The Souvenir, a Slow Burn Breakdown

Image via A24 / The Souvenir.

SPOILERS

“I’ve often felt the film was decorative, not cruel enough, that love was crueler than that. I really made Two English Girls a bit in reaction to Jules et Jim, intending to show the physical suffering you can undergo when in love, the nervous depression and breakdown, in the context of a love story.”

— François Truffaut, 1977

It’s 2005. Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is in theaters, and Tilda Swinton has hit the mainstream. Enchanted by this wicked queen and her stunning haute couture wardrobe, as a young teen I was surprised to learn that she had two children, more so that they lived in a castle with their father and her younger boyfriend. It may have even been my first experience of “Yeah, girl.” However, I was disappointed that the Swinton-Byrneses did not enjoy Narnia. This could be due to the innate discernment owed to being born in an unreal environment of art and culture, or because perhaps they really did think it was “too loud.” 

This precocious assessment came to mind after viewing Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir (2019), starring Honor Swinton Byrne, Daughter of Jadis, the First of her Name, as Julie. It’s indeed a quiet film, and not only because I had to turn up the volume to hear the dialogue. Many of Byrne’s lines are directly taken from Hogg’s own diary during her time as a film student in 1980s London, specifically the swish Knightsbridge district. As expected from this setting, the production design and character styling give the eye enough to digest without bearing too heavily on the story. This can also be said about the subtle, destroying performances given, which at times are almost too understated for a feature film. And yet over the course of two hours, I found myself drained from such involved viewing, having unknowingly been absorbed and then shut out again.

The Souvenir is, by and large, a romance. The film follows the protagonist’s first serious relationship with an older, sophisticated man, Anthony, who shows real interest in her artistic development. Few among us have been completely immune to such supposed charms. Wide-eyed and well-placed, Julie tells her university advisors that she wants to live outside of her privileged life, and initially he seems the last person that could grant that wish. Although the couple bears little resemblance to Truffaut’s New Wave love triangles, they do endure a third wheel that’s perhaps crueler than the pain of an unrequited love. Cleverly underplayed in the gripping trailer is this man’s heroin addiction, which spells out their relationship’s dissolution. 

The story itself is almost commonplace, but that seems an unfair criticism. As those who have dealt with addicts and/or addiction may agree, the plot’s simplicity doesn’t nullify its depth, nor does it sacrifice realism for dramatic exaggeration. Anthony is laid to waste as the film progresses, marked by his once sharp and then disintegrating Savile Row suit that he wears throughout. As more and more is revealed to Julie about his other life, the question arises of whether or not Anthony was ever as he presented himself. Frustratingly, this is never resolved. The couple’s bond weighs visibly on both of them, however the “physical suffering… nervous depression and breakdown” is primarily seen from Julies’s fractured perception of the situation. 

Swinton Byrne’s role places her outside of Anthony’s addiction, which seeps into her “privileged life” with distressing frequency, emphasizing how truly sheltered she was before. This distinguishes The Souvenir from other addiction-driven films such as Sid and Nancy (1986) or Requiem for a Dream (2000), which give the viewer omnipotent insight. Instead we share Julie’s discomfort in asking her mother for money that Anthony “borrows” and she promises to repay, her bewilderment when she learns of his addiction from glib dinner guests, her anger when she finds out that he staged a robbery of her apartment, and we sit in the car with her while he scores. While she’s paralyzed by displacement and overwhelming indecision, we’re left banging on the screen and shouting. 

Watching The Souvenir is an exercise in empathy, and this was felt most keenly for me when the story reaches its not entirely unexpected end. Anthony’s enduring love for Julie is apparent throughout the film, even when his addiction has almost completely consumed him. The most poignant aspect of Swinton Byrne’s performance is how she clings to that man, his character eroding with each passing scene. Much as one could judge her actions, or lack thereof, it’s hard to be damning as we leave this broken young woman gripping the one possession he didn’t hock. This particular object and the place in which his body is found after having overdosed show that the man with whom she fell in love was still there, somewhere. 

Far from an uplifting ending, a sequel to the film is scheduled for this year… somehow. I’ve proclaimed a radical forbearance on spoilers to this point in life, and haven’t even watched the trailer for Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch. Even still, I’m not quite ready for whatever’s coming next from Hogg and Swinton Byrne, but I will be soon.

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Zoë G. Burnett is a writer, menswear stylist, and film enthusiast based in Boston, Massachusetts. A born and raised New England Yankee, she feels equally at home in the 7th arrondissement. She is currently editing her first novel. You can read her personal blog here.