52 Films by Women Vol 9. 7. Partir un jour (Leave One Day) (Director: Amélie Bonnin)

Pictured: Raphael (Bastien Bouillon) invites conflicted chef Cécile (Juliette Armanet) to applaud his motocross skills in the contemporary French musical, 'Partir Un Jour', written with Dimitri Lucas and directed by Amélie Bonnin. Still courtesy of Pathé.

Partir un jour (Leave One Day), the opening film of the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, co-written (with Dimitri Lucas) and directed by Amélie Bonnin, represents the opposite of glamour. ‘Top Chef’ winner turned restauranteur Cécile Béguin (Juliette Armanet) returns to L’Escale, the truck stop café in rural France where her parents work after her father, Gérard (François Rollin) has his third heart attack. Cécile wants him to retire, as does her mother Fanfan (Dominique Blanc), who has been taking Italian lessons and sitting in the front seat of a mobile home (clearly, she wants to go somewhere). However, for Gérard, the café is a source of pride. Steak and frites dominate the menu, but the customers are hard working and keep the place busy and honest. Gérard instilled in Cécile a love of cooking and doesn’t much care for the comments that she made on the show, including a crack about the fortuitous nature of a truck stop restaurant (‘you want to get away quickly’). Indeed, Gérard took notes; at least one he memorised by heart.

Though the film may be dominated by natural lighting, it is a musical, utilising popular songs performed by the cast. The titles, with white lettering turning red, as with a karaoke reader, cue you to this. Happily, the film moves in and out of music – not every word is sung – so the characters can breathe. Songs typically italicise emotions so that they metamorphose into something grander that the audience can relate to. They can be monologues with rhyming couplets, duologues with call and response or anthems describing a so-called universal truth, or, if you prefer, hive mentality. In my neighbourhood, that means putting recycling loosely on top of the bin instead of inside it, guaranteeing that it will not be collected (refuse collectors only handle bins).

Her father is not Cécile’s only problem. She is pregnant by her lover-partner Sofiane (Tewfik Jallab). Cécile and Sofiane had an agreement: no kids. Faced with the red parallel lines of a pregnancy test, Cécile has no intention of keeping the child or of telling anyone. However, parents can sense things.

The songs begin with Cécile’s discovery – red lines, red colouring over the film titles; we see what Bonnin did. A phone conversation with her parents summons her back to the truck stop, much to the chagrin of Sofiane. They have an opening in ten days. Cécile has a deadline to affect domestic change.

She also has to deal with Raphael (Bastien Bouillon), the one who got away. Or maybe she got away from him, I don’t know, Cécile doesn’t cook fish. He is still around, dark hair dyed blond, beard wolfishly intact, hanging out with his two buddies who recall Cécile’s performance on the show – the dishes she cooked, rather the comments she made. Cécile remembers Raphael’s adoration of Jennifer, who commanded his attention. As she knows, not every refrigerator promises access to ingredients, in this case, forty-five-year-old aged steak. Raphael may be younger, I don’t care.

Pictured: Fanfan (Dominque Blanc) dreams of travel. Her daughter Cécile (Juliette Armanet) is sympathetic. A scene from the French musical, 'Partir Un Jour', co-written and directed by Amélie Bonnin. Still courtesy of Pathé. 

Longing is an integral part of the musical form. People always want something they have been denied: love, equality, a fair tax assessment. A whisk and a wooden spoon not so much. At one point, Cécile slides on her shins in the kitchen, implements in hand. You fear for her bones. Cécile is no ingenue. She has been around the block so many times, she forgot she was looking for a parking space.

You could be forgiven for imagining that like other musicals, Partir un jour is filled with humour. Not so. The visual aesthetic brings us ‘sur terre’. What it overflows with is alcohol. Aperol Spritz, beer, shots. There’s a homily about empty glasses, but this crowd need no encouragement. One curiosity is Cécile’s reliance on lifts from truck drivers. ‘Anyone going to Paris?’ she asks after things get too much. ‘No, desolée. Sit down and have a drink.’ Before she knows it, Cécile’s inebriated state is all over social media – more smashed than hashtag. Cécile isn’t even thinking about the baby because, well, you know.

The ghost of Damien Chazelle’s 2016 musical hangs over the film, though being French this is more ‘Blah blah land’. At one point, one of Raphael’s friends brings out a keytar (keyboard guitar), a la Ryan Gosling; you half-expect a parody of a-ha - ‘Shame on you’. In Chazelle’s film, it is the guy who is torn between love and ‘chicken on a stick’. Here, Cécile tries to maintain order in the kitchen. She hires a helper with her money to relieve her father of his duties, though he will have none of it, returning to his notebook of recalled offences. ‘My own daughter ashamed of me,’ he summarises. There isn’t a song for that as it would empty the dance floor.

Sofiane’s sudden appearance brings matters to a head. He and Raphael square up to the tune of ‘Oh What a Night’. It’s a rap that segues into the chorus that turns into a punch. This is the film’s only gasp making moment. Why does Raphael flirt with the pregnant Cécile, especially as he has a wife – a midwife, in fact – and child?

That’s right. Raphael asks Cécile to be his cheerleader as he rides his motocross bike, which is what the countryside is good for besides growing potatoes, see the films La Pampa and Vingt Dieux. At the track, she meets his wife, who starts singing, and child, who is not interested in a drink even as Nathalie (Amandine Dewasmes) buys two beers. Nathalie was the plain girl who admired Cécile (she sings). She has made a life with modest expectations. There is a lovely moment at the end of the film when Raphael picks up his son to move him out of the way of the goal so that Nathalie can score. That is as poignant a representation of domestic bliss that you could hope to see.

Cécile cannot cope with Sofiane’s sudden appearance. You wonder briefly whether she doesn’t want his child because the baby might be darker skinned. At any rate, Sofiane is sent away; Cécile works through her dilemma with a nostalgic trip to the ice rink, recalling Raphael being late (16:12 is somehow important).

There is a dramatic event that sobers Cécile. She needs help. Raphael knows what to do. In the film’s closing moments, some feelings are clarified, others are not. Bonnin doesn’t deliver a song and dance finish, though there is a truck, a motorcycle and a turn to the right (literal, not metaphorical).

Partir un jour opened at number two at the French box office with 222,472 admissions, dropping to number five the following week (source: Allociné). It flirts with the familiar genre, ‘Father knows best’ as it negotiates a woman’s right to choose. As for its contribution to films about food, it doesn’t leave the audience feeling hungry. It doesn’t have an emotional high points either. You watch. You recognise a tune. You comment, ‘bon’.

Reviewed at Palace Cinema, Brussels, Screen One, Saturday 24 May 2025, 16:45 screening (French language, English subtitles)