The year is 1995, and as Jacques Chirac ascends to the French presidency, the Élysée Palace prepares for a new master. Yet, Léa Domenach’s sharp political satire, The President’s Wife, quickly turns its gaze away from the man at the podium.
Its true subject is the woman standing just behind him, Bernadette Chirac. Played by the formidable Catherine Deneuve, Bernadette is introduced as a figure out of time, a relic in dated suits whose stern public face has made her an object of quiet ridicule. She is an inconvenient fixture in her husband’s administration, a political spouse relegated to the margins.
After years of enduring her husband’s public power and private indiscretions, she refuses to remain a decorative piece in the halls of government. The film charts her decision to stop being a bystander in her own life and to instead forge a new kind of power from the very position designed to contain her.
A Calculated Metamorphosis
Bernadette’s initial predicament is one of profound irrelevance. Her degree in political science is a forgotten credential, and her opinions are actively dismissed by her own family. Her ambitious daughter Claude, an advisor to her father, treats her with disdain, while her husband’s contempt is so casual he passes her a note reading “Taisez-vous!” (“Shut up!”) during a public speech.
The turning point arrives not as an emotional outburst, but as a cold political calculation following a survey that confirms her image as an austere has-been. This realization prompts a quiet coup. Aligning with a new chief of staff, the shrewd Bernard Niquet, Bernadette begins a campaign of meticulous self-reinvention.
The plan is executed with tactical precision: her wardrobe is updated by Karl Lagerfeld, she studies the public grace of Princess Diana, and she learns to manipulate the media with a newfound deftness. The result is a stunning reversal of fortune.
She becomes a media sensation, a beloved public figure whose popularity becomes a genuine political asset. The film is careful not to cast her as a simple heroine; she is a shrewd operator, willing to employ ruthless tactics to secure her position.
Icons and Caricatures
The film rests on the shoulders of its performers, particularly the stately presence of Catherine Deneuve. Her portrayal of Bernadette is a masterclass in precision and contained wit. With a subtle glance or a slight tilt of her head, she communicates volumes of disappointment and disdain, all while maintaining a composed, almost indifferent French exterior.
Her performance gives the character a magnetic quality, making her transformation both believable and absorbing. Opposite her, Michel Vuillermoz depicts Jacques Chirac not as a monster but as a comically rendered foil. He is a goofy, lanky figure whose public charisma hides a deep-seated condescension, a self-important charlatan made foolish by his own ego.
Vuillermoz’s physical performance brings a cartoonish sensibility that amplifies the film’s satirical bite. The humorous, easy rapport between Deneuve and Denis Podalydès, as the loyal Bernard Niquet, provides a warm counterpoint to the chill within the presidential marriage.
History by Creative License
Director Léa Domenach signals from the outset that her film is a “quasi-biopic,” one that plays fast and loose with the historical record for dramatic effect. The narrative is punctuated by plainly fictionalized scenes—secret meetings with political rivals in confessional booths, a night out with a boyband—that serve its playful and puckish approach to the past.
This fabrication is cheekily juxtaposed with moments of repurposed reality, such as Bernadette’s meeting with Hillary Clinton, where Deneuve is inserted into archival news footage via green screen. This stylistic choice underscores the film’s theme of image-making.
The camera captures the grand, stuffy opulence of French state functions, relishing the visual splendor while simultaneously poking fun at the artifice of the people who inhabit these spaces. While some of the humor is rooted specifically in French politics of the era, the film succeeds as a spirited and focused portrait of its heroine’s formidable cleverness and ambition.
Currently, The President’s Wife is showing in select theaters; it may soon be available for digital rental or purchase via platforms such as Apple TV and Amazon Prime Video.
Full Credits
Director: Léa Domenach
Writers: (Not specified; fictionalized biopic format)
Producers: Lily Garrison, Mark Monroe, Jon Bardin (documentary version) – Note: Producers vary in documentary vs biopic context
Executive Producers: (Biopic) Cohen Media Group; (Documentary) include Liz Garbus, Dan Cogan, Kate Barry, Mala Chapple, Tommy Coriale, Jude Gerard‑Prest, Amy Herdy
Cast: Catherine Deneuve (Bernadette Chirac), Michel Vuillermoz (Jacques Chirac), Denis Podalydès, Sara Giraudeau
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): (Not publicly listed)
Editors: Patrick McMahon, ACE (documentary)/Amy Renner (biopic article mention)
Composer: Jonathan Zalben
The Review
The President's Wife
The President's Wife is a witty and stylish political satire, anchored by a masterful performance from Catherine Deneuve. While its historical accuracy is intentionally loose and its humor can be culturally specific, the film succeeds as a sharp portrait of a woman's calculated rise from the margins. It smartly focuses on the artifice of power and the mechanics of reinventing a public persona, making it a sophisticated character study smartly dressed as a lighthearted biopic.
PROS
- Catherine Deneuve's precise and commanding central performance.
- A witty script with a sharp, satirical tone.
- An amusing portrayal of Jacques Chirac as a comedic foil.
- Stylish direction that playfully blends fact and fiction.
CONS
- Humor can be too specific to French politics for a wider audience.
- The narrative sometimes feels light on political or emotional weight.
- Its celebratory focus can dull the satirical edge.