During the movie she stumbles in to Vianne`s shop, beaten but boundless.
There is a little light source apparent outside but in the shop it is only dimly lit and there is also an eerie silence inside.
This delicate playing is used to call Vianne into moving on.
This condition is apparent as the film maker focuses on the positioning of the urn next to Vianne`s bed as if it was a constant reminder of her inherited ways.
She is effortless, whipping up an exotic array of delicious chocolates which awake sleeping passions and the empowerment of townspeople who have been oppressed by rigidity and rules for so long. Vianne’s intuition misses nothing, and she strikes for the jugular each time: helping to fann the flame of octogenarian romance, reviving the lost flame between a tired housewife and her lazy husband, facilitating a relationship between a bitter woman and her estranged grandson, helping a young woman escape a dangerously abusive marriage. And when Jaqueline’s husband Sierge drunkenly assaults the two women alone one night, and Jaqueline swats Sierge off Vianne with a skillet as he’s choking her, Vianne hoists Sierge’s 200 lb unconscious body off herself, lets out a primal scream of relief, and then — she . What would this film be like, I wonder, if Juliet Binoche were a dredlocked and wiry old man offering not chocolate, but magic mushrooms. Because, as we witness in a few sparse private moments, Vianne’s origins and fate clearly pain her.
She knows how to hook them on her product: by healing them. While the townspeople are learning to let go of their fear, Vianne has none. When Vianne’s landlady — a clear crone archetype, and the only character capable of matching Vianne’s personal power and authority — privately presses Vianne about how Anouk is dealing with their transient lifestyle, Vianne at last breaks down. But there’s no midwife available to help Vianne along her journey. In the traditional concept of the Native American medicine wheel, we have four quadrants: mind, body, emotion, and spirit.
never settling down." We hear how Vianne and Anouk have travelled from city to city also bound by the same north wind.
The wind itself carries a musical overtone of strong wind instruments and the light playing of the piano, which is played whenever the wind is present.
I find it endlessly delightful and appropriate that this film’s shaman is, of course, a woman: the chocolatier-apothecary Vianne played to effortless perfection by an ageless looking Juliet Binoche.
And her drug — her psychadelic enlightenment lubricator of choice: the deliciously benign chocolate.