Louise Bernikow has described loneliness as “a tumbleweed feeling, drifting along, disconnected, surrounded by empty space.” It is a common malaise in cities around the world. You can see it in the tense and jerky body movements of men and women in restaurants. Or in the far-away gaze in the eyes of a person you ask for directions. It is the yearning that is etched upon the faces of those listening to a singer in a club or the upturned visages of those crammed into tiny places where jazz is played late into the night. French director Claude Berri‘s The Housekeeper provides a nuanced and inventive anatomy of loneliness and the surprising way out that can arrive unexpectedly like a gentle breeze in the middle of a heat wave.

Jacques (Jean-Pierre Bacri) lives in a small apartment in Paris and works as a sound engineer. This fiftyish man is still licking the wounds of being betrayed and then ditched by his wife of many years. Unaccustomed to taking care of himself, he's let his place become a mess of old newspapers, piles of clothes, and dirty dishes. At a local bistro, he sees a notice on a bulletin board: “Young woman will do housework.” He meets Laura ((Emilie Dequenne) for a drink and is quite taken aback by her youth and beauty. He hires her for one day a week and then makes it two days.

Although Laura has her own peculiar way of cleaning, Jacques is more than satisfied with her work. That is why when she tells him that she needs a place to live, he agrees to her staying with him. She moves into the bedroom, and he sleeps on the couch. Jacques is peeved by her loud music and interest in TV shows that he would never watch. But when she seduces him one evening, he realizes that his life has taken an unexpected turn. After harassing him with silent phone calls, his repentant ex-wife (Catherine Breillat) shows up one night and says that she wants to start over again as a couple, but he turns her down. Still, Jacques is so unhinged by this encounter that he decides to take a vacation on the Brittany coast at an old friend's house. Laura convinces him to take her along.

There are several marvelous scenes in the film which vividly convey the unsettling combination of loneliness and yearning that tug at the Jacques' consciousness. In the first, he sits alone in an open air restaurant next to the table of an attractive woman. He wants to make a connection but is afraid to say anything. When he does speak to her, she brushes him off quickly and efficiently as if he were a pest. And in the scene where he first waits to meet Laura, his face is filled with eager anticipation as he eyes each woman entering the bistro.

On the road to Brittany, Laura tells Jacques: “I love you. I’ll wait for you to love me back.” Is this fifty-year-old capable of taking the leap of faith with Laura? Their romantic relationship undergoes some surprising changes under the hot summer sun. Several pivotal scenes take place at the beach where Jacques feels most unprotected and uncomfortable.

Jean-Pierre Bacri (The Taste of Others) gives a tour de force performance as the brittle and finicky Jacques. His two eccentric friends mirror his social unease: Claire (Brigitte Catillion) who is immensely depressed, and Ralph (Jacques Frantz), an artist hermit who loves painting chickens. Emilie Dquenne as Laura easily conveys the spontaneity of youth. The Housekeeper is a delight to watch from start to finish. Claude Berri proves once again that he is master of psychological drama.