Review: The Hairdresser’s Husband (1990) – A Quiet Ode to Desire and Ritual

Patrice Leconte’s The Hairdresser’s Husband is a hypnotic, delicate meditation on obsession, memory, and the slow rhythm of a life consumed by longing. Unlike conventional narratives driven by plot twists or overt drama, this film moves with the pace of a heartbeat, intimate and measured, drawing viewers into a world defined by tactile sensations, quiet routines, and the small, almost sacred details of daily life. It is a story where desire is constant, love is ritualized, and the ordinary becomes sublime.

The narrative centers on Antoine (Jean Rochefort), a gentle, eccentric man whose childhood fascination with hairdressers evolves into a lifelong obsession. His fantasy is rooted in a formative, sensual memory: watching a woman cut his hair while Arabic music played in the background. The combination of tactile intimacy and evocative sound ignites a desire that will shape Antoine’s existence. Decades later, Antoine’s dream is realized when he meets Mathilde (Anna Galiena), a hairdresser whose serene presence and quiet mystery fulfill the vision he has nurtured for so long. Their marriage becomes a study in the fulfillment and fragility of long-held desires.

Leconte structures the film almost like a memory, unspooling time with deliberate patience. Much of the story unfolds in Mathilde’s salon, where Antoine spends his days in reverent observation. He reads, drinks tea, and absorbs the rhythm of her work—the clink of scissors, the hum of hairdryers, the soft shuffle of hair on the floor. Dialogue is sparse, yet every gesture is laden with meaning. Antoine’s love is expressed not in grand declarations but through immersion in the tactile world of Mathilde’s craft. It is a rare depiction of intimacy that privileges attention, presence, and ritual over overt romantic drama.

Jean Rochefort’s performance is a study in understated elegance. He inhabits Antoine’s peculiarities without exaggeration, conveying obsession with gentle humor and quiet gravity. There is a tender patience to his movements and expressions, a sense of a man living entirely within his own constructed reality yet fully present in each moment. Opposite him, Anna Galiena as Mathilde radiates enigmatic warmth. Her performance is measured and subtly erotic; she is simultaneously accessible and unknowable, grounding the film’s fantasy while hinting at the inner life Antoine can only partially perceive. Together, they create a pair whose love feels intensely real despite its almost ritualistic minimalism.

Visually, The Hairdresser’s Husband is a masterpiece of restrained sensuality. Leconte and cinematographer Eduardo Serra focus on the details of everyday life—the gleam of scissors, the swirl of shaving cream, the sway of hips as Mathilde moves among her clients. The camera lingers, turning the banal into the sacred. This attentiveness transforms ordinary gestures into acts of devotion, immersing the viewer in Antoine’s obsessive perspective. Leconte’s framing is careful and poetic, creating a dreamlike space where time slows and the smallest sensory details take on profound significance.

The film’s score, composed by Michael Nyman, complements the visual language with an understated elegance. The music is delicate yet persistent, echoing the hypnotic rhythms of Antoine’s daily rituals. Nyman’s themes underscore the intimacy and subtle eroticism of the film without ever overwhelming it. The combination of sound and imagery fosters a trance-like viewing experience, emphasizing the meditative quality of the story.

Yet beneath the serenity lies a subtle, persistent tension. Antoine’s obsession and the static perfection of his fantasy hint at fragility. Mathilde’s inner life is opaque, and the very idealization that fuels Antoine’s devotion introduces the potential for quiet heartbreak. The film gradually suggests that living entirely within a fantasy carries inherent risks: desires fulfilled may not withstand the inexorable intrusion of reality. This duality—ecstasy tinged with unease—imbues the film with emotional complexity, making its quiet moments resonate long after the screen goes dark.

Thematically, The Hairdresser’s Husband explores the intersection of fantasy and reality, desire and devotion, routine and longing. It examines how obsession can shape identity and how the rituals of love—watching, waiting, participating—can be both grounding and perilous. Antoine’s life is a testament to the beauty of patient desire, but also a cautionary tale about the vulnerabilities inherent in idealizing another person. In this, Leconte crafts a meditation on love that is both tender and unflinchingly honest.

In conclusion, The Hairdresser’s Husband is a film of subtle intensity, a cinematic poem that rewards attention and patience. It is an exploration of desire rendered in exquisite visual and auditory detail, a celebration of small pleasures, and a study of human obsession in its most delicate and profound forms. Jean Rochefort is quietly transcendent as Antoine, Anna Galiena magnetic as Mathilde, and Patrice Leconte orchestrates their world with poetic precision. The film lingers like a memory, a gentle yet haunting meditation on the beauty, fragility, and quiet melancholy of a life lived in reverie.

Verdict: For those willing to immerse themselves in a film of quiet rhythms, sensual detail, and introspective intimacy, The Hairdresser’s Husband is a quietly mesmerizing experience—a cinematic exploration of love, obsession, and the sacredness of routine that continues to resonate decades after its release.