Lie With Me

It’s often said that fiction is a species of lying aimed at revealing greater truths, and that notion lies at the heart of Olivier Peyon’s latest drama, which screened as part of 2023’s BFI Flare. Adapted from the book by Philippe Besson, it follows a middle aged author returning to his hometown and getting to know the son of his long lost love, whilst both of them try to unravel the mysteries of a man who kept both of them at a distance.

The author is Stéphane (Guillaume de Tonquédec), a man who has lived a full life yet has never fully been able to get over his first love affair, persistently naming characters after Thomas (Julien De Saint Jean) though he hasn’t seen him since they were both 17. He travels home after being invited to speak at a distillery there, the sort of event with which writers punctuate their schedules because despite the myths, it’s tough to make much of a living from books. His slightly uncomfortable arrival (the host displays the kind of unthinking homophobia common in small towns, though he genuinely seems to be trying) turns into something more painful when he learns that Thomas has died, and although he is at first delighted to meet his son, Lucas (Victor Belmondo), he gradually becomes suspicious about the young man’s reasons for being there.

As we watch their interactions unfold in the present day, we flash back to the past to see something of that pivotal love affair directly. This is a common structural choice but it’s artfully handled, the two storylines flowing together despite distinct differences in tone. Whilst the older Stéphane strives to approach life with an air of calm sophistication, his teenage self (Jérémy Gillet ) is shy and unsure of himself, overwhelmed at being singled out for attention by a boy who hangs out with the popular kids. At first it’s purely sexual attention, but something else soon develops between them – and that’s where things get complicated.

The affair is conditional. Thomas doesn’t want anybody to know about it, taking pains to prevent them being seen so much as speaking together in public. He’s also attracted to girls, has a girlfriend and is desperately concerned with passing as straight. because he’s the only son of a farming family he doesn’t see a future for himself outside their small town, and fears the way he might be treated if the truth got out. Although Stéphane takes all this in his stride and does his best to make things work, it the sets the two of them up for very different life courses. Stéphane imagines different versions of Thomas in his books. Thomas collects them all, and watches him on television, but will never tell his family why.

“Nobody captures romantic ruins better than you,” Stéphane is told, but despite the powerful allure of the romance in the film there is a lot more going on. An equal amount of attention is paid to the importance of identity. There’s an interesting spin on frequent narratives comparing gay and bisexual men, with hints that Thomas is envious of Stéphane because his very inability to form a romantic connection with a woman compels him to seek a freedom and openness which Thomas dare not choose. Lucas tells us early on that his parents’ marriage was a failure, but it’s unclear if this resulted from a faltering attraction or simply from the fact that it was founded on lies, and that Thomas was slowly poisoned by self-hatred.

Whilst the English title works well enough, the French one - Arrête Avec Tes Mensonges (roughly ‘stop with your lies’) strikes a slightly different note. It comes from something which Stéphane remembers his mother saying to him, not in regard to any sexual secrets but, rather, in an attempt to dissuade him from inventing stories. Although the community is proud of him now that he’s a success, it wasn’t the sort of place where a writer could develop; homophobia and anti-intellectualism often go hand in hand. Only one sort of sophistication is really prized here, and that’s the sort which relates to cognac – a little awkward for our teetotal protagonist. Viewers who indulge, however, will find the magic of the distillery handsomely captured. Cinematographer Martin Rit infuses them with the rich golden glow of the brandy itself.

Elsewhere, the film is full of natural beauty. The stained waters of the lake where Stéphane and Thomas got away from it all are alluringly blue – albeit poisonous in quantity. Clémence Ney’s production design immerses us in the character of the small town and its surroundings, with particular attention to interiors. All of this is important to understanding Stéphane’s nostalgia for a place which never really accepted him, but it’s also a treat for viewers – and, at times, a distraction from deeper currents beneath the surface, allowing revelations to surface over time and carry greater emotional weight as a result.

Although aspects of the narrative will have particular resonance for LGBTQ+ viewers – especially those of a certain age – this assured and gracefully delivered tale, which will also make you laugh hard in places for all the right reasons, has plenty to appeal to viewers from many different backgrounds. Catch it if you can.