‘A Private Life’ Review – A Twisted Noir About Guilt And Self-Deception [AFF 2025]

Rebecca Zlotowski’s A Private Life opens with a wink; the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” plays over the credits, and from the very first scene, it’s clear we’re in for something sly and darkly funny. This is not your standard psychological thriller or film noir homage. Instead, Zlotowski crafts something stranger and more introspective: a frisky, female-driven noir about guilt and self-deception, anchored by a terrific, razor-sharp performance from Jodie Foster, who, speaking fluent French, is just a delight to watch.

Foster plays Dr. Lilian Steiner, a respected Parisian psychiatrist whose tightly controlled world begins to unravel after the death of one of her longtime patients, Paula (Virginie Efira). Paula’s daughter informs Lilian that her mother has died by suicide, which is a revelation that shatters the doctor’s professional composure. Though Paula’s death is ruled self-inflicted, Lilian becomes convinced it was murder. Unable to stop crying, Lilian claims it’s a medical issue, but it’s pretty clear she’s emotionally coming apart. Her attempts to explain away her tears are part of the film’s darkly comic charm; Foster turns Lilian’s denial into a tragicomic performance of self-control.

The film’s setup is made to fool the audience into thinking this is your average classic noir, but Zlotowski subverts the genre’s usual male angst with something distinctly feminine, which is an emotional detective story in which the mystery isn’t WHO killed Paula, but WHAT Lilian’s investigation reveals about herself. She seeks external answers to avoid internal reckoning. The case becomes a mirror for her own unresolved guilt and loneliness, especially as she navigates professional humiliation. One of the film’s funniest, most biting scenes occurs at the beginning in which a patient, Pierre (Noam Morgensztern), berates her for eight years of ineffective therapy only to announce that he quit smoking after a single session with a hypnotist. The insult cuts deep, and it sends Lilian to confront the hypnotist herself, desperate to regain control over her emotions.

That’s when A Private Life takes an unexpected turn towards the surreal. Under hypnosis, Lilian experiences visions of a past life; she is in an opera as part of the orchestra and sees Paula being shot by her husband (Mathieu Amalric) in a vivid trance sequence that blurs fantasy and memory. These scenes, which mix Holocaust imagery and dreamlike orchestral settings, are the film’s weakest. They reach ambitiously toward metaphysical meaning but lack the emotional grounding that defines the rest of the story. The time-travel-like imagery feels out of sync with the tightly written psychological realism Zlotowski otherwise sustains. Still, even these moments serve a purpose: they externalize Lilian’s spiraling need to make sense of a death she can’t emotionally process.

The film regains its footing when it returns to Lilian’s relationships, especially her dynamic with her ex-husband Gabriel (Daniel Auteuil, who is just superb). Their scenes crackle with chemistry; they are just tender, funny, and full of shared history. Auteuil’s Gabriel, an ophthalmologist who “treats eyes,” becomes an ironic mirror to Lilian’s blindness to her own pain. Their exchanges, which are full of half-flirtation and half-confession, give the film its emotional pulse. You can easily imagine an entire movie about just the two of them; they’re that magnetic together.

Zlotowski’s writing, co-penned with Gaëlle Macé and Anne Berest, is witty and strikes a good balance of intellectual precision with sharp humor. The dialogue sparkles with self-awareness, poking fun at psychoanalysis while also acknowledging its limitations. Despite its heavy subject matter, which includes suicide, guilt, and repression, A Private Life remains surprisingly light on its feet. It’s often very funny in its darkness, finding humor in human absurdity rather than cruelty.

While the film does have strengths, it also has weaknesses; the film occasionally stumbles in pacing. The central investigation, while gripping and definitely attention-grabbing, lacks forward momentum in its later sections. Lilian’s search for truth feels more circular than progressive, perhaps intentionally so, but it can test the audience’s patience. The narrative doesn’t so much build to a climax as spiral inward, culminating in a quiet, morally ambiguous ending. When Lilian finally stops crying, she continues to wipe her eyes out of habit, as though her body refuses to believe the healing is real. It’s a subtle gesture that captures the essence of the film: even when the symptoms fade, the pain lingers beneath the surface.

Jodie Foster is extraordinary here. She brings intelligence and dry humor to a character who could easily have been cold or inaccessible under the wrong hands. Her command of French adds another layer of precision to her performance (which she speaks as if it’s a second language). There’s a rhythm to her speech, a clipped sharpness. Watching Foster unravel this carefully constructed façade is deeply satisfying. Daniel Auteuil, meanwhile, delivers warmth and wisdom in equal measure, grounding the story in something recognizably human amid its psychological games.

In the end, A Private Life isn’t about solving a murder mystery; it’s about confronting the lies we tell ourselves to survive and move on with our lives. Zlotowski uses the trappings of noir to explore emotional blindness and the desperate need for control that defines our modern life. The result is a stylish, funny, and devastating character study.

A Private Life had its Texas Premiere at the 2025 Austin Film Festival. The film will have a one-week Oscar-qualifying run starting December 5th at the Village East in New York and in Los Angeles at The Royal, courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics. The film will then open in NY and LA on January 16, 2026, followed by nationwide expansion on January 30th. 

Director: Rebecca Zlotowski

Writers: Rebecca Zlotowski, Gaëlle Macé, Anne Berest

Rated: R

Runtime: 107m