Claire Denis’ most recent film, Un Beau Soleil Interieur (A Beautiful Sun Within) is a tale of love lost, won, blurred, and then refined, only to rinse and repeat. The misadventures of Isabelle, a struggling Parisian artist, are depicted in a manner that elegantly captures the spirit of human awkwardness, although at times being a little predictable.
Isabelle is quick to fall in love, which may have been the ultimate cause of the end of her first marriage, from which she has a daughter. She is invariably tortured by loves lost, turning against herself at times to wonder just what it is that makes happiness so elusive for her. 
Her frequently shifting disposition is one more often evident in adolescents in and out of their first romantic endeavors: head over heels in love, then tossed out to wallow in sadness until the next comes along. Isabelle is smitten by men of varying backgrounds and predilections: a married banker, a troubled actor, an older gallery curator…and by all she is hurt. After a while, this makes it too easy to guess how her encounters will end, but the precise nature of their unraveling (as well as her own) is worth observing.
Despite it’s underlying sadness, Un Beau Soleil L’interieur remains comedic, the fickle nature of unspoken love – never failing to garner a laugh. However, with the predictably tragic ends of Isabelle’s romances, the lengthy dialogue can become somewhat banal, leading one to wonder when (or if) her interactions will meet their fateful conclusions.
Isabelle would appear more of a charmingly piteous figure if not for the brief presence of her daughter, whose custody she shares with her first husband, François. Her self-destructive tendencies create an environment in which François is uncomfortable leaving their child.
Instead of appearing an innocently hopeless romantic, Isabelle comes across as somewhat selfish. There she is, scouring the streets of Paris for love, when she could find it in paying closer attention to raising her daughter. In fact, the only time we see the girl is through the window of a car’s backseat as François drives away. There is no apparent relationship between her and her mother, feeling all the colder in its absence.
Still, there is the question of whether or not the artist can find love outside of his/her “milieu” that resounds well throughout the narrative. There is a certain understanding amongst artists about the passions entangled in the creative process that is not often shared with those outside their world. Is it “settling” for a painter to find love with a random drifter if she feels it is truly love? Is it equally hopeless to seek love from one who shares her passion whose own, similar endeavors create conflict and strife within the relationship?
In all, Denis’ film is a collection of witty tales about middle-aged romance carried out in middle-school fashion. The sheer silliness of conversation – and our inability to clearly communicate its subtext – is showcased elegantly. Though tragic and frustrating, the vagaries of Isabelle’s love still hold root in her beautiful sun within.