A Taxing Child Custody Battle After Coming Out as a Lesbian

Not every laugh is a sign of amusement. When Clémence tells her ex-husband in a cafe that she is now dating women, Laurent laughs. But it isn’t a joke. Laurent laughs because he can’t believe it. He drains his wine glass and orders another, because he refuses to accept it. It almost feels as if he’s laughing at the woman he used to share his life with. Yet he insists he only wants her to be happy.

Clémence is truly happy, having quit her job as a lawyer to write novels, and now to pursue romance with women. She’s happy because she’s dating, because she’s having affairs, because she even enjoys a quick fling behind the scenes in a pool locker room. She’s letting herself go, rediscovering herself after twenty years of marriage to a man.

The Fight for Justice

But soon after, Laurent’s apparent joy turns to scorn for her new life. Until now, the separated couple had shared custody of their eight-year-old son, Paul. Yet shortly after Clémence’s coming out, Laurent suddenly refuses to allow Paul to see her. Even worse, he accuses her of pedophilia. It’s a classic homophobic narrative, with no supporting evidence.

For the writer, a grueling, nerve-wracking battle begins—not only for her son, but for justice itself. At the same time, she wants to continue living her unconventional life, flirting with other women, dancing through nights, or moving into a co-living space with a partying roommate.

Her Case Number by Heart
Because these are not opposing forces. This complex figure is what makes the French drama “Love Me Tender” so compelling—and Luxembourg-German lead actress Vicky Krieps proves her considerable talent once again. Clémence doesn’t always act in ways that are easy to understand, and it isn’t simple to form an emotional connection with her. Yet of course she misses her son. She can recite the juvenile court case number by heart on the phone—AF89-V377E12—so many times has she had to repeat it.

The fight for her son isn’t just a fight against her ex-husband Laurent; it’s a struggle against bureaucracy and the French legal system. Clémence is eventually allowed to see Paul again after a year and a half, but only under supervision—a depressing, demeaning arrangement, and yet the joy of reuniting with him outweighs the humiliation.

The Poetic Power of the Novel Finds Its Way into the Film

In this aspect the film recalls the tense documentary “15 Proofs of Love” about the nerve-wracking adoption of a child by a lesbian couple, and in Cannes’ 2023 winner “Anatomy of a Case,” the bisexuality of the suspect is exploited in court.
“Love Me Tender,” directed by Anna Cazenave Cambet, is based on the novel of the same name by Constance Debré, whose life mirrors that of the protagonist in many ways. Some especially powerful passages from the novel appear in the film as voice-over. Clémence thereby writes the text within its own adaptation—a self-referential trick to let the poem-like force of the novel resonate on screen.

While the autofictional text was described as radical and angry, the adaptation seems to miss both. Narratively and cinematically, the drama doesn’t significantly transcend boundaries. At 133 minutes, the drama sometimes moves slowly. It feels as though the film tries to pack a lot of content into many short scenes, but the result lacks a certain flow. The class conflict—Clémence trading a high-paid legal job for a bohemian life—receives only a glancing treatment on screen.

The Ending Will Spark Debate
Rather than centering on a traditional arc, the drama concentrates on the questions surrounding Clémence’s role as a mother: the nerve-racking custody battle, the power her ex-husband wields, and the precious, tender meetings with her son—the boy who bears the brunt of his father’s scorn. The relationships and affairs—some brief, others more serious—offer contrast. Yet they could have benefited from greater depth to render the conflicts more plausible.

A conventional mother’s role in a life that consciously rejects norms and expectations: that is the tension this film lays bare. A somewhat underexplored vantage point from which queer cinema could profit. And a provocative ending that will surely fuel audience discussion.