On one particularly hot summer's day, a chance sighting while having his hair trimmed decided Antoine's lifelong aims. He would forever have a particular fixation with breasts, with the ultimate aim of marrying a hairdresser (who might take the place of his first love). The years obviously passed without success, since Antoine only takes up his tale again when he is a reasonably old man. This time, on entering an unfamiliar salon, he spies Mathilde (Anna Galiena), who appears to be the perfect match. Heeding his father's (Roland Bertin) advice, that the sweetest catch is the one that's hardest to land, he almost immediately asks her to marry him. Fortunately she fails to reply, postponing their union until a later date. Thus is Antoine made happy.
From the very beginning, The Hairdresser's Husband carries a premonition of doom. For Antoine to be sitting down, reminiscing in this meandering fashion, he must have reached a crucial point in his life, an existence which seems to have held little more than Mathilde. Fortunately, this intimate comedy-drama is lifted by its erotically charged nature, achieved without resorting to blatant sexuality. The process of getting a haircut can be quite sensual, especially when you're an adolescent boy. With strong, but gentle, fingers massaging his scalp and the odour of love washing over him, Antoine is quite aroused by the close proximity of this mature woman. Since it is in precisely such ways that destinies are shaped, this is a point well noticed by Patrice Leconte.
To accompany this observation, Leconte proceeds to construct a romantic idyll, a warm bubble where two can be content. The salon is a separate world where the past, outside and all other people are unimportant to Antoine and Mathilde. Their love is absolute, complete in that they are happy just to be, sitting without talking, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling, as if at some private, hidden joke. The acting of Rochefort and Galiena is just right for this illusion, where he is strangely empty and obsessed while she accepts his love and predilections without comment. It obviously can't last though, especially as the mood slowly turns from unadulterated happiness to uncertainty and worry. Mathilde starts to notice time passing and fears that he will stop loving her, a preoccupation that leads to tragedy.
The main problem with The Hairdresser's Husband is that the central story is extremely thin, even for a film of this length. There is a certain lack of substance which no amount of character exposition can cover, especially when the film doesn't quite engage the emotions. Particular moments are special, such as the intensely sad and well-judged finale, but this standard isn't maintained throughout. A great boon to the intimate story, and 40s feel, is the very tight photography though. The great majority of shots are taken in close-up, such that only a small part of the body is visible, which focuses attention on that region (which is exactly what the character is doing). This really helps, as does the Michael Nyman score. In the end, The Hairdresser's Husband makes some very pertinent observations, becoming almost a shrine to femininity (in the Russ Meyer sense).