J.A. Martin, Photographer

Leaden venture into the world of the period 'art' movie, not so much meditative as cataleptic. Primarily about Rose-Aimée and her decision to abandon her household temporarily to accompany her photographer husband on one of his annual tours (in 19th century Quebec), the title seems misplaced; indeed, this sort of erratic emphasis dogs the whole farrago. The structure works by too simple a process of accretion - a succession of 'telling' vignettes at each halt, as the couple photographically encounter capitalism, death, marriage, love, sex, even a miscarriage (he impassively reaches for his shovel). Their final rekindling of passion is only barely justified by the previous pedestrian episodes. And it's all heavily sunk with the usual up-market trappings: ochre tints, half-lit interiors, blank inter-scene pauses, long-held reaction shots; as if Bergman had got hold of The Archers. CPea.