Love Me Tender (dir. Anna Cazenave Cambet)

by Jack Martin | Aug 9, 2026

Certificate: 15

Running Time: 134 mins

UK Distributor: Peccadillo Pictures

UK Release Date: 7 August 2026

WHO’S IN LOVE ME TENDER?

Vicky Krieps, Antoine Reinartz, Monia Chokri, Viggo Ferreira-Redier, Féodor Atkine, Aurélia Petit, Park Ji-min, Manuel Vallade, Salif Cissé, Julien de Saint Jean, Antoine Michel

WHO’S BEHIND THE CAMERA?

Anna Cazenave Cambet (director, writer), Raphaëlle Delauche and Nicolas Sanfaute (producers), Maxence Dussère (composer), Kristy Baboul (cinematographer), Joris Laquittant (editor)

WHAT’S IT ABOUT?

A divorced woman (Krieps) explores her desire for self-liberation…

WHAT ARE MY THOUGHTS ON LOVE ME TENDER?

The double standards in all matters of gender politics are utterly absurd – one of far too many examples: a man who sleeps around gets called a player, while a woman who sleeps around gets called something far less endearing – but are even more devastating within the nasty business of divorce and any subsequent custody battles. How is it, for one, that the husband and father can commit adultery or be abusive to their spouse and/or children, and still be considered a more suitable parent than a wife and mother whose worst crime is simply exploring their own freedom? Even in a situation where the roles were reversed, a woman doing or merely accused of doing such terrible things would be much more likely to be immediately demonised and vilified than her male counterpart, who would perhaps be given greater preferential treatment as the perceived victim, while it is the woman’s life that completely falls apart.

Everything in that last sentence is what the protagonist in writer-director Anna Cazenave Cambet’s Love Me Tender goes through, in a story that shows how exceptionally unfair it is to be in a situation where you can have everything you hold dear just completely stripped away because of the petulance and prejudice of a male-favouring society. Needless to say, it’s a devastating watch, but made so very compelling by a lead performance that wholly captures the collective rage and frustration of being caught in a destructive and unjust systemic cycle.

An adaptation of Constance Debré’s autofictional novel of the same name, Love Me Tender follows a Parisian woman named Clémence (Vicky Krieps), who for the past few years has been separated from her husband Laurent (Antoine Reinartz) and has pursued a more creative profession after leaving her comfortable job as a lawyer. At first, the former couple have amicably shared joint custody of their young son Paul (Viggo Ferreira-Redier), but things quickly go downhill when Clémence reveals to Laurent that she has begun exploring her attraction to women. All of a sudden, Paul seemingly wants nothing to do with his mother, while Laurent prevents any contact between her and her son, culminating in him gaining full custody while she is effectively stripped of all parental responsibility, save for supervised visits every two weeks which, even then, take well over a year to get scheduled in. Clémence, faced with little choice but to consistently fight for her right to be a mother while also maintaining her newfound sense of self-liberation, is thus drawn into a never-ending system that, again, seems designed by nature to favour the supposedly wronged husband.

For far too many women, the vindictive nature of former partners will no doubt feel overwhelmingly familiar, especially when there’s a young child involved. But there is something extra stinging about seeing a woman like Krieps’s Clémence be put through endless misery for the harmless crime of embracing their queer identity and their general liberation. You can certainly argue that her leaving behind both a husband and son to forge this new life for herself could be seen as selfish behaviour, but it is very clear that Clémence never once goes a day without thinking about her child and how to still be a part of his life, a notion she goes out of her way to prioritise over her own blossoming relationships with other women. Cambet’s script doesn’t so much offer a balanced view of the situation – Reinartz’s Laurent is pretty much a pathetic and petty man-child of an ex-husband from the moment he first prevents contact between mother and son – but more so a deeper understanding of the feminine perspective, one that in this case allows the viewer to understand Clémence’s personal choices made throughout the film, including a climactic decision that may end up splitting the opinion of some viewers, while also empathising with her as she continues to get screwed over by the legal system she used to be a part of.

Amid Cambet’s steady and slow-paced direction – which one could argue is a bit too slow-paced, with the film often stretching itself out to a two-plus hour runtime – is a magnificent performance by Krieps that helps ground both the intimacy and the desperation of her character’s complex situation. On-screen for virtually every single scene, Krieps dominates with a composed yet subtly expressive turn which allows Clémence to feel like a well-rounded character, one who isn’t without flaws and is sometimes a bit too self-absorbed for her own good, but nonetheless has her heart in the right place and is, unlike what her increasingly despicable ex-husband may convince others of, a genuinely great mother who is trying with all of her power to remain as much in her son’s life as she’s currently allowed. The whole time, Krieps is fantastic at maintaining emotional composure so that the inevitable scenes of breakdown hit so much harder, because you can tell both this character and the actor have been holding it in for far too long, to where it’s almost a pause-for-applause moment when she actually does physically express her frustrations.

Krieps is the primary reason to seek out Love Me Tender, a film that is definitely strong in other areas such as its breezy cinematography and gentle storytelling, but can fall behind due to its lagging pace and irritatingly frequent expository voiceovers by Krieps that interject with the whole “show, don’t tell” method that Cambet otherwise seems to be aiming for. Nonetheless, there is enough to like about it that can overpower the emotional devastation you may feel while watching it, especially if you have also fallen victim to such a painfully patriarchal legal system.

SO, TO SUM UP…

Love Me Tender offers a formidable, if somewhat overlong, account of balancing self-liberation with unjust parental rights, which is anchored by a magnificent lead performance by Vicky Krieps whose emotional journey is so captivating that you won’t be able to take your eyes off her internal devastation.