52 Films by Women Vol 10. 34. LOVE ME TENDER (Director: Anna Cazenave Cambet)

 

Pictured: Paul (Viggo Ferreira-Redler, centre) shows his unhappiness towards his mother, Clémence (Vicky Krieps, left) in a scene from writer-director Anna Cazenave Cambet's film, 'Love Me Tender', based on Constance Debré's 2020 novel. Still courtesy of Tandem (France) / Peccadillo Pictures (UK)

After two viewings, I still don’t know what to make of Love Me Tender, writer-director Anna Cazenave Cambet’s adaptation of Constance Debré’s 2020 semi-autobiographical novel, featuring Vicky Krieps in the lead role as Clémence, a lawyer turned novelist who reveals her lesbian identity to her ex-husband, Laurent (Antoine Reinartz) and finds herself separated from her eight-year-old son, Paul (Viggo Ferreira-Redler) as a result. It is a film that respects Debré’s first person narration; there is no attempt to understand or justify Laurent’s response, psychologically or socially. This is a film that explores Clémence’s victimhood and how it impacts her relationship with others. It ends with a form of relief, which is both an acceptance of defeat and liberation from disappointment. You wonder if such liberation, as it pertains to the primal relationship between a mother and her (male) child, is a construct, a fiction. Or whether it is the same feeling that a mother forced to abandon a child after giving birth experiences, coming to terms with their decision. In Clémence’s case, it is the choice to no longer care. ‘A child grows up so quickly,’ she is told by a child protection professional. Clémence doesn’t frame her battle for two people, as an attempt to rescue Paul from her ex-husband’s toxic homophobia. She is only concerned with her rights as a mother.

Cazenave Cambet and Krieps undoubtedly honour Debré in their film, down to Krieps shaving her head to resemble Debré as she is today. The Jeanne D’Arc martyr cut – or number one as my barber might tell me – is an expression of Clémence’s liberation. She no longer wishes to be judged as a member of the herd, an adherer to convention. She marks herself as an affiliate to those who have endured cancer, that is, the loss of part of the body. This does not diminish her vitality, signified by the film’s publicity image of shaven headed Clémence wearing a woollen cap speeding on her bicycle with her son clinging to her waist on the back seat. However, it comes with a price - solitude, separation from a journalist, Sarah (Monia Chokri) who tried to love her.

Films about female sexuality typically feature water. Love Me Tender is no exception, opening with Clémence, a keen swimmer, shown ploughing through water. Clémence’s prowess is acknowledged as she returns to the changing rooms, high-fived by other patrons. The pool is where she attracts other women, one of whom is shown joining her in a cubicle for sex. Clémence resists other liquids – she does not join friends at a bar – and for good reason. She is not financially well-off, having given up a career as a lawyer, just like Debré herself.

A word on the name of Debré’s avatar. Clémence suggests a woman who seeks to avoid harsh punishment. Yet that is what she receives. Constance may not have sought constancy in her relationships with lovers, but she sought to provide her son with a constant source of love.

After a lively introduction to Paul, first shown on Clémence’s phone, declaring himself to be the child of ‘Darth Vader and Cleopatra’ (cute and culturally diverse), we experience the shock of his rejection when Clémence comes to Laurent’s apartment to collect him. Paul refuses to leave his bed. Clémence does her best to engage with him, putting a call out for his trip to the moon, but Paul does not respond. Laurent demonstrates his disgust through his son, punishing his ex-wife. It is a particularly cowardly form of passive aggression, but worse, off screen he teaches Paul to have no respect for his mother. Clémence engages with child protection services. After 18 months of not seeing her son, she is finally allowed a supervised session in front of two women who assess her behaviour.

There is a telling scene in the child protection waiting area in which Clémence meets the mother of four children, whose ex is enjoying a supervised visit. ‘You’re new here, I can tell,’ she tells Clémence, ‘you still have hope in your eyes.’ The mother explains that her ex’s access will be short-lived. By Christmas, he will be back in prison. Clémence is cast in the same role as a recidivist, someone whose behaviour won’t change. It’s a damning conclusion.

