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Léa Seydoux's married a Gentle Monster in scandal-inspired drama

Marie Kreutzer's drama takes from her own life and the headlines around it, but flinches from asking provocative questions.

Léa Seydoux's married a Gentle Monster in scandal-inspired drama

On January 13, 2023, exactly three weeks after Austrian director Marie Kreutzer released her cheeky historical fiction film Corsage in the U.S., one of the principal actors made headlines over heinous accusations brought against him. Florian Teichtmeister, who starred opposite Vicky Krieps, was charged with possession of child pornography. Police found over 76,000 files dated between 2008 and 2021 stashed among his personal devices, resulting in him eventually being arraigned and sentenced to a two-year suspended prison sentence in September of 2023. These events loosely inspired Kreutzer’s follow-up film, Gentle Monster.

Gentle Monster centers on concert pianist Lucy (Léa Seydoux), whose relationship implodes after authorities show up to her German countryside estate with a warrant to seize her husband Philip’s (Laurence Rupp) electronics, suspecting the distribution of sexually explicit videos of children. Adding an extra layer of psychological torment is the fact that the two have a young son, Johnny (Malo Blanchet), who may or may not appear in some of the illicit content. What follows is a heavy yet mundane investigation—the bureaucratic banality of which is exemplified by the plot occasionally shifting to a female officer (Jella Haase) handling the case—and a handful of flashbacks that, now that the crime has come to light, hint at Philip’s suspicious behavior some years prior.

While Lucy is portrayed as being completely blindsided, the same may not be entirely true of  Kreutzer and the broader Austrian film industry; indeed, on the night of Corsage‘s 2022 premiere, director Katharina Mückstein posted about her dismay that a predator would be “applauded” on stage that evening. In turn, a steady stream of women posted their personal accounts of misogyny and abuse in the Austrian film industry, essentially spearheading a fresh national MeToo reckoning. At the time, Kreutzer bristled at the idea of distancing herself from the then-unnamed actor over mere “rumors,” yet less than six months later they turned out to be legally substantiated.

All of this is to say that Gentle Monster certainly seems like it would be Kreutzer’s attempt to face this all head-on, but the film doesn’t truly reckon with any of the repercussions that might arise from such a crime. Sure, the once-happy family is thrust into dysfunction, but there’s no real provocation—not on the part of the characters or the filmmaker herself. Any inclination to interrogate why is met with rote psychological assertions: Emasculated or “frustrated” men might find themselves drawn to easily exploited targets, and sexual assault is about power, not attraction, after all. And for all of the queasiness that the idea of child sexual assault conjures, there is no genuine effort to understand the motivations of abusers—and, perhaps most pertinently, the predatory culture that can embolden such urges. 

The film’s feminist foundation is tenuous at best, and largely pertains to Lucy’s unique approach as a pianist. A journalist describes her at the intersection of “the examination and the deconstruction of pop music,” meaning that she performs stirring modern covers with one caveat: she only performs love songs written by men. “Would I Lie To You?” by Charles & Eddie; “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure; “A Groovy Kind Of Love” by Phil Collins. Never mind that the last of the crop was originally co-written by two women; her reasoning falls along the lines of men not being adequately emotional beings, which fuels her desire to “take their words and question them.” It’s an intriguing glance into Lucy’s perhaps flawed artist’s statement, undoubtedly formed, at least partially, in reaction to the storied career of her classically trained mother (a sadly under-utilized Catherine Deneuve). 

And maybe because of these contradictions—of knowing and not knowing, of sincerity and BS—Seydoux’s portrayal of Lucy is utterly enthralling, and is all the more striking to watch in 35mm (and even snippets of 16mm) as shot by cinematographer Judith Kaufmann. An actress comfortable with wading in nuance and uncertainty, it’s unsurprising that Seydoux is uniquely equipped for such a role—only further complicated by her status as a vocal accuser of Harvey Weinstein during the original MeToo movement in 2017.

For the shocking nature of Gentle Monster’s subject matter, its name is lifted from a comparatively benign item. Kreutzer allegedly named the film after a South Korean brand of sunglasses, a pair of which she had on hand while writing the script. It’s pretty obvious, really—sometimes we voluntarily shield our eyes from the full picture. Just as Lucy could have been more suspicious of her husband’s caginess around his computer, or more discerning when it came to how the once-burgeoning documentarian filmed their son, Kreutzer could have given credence to the wariness that so many women had regarding Teichtmeister (in fact, his then-girlfriend ended up going to the police when she found a lewd photo of a child on his cell phone). 

But once one’s vision is adequately unclouded, is it enough to simply see things as they really are, or is there a duty to more fully grapple with the ignorance that was generated from that limited perspective? It’s still early days for Lucy, Kreutzer, and many women in Austria in terms of knowing how exactly to process crimes past and present, but surely the act of reckoning must yield more impassioned rallying cries than what’s on display in Gentle Monster. 

Director: Marie Kreutzer
Writer: Marie Kreutzer
Starring: Léa Seydoux, Jella Haase, Laurence Rupp, Malo Blanchet, Anton Rubtsov, Nils Strunk, Sylvester Groth, Patrycja Ziółkowska, Regina Fritsch, Catherine Deneuve
Release Date: October 30, 2026; November 18, 2026 (Netflix)

 
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