I left the cinema very happy and with a feeling of a still lingering fear and intense joy that perhaps could come close to what you feel, still running but just having escaped unharmed after three hours of torture by a sadistic lunatic. The film was over. Following this sentiment of immense relief, there came anger. I know my Lawrence well and I have read all of his books, and my first encounters with Lady Chatterley's Lover (the book) was strong, so I had been looking forward to this adaptation. And here was the worst film I had seen for a long time. I was angry, because I couldn't find a single thing in this adaptation that would explain why I had had to pay for this. Nothing. Even the actors were mediocre (if they ever spoke!), our dear homme de bois, was actually at times quite laughable (the audience did laugh when they certainly weren't supposed to). Why, why, why? Why make a film that is so murderously non interesting? Why is every theme that Lawrence touches upon in his book grounded down to a sloshy Harlequin devoid of all suspense? Why did anybody come up with the idea of financing this film, less acting in it? Did the director take money out of her own pocket, did she rob a bank? And what had the jury smoked before they decided on giving this film a César??? <br /><br />Or if this is the best of French films this year, then just how bad is a bad French film?