a glass in front of the shocked staff.

Cotillard plays that moment with a mix of weariness and a typically French je ne sais quoi shrug, revealing a character who spent the first part of her life taking on the man as a student revolutionary, then the second half paying a hefty price for it. Despite that context Milo never gets very political, and except for one telling scene in which Alice visits a fellow activist (Anne Brochet) dying of cancer, the backstory involving her leftist antics is painted in rather broadly. But the film convincingly demonstrates how the baggage accumulated during your youth can wind up weighing you down for the rest of your life, which explains why Alice does everything she can to prevent Milo from making some of the same mistakes.

Quebecois actor Pellerin, whose breakout performance in last year’s Cannes discovery Nino earned him a César award, is memorable as a hardworking kid who gradually becomes aware of his lowly social status and the cruelties of the wider world. There’s a desperation in his eyes that even the movie’s more questionable third act surprises can’t shake, showing how he truly is his mother’s son despite the decades they spent apart.

A Hollywood version of their story would no doubt end with the two being happily united, but this is France, and this is Nicole Garcia, and so Milo satisfyingly concludes on a dark if not entirely despondent note, allowing Alice to leave a mark on her son’s life without ever quite becoming a part of it.