Les Destinées

Like a good novel, Les Destinées is many things: a family chronicle, a series of psychological portraits, a sumptuous re-creation of the past. But the film is also a pointed tribute to the French tradition of quality and distinction, a tradition in which it clearly includes itself.

An impressively coordinated enterprise that lasts three hours, manages a large cast, and covers a period of 30-odd years while successfully unfolding as a series of scenes from the life of a single character.

An exquisite metaphor for the high cost and higher returns of an enduring marriage.

Full of elegance but hampered by lack of depth.

But the irony of Les Destinées is that while Assayas is a pro at examining the inner workings of present-day connection and nuance, he's so overwhelmed by the sheer historical scope and detail of this massive saga that after three hours we're starved for emotional involvement with such inaccessible characters.

Pictorial but oddly muffled three-hour saga of romance and capitalism, not necessarily in that order.

The movie suffers from two fatal ailments -- a dearth of vitality and a story that's shapeless and uninflected.