THE STORY OF ADÈLE H. (1975)

The Channel Islands, lying south of Britain and north of France, possess the strange characteristic of seeming both European and English, whilst also feeling quite unlike either. English is the predominantly spoken language, with French in rapid decline. The natural beauty of the islands does not distinctly belong to either of its neighbours; being lost in thought on a walk through Guernsey might briefly make you wonder, when you become aware of your surroundings again, just exactly where you are.

The Nazis took four of the Channel Islands during World War II — the closest they came to invading mainland Britain. From this perspective, the Islands don’t feel very far away at all. Perhaps Guernsey felt remote for Victor Hugo, France’s towering novelist, politician, and thinker, who found himself in self-exile after fighting against the authoritarian and power-hungry Napoleon III.

Victor Hugo saw Napoleon III’s demagoguery for what it was —and after a coup in 1852 saw Napoleon installed as Emperor and dictator of the country, Hugo called him a traitor to the French people and left his homeland in protest. He landed in Jersey, before settling with his family in Guernsey.

His daughter, Adèle Hugo, might have shared her father’s sense of displacement and nomadism when she set out for Nova Scotia in 1863. In François Truffaut’s film, The Story of Adèle H / L’Histoire d’Adèle H., we follow the 20-year-old Adèle (Isabelle Adjani) as she arrives in the port city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, in pursuit of a long-lost love. She arrives by boat, alone, slipping past the British soldiers and into the anonymous night, where she might be anyone’s daughter — or nobody’s.

Her father is never pictured, but his shadow looms over almost everything. His voice, sonorous yet wounded, reads letters written to his daughter, in which he begs her to return home. Her voice answers in frantically scrawled letters and diary entries, much of which is written in a language, the narration tells us, that only she could understand. She writes asking for money transfers from her father, and relates stories of her pursuit as if it’s a noble and reciprocated quest.

The object of her obsession is Lieutenant Albert Pinson (Bruce Robinson), a handsome and esteemed British officer with whom Adèle had a relationship many years previously. Truffaut’s film, like Adèle’s letters, places us in the throes of fantasy and invention, wondering just how much of what Adèle claims is true.

Lt Pinson, cold and inscrutable, is turned into a man of romance and kindness in her letters home. He wants nothing to do with Adèle, but in her stories they have rekindled an ancient and precious flame, and are to be married. Between the Americas and the cold Atlantic, and on a spectrum somewhere between desire and disgust, Adèle searches.

Her self-imposed purgatory is filled with ghosts, but beyond them she sees a future in which she’s loved and secure, held by a noble man who will help her fight away her demons. It’s all a fiction, her monomania disregarding the true nature of the relationship to preserve her from further agony. Truffaut is not so concerned with the process of how Adèle reached this point —in fact, her past is obfuscated so thoroughly that the film plays almost like a mystery.

Rather, as in The 400 Blows (1959), Truffaut is interested in how a person behaves because of their past. Like Antoine, the child protagonist of The 400 Blows, Adèle’s behaviour can seem inexplicable, but Truffaut doesn’t scold. Rather, his characters remind us of people we’ve known, people who’ve suffered and struggled, and perhaps the opaqueness of the past —theirs and ours—mimics the conflicted relationship we each have with our own histories.

We hyperbolise stories and misremember details, purposefully or accidentally. We indulge, repress, question, and retain, lying awake some nights recalling words spoken to us long ago, warped into strange shapes by our fears and desires. Adèle becomes a grand tragic figure under Truffaut’s direction —we understand her even when her actions seem irrational, we recognise her pain even as she begins to unravel, like the increasingly battered dress she wears.

Isabelle Adjani, who at 20 was the youngest person to receive a ‘Best Actress’ nomination at the Academy Awards, is spellbinding as Adèle Hugo. She’s committed to Adèle much in the manner that Adèle is unwaveringly committed to Lt Pinson. She imbues her with icy resolve and inner strength, battered externally by the elements and her consuming obsession. It’s at once a very human and totally impenetrable performance.

