By the Sea 2015

In the sun-drenched, wind-swept coast of 1960s France, Vanessa, Angelina Jolie and Roland, Brad Pitt, check into a refined seaside hotel for a vacation that feels less like escape and more like an unraveling of their relationship. Roland, a once-celebrated author now grappling with stubborn writers’ block, hopes new surroundings will coax the next chapter from his mind. Vanessa, a former dancer, is quiet and distant, carrying a weight that she hasn’t yet shared, and their days drift between polite small talk and long silences. The resort’s rhythm—the rhythm of the waves, the clinking glasses in the bar, the lazy hours by the dock—casts a pale glow over their already fragile bond.

From a hole carved by a disused radiator pipe in the wall adjoining their suite, Vanessa notices a private world unfolding next door. Lea, Mélanie Laurent, and Francois, Melvil Poupaud, have just moved into the neighboring apartment, a young couple in love and full of fresh optimism. Lea’s lightness contrasts with Francois’s easy confidence, and Vanessa finds herself drawn into their microcosm as she becomes friendly with Lea. The two couples slowly discover shared pleasures, sailing together and sharing meals, the line between observer and participant blurring with each passing day.

Gradually, the voyeuristic evenings intensify. The group uses the hole in the wall to watch the couple next door, turning the act of spying into a strange source of companionship for Vanessa and Roland. That voyeurism rekindles a long-dormant current between Vanessa and Roland, reviving a sexual tension that had long been buried under years of unspoken grievances. Yet the renewed desire also carries risks, as Vanessa’s bold impulses begin to push beyond boundaries that once felt comfortable.

One night, Vanessa goes further and attempts a sexual liaison with Francois in his hotel room. Roland, who has observed enough through the wall to grasp the gravity of what is happening, bursts in on them, his presence violent and jarring. The confrontation spills into their own room, revealing the core wound that has haunted them: Vanessa’s miscarriages have left her with an aching sense that she can never become a mother, a truth she has kept largely hidden from Roland and from herself.

The moment forces a painful reckoning. Lea and Francois, shaken by the confrontation, decide to leave the hotel after Francois admits his infidelity to Lea. Roland follows them to offer explanations for Vanessa’s frantic behavior, and Lea, who is pregnant, becomes a quiet counterweight to the couple’s turmoil, signaling the possibility of a future that might still hold hope. The revelation and the ensuing conversation shift their dynamic from destructive secrecy to a fragile honesty.

As the dust settles, Vanessa begins to find a measure of peace, accepting the reality of their life together and the limits of what they can change. Roland completes the book he has been chasing, telling Vanessa that it is, at its core, about her. The act of writing becomes a kind of reconciliation, a way to frame their shared story with new meaning. With the hotel as a backdrop to their evolving understanding, the two choose to linger on their relationship’s hold rather than retreat from it.

Leaving the resort behind, Vanessa and Roland drive away with a soft optimism about what lies ahead. The future they face is not free of pain, but it is tempered by honesty, a deeper connection, and the hopeful possibility that their marriage can endure—even as they acknowledge the complexities that still define them.