As occurred with both La collectionneuse and with resounding power on multiple viewings of L'amour, l'aprés-midi (and to a slightly lesser extent with Le genou de Claire), I was swept up in Rohmer's decidedly objective view of his protagonist. This young man seems a compound of specific qualities Rohmer would later explore in the aforementioned films. He acts entitled, behaves imposingly, falls prey to his own impatient impulses and is just as self-absorbed as any of his successors. We find him strolling a Paris street day after day, hoping to bump into Sylvie, a woman he regularly sees and has become attracted to. When she doesn't appear for some time, he enacts private revenge by flirting with a local bakery clerk. Once one course to romance is in motion, however, it becomes punctuated by a hilariously appropriate revelation.
Basically, in my own selfish story, La boulangère de Monceau is my Sylvie. I suppose all the horror movies I've been watching while strolling the streets of Netflix Instant Watch have been my bakery clerks. Don't get me wrong - I have not complaint for the excellent film's length. I just have this ironic tale.