At times, future echoes of her work in Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) can be sensed, as she falls under the spell of dark romantic fantasy. And her career-defining performance in the horror masterpiece Possession (1981) has clear roots here, too. Adjani’s intense gaze through eyes reddened with tears suggests a person looking far beyond the physical world and staring, rather, straight into the abyss of madness.

Adjani does not spare us — her performance is unblinking, a raw nerve exposed to the horror of onlookers. But her ethereal physicality and her pale beauty present her as a living ghost, forgotten by the years but returning, again and again, to interrupt those that’d rather forget her. We see her standing beside the crashing ocean, her persistence is as inevitable as the returning tide.

Truffaut’s vision of love here is supernaturally determined, and threatens to obliterate all in its path. It’s all-encompassing and unconditional, able to build and destroy with the force of a tidal wave. It isn’t about right or wrong, rational or irrational, sane or mad. It’s about the gargantuan force that love contains, and the resolve we receive from it. It can push us to our highest points and sink us entirely.

It can also be a curse. While looking through family photographs and drawings, Adèle tells her boarding house landlady, Mrs Saunders (Sylvia Marriott), the story of her older sister, Léopoldine.

Léopoldine and her husband had spent the day sailing on the Seine river, before the boat overturned. Weighed down by her heavy dress, Léopoldine drowned. Her husband, Charles Vacquerie, attempted to save her, but drowned, too. Léopoldine was 19-years-old and pregnant. Mrs Saunders mistakes the image of Léopoldine for Adèle, so alike do they look.

And each night, Adèle sweats and thrashes in her bed as she dreams of drowning. Her sister’s life, cut down while it was still blossoming, is like the death of any loved one. The grieving must find a way to keep the dead intact, but what is the cost to an individual who lives on behalf of the dead?

Truffaut strikes a tone that refuses to insist on any one reading. His film is both practically minded and romantically expressive; it’s factual and fanciful — a work of quasi-historical-fiction that is unsparing and loving in the same breath. Truffaut seems to love Adèle — not for her beauty, but for the uncompromising vision she has of what love is.

Like Victor and Adèle Hugo, Truffaut is caught between the bitter cold of reality and the dreams of home, where love and safety once existed. They are refugees for whom each port is unfamiliar, and new wilds will be braved in the name of total dedication.

FRANCE | 1975 | 96 MINUTES | 1.66:1 | COLOUR | FRENCH • ENGLISH

Limited Edition Blu-ray Special Features:

• High-Definition digital transfer. The image is crisp and clear, and there’s a rich warmth, particularly to the film’s indoor scenes. Deep browns and reds contrast with blue oceans and pure white snow throughout, foregrounding the understated and beautiful cinematography by Nestor Almendros.
• Uncompressed mono PCM audio. The Story of Adèle H is a rather quiet film, with an unobtrusive score and not a lot of audio dynamics. That is the intention, and the steady, polished soundtrack honours that decision nicely.
• Interview with François Truffaut (1975). Typically illuminating interview with Truffaut, for whom this film was a passion project after two years away from directing. A very interesting insight into what drew him to the subject.
• Interview with Isabelle Adjani (1980). Another interesting addition, though it’s a shame there isn’t a contemporary interview with Adjani included.
• Footage of the premiere in Lyon with Truffaut and Isabelle Adjani (1975) . An interesting little time capsule. Nothing essential, but fun.
• Interview with cinematographer Nestor Almendros (1986) . One of the great cinematographers talks about his work on the film and with Truffaut. Fascinating insights into how they developed the look of the film together.
• NEW Interview with critic Phuong Le (2024). The only contemporary feature on the disc, but it features keen insights into the film, and helps to contextualise how the film was received at the time.
• Trailer.
• Optional English subtitles.
• Reversible sleeve featuring designs based on original posters.
• Limited edition booklet featuring archival writing.

Cast & Crew

director: François Truffaut.
writers: François Truffaut, Jean Gruault & Suzanne Schiffman (in collaboration with Frances Verne Guille; English translation by Jan Dawson; based on ‘Le Journal d’Adèle Hugo’ by Adèle Hugo).
starring: Isabelle Adjani, Bruce Robinson, Sylvia Marriott, Joseph Blatchley & Ivry Gitlis.