Clémence’s first supervised meeting goes well. She gives Paul a compass on a key ring. Her apartment and Laurent’s are in opposite directions – as clear an illustration of the gulf between them. During another session, Paul reveals that his father gave him a phone. However, he has been told not to give out his number. The exercise of coercive control is obvious, but the two women are tasked to assess Clémence rather than Laurent. We ask ourselves whether Parisian child protection services are fit for purpose.

Clémence moves in with a male friend, Léo (Julien de Saint Jean) who is tickled by sharing with a gay woman, wondering for example, whether they’ll have threesomes; the issue is raised in such a jaunty manner that he doesn’t seem like a creep. Clémence is asked to pay for groceries and utilities. It’s a good deal. At a party, Clémence does not socialise with her flatmate’s friends. She hides in her room. She does however date. At a book signing, she asks a woman (Park Ji-min) what she would like written in her book. ‘Whatever you want,’ the woman writes. Clémence writes her cell phone number. She separates her love life from parenting to the extent that, in a much later scene, she doesn’t allow Sarah to see Paul, pushing the other woman against a wall to make her point. ‘No one talks to me like that,’ Sarah tells her.

Clémence relieves the heartache of custody issues by visiting her father (Féodor Atkine) who lives in an outhouse next to a larger property. We get the sense that he used to own the larger property but sold it after his wife died; Clémence appears to be an only child. She is unsuccessful in trying to get him to ‘take a walk around the gardens’. Eventually, after one aborted attempt, Clémence brings Paul with her to visit him. The three watch The Incredible Shrinking Man on television, a film that offers a metaphor for man’s diminishing influence over his environment; it is also the subject of a recent French remake starring Jean Dujardin. This is one of the happier scenes, though male paranoia is exactly the source of Clémence’s woes.

Pictured: Laurent (Antoine Reinartz, left) shares an uncharacteristically cordial moment with his ex, Clémence (Vicky Krieps, right) in a scene from 'Love Me Tender', writer-director Anna Cazenave Cambet's adaptation of Constance Debré's 2020 novel. Still courtesy of Tandem (France) / Peccadillo Pictures (UK)

The film has more harsh scenes than tender ones, notably when Paul rejects the 50 Euro green jacket that Clémence bought for him and that the child noted ‘makes him look like her’ before storming out of the room. He is fed up of the situation. There is one moment we experience Laurent’s point of view, as he watches Clémence and Paul joyously running for a train having dropped the child off. We feel his anger, even though we don’t share it. Laurent weaponizes his caring responsibilities, citing the cost of school fees. When Clémence touches Laurent’s back, he accuses her of being physically aggressive towards him. In the most heartbreaking scene, Clémence arrives at Laurent’s apartment to collect Paul. Two other men are present – one is Laurent’s lawyer – to bear witness that he does not physically prevent Paul from leaving with his mother. He is not violating Clémence’s custody rights, though of course, the psychological seeds have been sown.

The most tender episodes involve Sarah. They meet in a restaurant where Clémence is dining with friends; Sarah is enjoying a glass of red wine on her own. Clémence moves to her table. Sarah tells her that she is very good at guessing people’s profession but has three unsuccessful attempts with Clémence. For her part, Clémence immediately deduces that Sarah is a journalist. She moves in with her, leaving a shirt for Léo ‘because he loved it so much’. ‘Just so you know, I’m into monogamy,’ Sarah warns her. Clémence respects this. The two women visit Clémence’s father, taking a swim in a nearby lake. The old man is non-plussed. However, the relationship breaks down after Clémence refuses to ‘share’ Paul. Clémence then decides to shave off her hair.

Towards the end, Clémence files her eighth report of Laurent denying her access rights. The desk clerk tells her that the report will make little difference. Time spent with her son is finite, not enough to go bowling or watch a film, but just enough to purchase another ice cream. One wonders whether Debré wrote the novel to explain to her son why she finally gave up, if indeed the source material reflects reality. Perhaps it is unfair of her to make him feel guilty. The film would only increase their distance; their separation is a private matter. Mixed emotions about whether auto fiction is always a good idea drove me to feel ambivalent about Love Me Tender, the song after which it is named is heard in instrumental form plaintively over the end credits.

Reviewed at Gate Notting Hill, West London, Friday 7 August 2026, 15:40 screening. Also Ciné Lumière, South Kensington, West London, Friday 14 November 2025, 20:30 screening