(ItвЂ™s no surprise that AdeleвЂ™s anxiousness with her relationship with Emma spurs from a night of erotic dancing with a colleague, a break from the quiet but battle-tested routine sheвЂ™s settled into.) KechicheвЂ™s intuitive shooting allows for the most quotidian acts, which can be as minor as a timed glance or as violent as swinging arms, to become visually percussive in each scene. What Emma and Adele share is major but not everlasting, the type of intensely physical and intimate relationship thatвЂ™s entirely common and yet rarely is portrayed convincingly in the movies without some moralistic hook. Blue Is the Warmest Color is less calculated and substantially more emotionally frank in comparison, and the volatile split that dominates the second chapter of the film leads to an impassioned yet sober consideration of a first love that didnвЂ™t turn out to be a last love. In that film, sexuality was presented as a natural curiosity that Kechiche teased out to the point that the entire film felt like a knowing put-on.

The much-discussed discomfort felt by the two actresses in filming that scene isnвЂ™t surprising, but both of these performances help Kechiche capture what sadly eluded him in his last work, Black Venus, a period piece about the slave Saartjie BaartmanвЂ™s time in France. Indeed, the now-famous sex scene between Seydoux and Exarchopolous isnвЂ™t so much erotic as it is thrillingly active, unfolding without pretense or much sound other than the ruffling of sheets or gasps of exertion and pleasure. The fact that his camera is often centered or directly fixed on ExarchopolousвЂ™s hips and posterior certainly raises a red flag, but then much of KechicheвЂ™s film focuses on simple physical activities, such as devouring a few helpings of spaghetti bolognese or dancing down the street at a rally. But KechicheвЂ™s film is written largely in body language, which has caused more than a few accusations of sexism and perversity to be lobbed at the Tunisian-French helmer. KechicheвЂ™s dialogue is, per usual, involving in its rhythmic naturalism, whether it be the swarm of highbrow opinions Adele wades through during a party with EmmaвЂ™s friends or the barely hushed gossip she indulges in during lunch period. WeвЂ™re rarely asked to pity Adele, which makes her struggles all the more genuine and empathetic. Adele must deal with a few schoolyard bullies, some of whom she once counted as friends, when she dumps a hunky, kind schoolmate to pursue Emma, but the writer-director sees his protagonistвЂ™s fear and tentativeness as primarily self-imposed. The key alteration comes with the adults: Both Adele and EmmaвЂ™s parents are minor though memorable and warm characters in KechicheвЂ™s film, as opposed to the shameful, angry bigots that Clementine lives under. The ebb and flow of physical attraction and emotional compatibility in long-term relationships is depicted with a striking, non-judgmental clarity. What the writer-director wisely tempers is the victimization, alienation, and dread of MarohвЂ™s anguished romance, which focused on an outer world of hate, hurt, and misunderstanding.ДЄbandoning the familiar sentimental bow of MarohвЂ™s work, Kechiche makes a birdsong of erotic discovery out of a tender requiem. AdeleвЂ™s tentative flirtations with Emma (LГ©a Seydoux) lead to a ragingly passionate relationship that spans years, much like Clementine and EmmaвЂ™s, but the survival that Kechiche depicts is of a bigger, more contemplative manner. The filmвЂ™s alternate title, The Life of Adele вЂ“ Chapters 1 & 2, underlines both the novelistic tone of the story, and the filmвЂ™s separation from its source material. Here, Clementine is renamed Adele (AdГЁle Exarchopolous), but remains a sociable and clearly bright high school student in suburban France. Their story has the timbre of tragedy, which couldnвЂ™t be farther from the vision of Abdellatif KechicheвЂ™s engrossing adaptation. In it, the author tells the story of 15-year-old Clementine and Emma, her art-school lover and eventual long-term partner, through death-struck flashback, stirred by the reading of a trusty diary. Julie MarohвЂ™s graphic novel Blue Is the Warmest Color reads like an elegy.

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