Isabelle Huppert, the original nasty girl.  Spoilers

If Rose asked me to paint her like one of my French girls, I’d paint Isabelle Huppert.

In summer 2024, R&B artist Tinashe released a single called Nasty. The song was simple, but catchy:

The song went viral on TikTok and bled into every other social media platform. Everyone and their dog was suddenly calling out for somebody who could match their freak. It found a seat at the modern-day slang table as a statement anybody could empathize with.

We know that humans have the innate desire to be loved. But it came time to acknowledge that humans have an innate desire for somebody to match their freak. It may mean someone with a similar sense of humour. But maybe, just maybe, it’s finding somebody who shares the same sexual fantasies as you…

Enter The Piano Teacher’s Erika Kohut, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert.

(If you can listen to audio right now, press play and keep going.)

The Piano Teacher (2001) is one of those movie-watching experiences I will never forget. The night began with me lying in bed, laptop balanced on my gut and the Criterion landing page staring back at me. I was aimlessly scrolling through its library until The Piano Teacher showed up.

What’s this? I wondered. I read the description: a film about a piano professor at an elite music conservatory… in a codependent relationship with her mother… and she’s severely, sexually repressed? Well, this certainly won’t be sunshine and rainbows, but it sure sounds interesting. *play*

One of the biggest pieces of advice in acting is show, don’t tell. For Huppert, she takes that advice and goes the whole nine yards with it. Never have I watched such a subliminal and silent portrayal of a self-loathing individual who’s longing for somebody to not only love her, but to also match her freak.

What Huppert shows through Erika’s actions bleeds out (oop, foreshadowing) such nuanced and rich detail about her as a character. Her outer shell suggests a composed, sophisticated and unyielding woman. But, when nobody is watching, the viewer is introduced to somebody lustful. Unstable.

Meet Walter, a potential candidate.

Early on, a montage of Erika teaching is interweaved with the opening credits. She works through a series of students playing tirelessly over a grand piano as she berates and belittles their technique.

Like Abby Lee Miller, but in a classier way.

She shows no emotion, just instruction. There’s a harshness, an unapproachability. She’s… intimidating.

In the next scene, Erika and her mother take the elevator to somebody’s apartment for a recital. A handsome, young blonde man approaches the elevator. But Erika, staring straight at him, shuts the elevator door (oof… cold). Turns out: both parties are attending a recital at his aunt’s apartment.

He introduces himself: Walter Klemmer (Benoît Magimel).

Erika plays a duet, and (for lack of a better term), slays the performance. Walter watches her with fascination. During a break in the recital, Walter seizes the opportunity to sweet-talk Erika. He talks about the need to keep classical music alive, and Erika, seeing his attempt to impress her, replies: “tell me: what enables you to speak of music so precociously?” He indulges her on topics of Schubert and Schumann, all the while she keeps the same, unsmiling look on her face.

Moments later, Walter also performs at the recital. In his preamble, he spontaneously performs Schubert’s Sonata No. 20 In A Major, D.959: III. Scherzo. Quite frankly, he plays very well.

At last, Erika cracks, and the face card does not decline.

While Walter plays, a long close-up shot is held on Erika’s face. There’s the faintest twitch of her face that, while so minimal, packs such a punch.

It is this moment of restraint in Huppert’s performance where less is so much more. You can see something has been awoken in Erika. Some degree of her desire reveals itself, and contrasted with her previous harshness towards Walter, the viewer feels let in on a juicy secret that Erika would never reveal to those around her.

Uh oh! Walter gives another woman attention.

After this point, we are shown a raunchier, freakier side of Erika. There’s a scene where she goes to an adult store and watches… what people can watch at adult stores… and another scene where she walks by cars at a drive-in theatre and fixates on a couple having sex in their car.

Meanwhile, Walter auditions to be Erika’s pupil at the conservatory. Although Erika votes against him, he is admitted anyway. In their first lesson, Walter confesses his love for her:

“I fought to get your attention, Erika, give me a chance. I know you’re not as indifferent as you intend… you’ve been stuck in my mind, like a nut in a bolt.”

Despite this grand gesture, Erika resists.

At a rehearsal, another one of Erika’s students is suffering from crippling stage-fright. Walter calms her nerves and makes her laugh. Erika takes notice.

Walter sits next to the student while she performs. Erika watches this kind gesture, and once again, Huppert’s restrained facial expressions enticingly descends into bitter jealousy. Tears slowly form in Erika’s eyes, and abruptly, she escapes to the cloak room.

The next scene is dead silent, but it’s another phenomenal showcase of how Huppert can carry a scene. Her back faces the camera as she scans the cloak roam. You can’t see her face, but you can feel something come to Erika’s mind.

Slowly, she gets up and grabs a used glass. She rummages through coats to find a handkerchief, wraps it around the glass, then stomps on it. She picks up the wrapped broken glass, dumps it in somebody’s coat pocket, then slithers away. Moments later, her student’s hand is cut to shreds.

This scene is alarmingly brilliant with the way Huppert carries the scene so gently over an action so conniving. It bewilders the viewer to see Erika stoop so low, and to learn that a secret yearning for Walter fuels her sabotage of her student. She targets her student, not Walter, because she’s jealous of her.

Erika runs off to the bathroom and Walter catches up to her. At last, they finally hook up.

The results are in! Can Walter match her freak?

At the next lesson, Erika gives Walter a letter that lays out masochistic fantasies that she desires engaging in if they are to have a sexual relationship, essentially opening the floodgates of Erika’s match-her-freak criteria.

No, I will not specify what they are. If you’re curious (or even interested in applying for the role!), you can watch the movie. 🫶

But, to her disappointment, her requests disgust Walter, causing her to unravel in front of him. She follows him to an ice rink after his hockey practice, finally confesses her love and forces herself on him. Despite the unpredictable behaviour from Erika, Walter says he loves her too and seems to commit to her letter’s requests.

Maybe, after all, Walter can match her masochistic freak…

Later that night, Walter comes to Erika’s apartment and role-plays in an abusive, domineering fashion. While it seems like he’s following her instructions, it slowly turns out that Walter is still disgusted by Erika’s sexual desires and weaponizes it to actually humiliate and abuse her.

“This isn’t how you imagined it, huh?”

The concert is the next day and Erika is filling in for the student whose hand she ruined with broken glass. Before she and her mother leave, Erika brings a kitchen knife with her.

In the lobby, everybody mingles, but Erika’s mind is elsewhere. She half-listens to the people around her and scans the lobby. She’s looking for Walter, but he’s nowhere to be found. Everybody heads into the concert hall, but Erika waits in a corner.

Finally, she sees Walter and his family check their coats and she approaches them. She holds a focused, sinister grin on her face. Walter’s aunt greets her politely, the rest pass by, and all Walter says is “my respects, professor. I can’t wait to hear you play.”

…as if nothing happened the night before. Gut-wrenching.

Huppert’s face is heartbreaking to look at after Walter’s dismissal. She holds her gaze on him as she walks away. And, while holding her gaze, she reaches for the knife out of her purse, and lets out a facial expression that makes you wince, no matter how many times you watch it.

Erika stabs herself, puts the knife away, and leaves the concert hall.

The majority of what you come to understand about Erika is through her actions, not her words. It is enhanced by a phenomenal control of emotion and facial expressions that pierce through you, and you’re left wanting to know more about such a complicated, tragic character. It’s heartbreaking. Her unconventional desires and secretive behaviour feel justified given her backstory, and for that reason, you just wish Erika could find someone who can match her freak. All thanks to an incredible performance by Isabelle Huppert.

Need somebody who can match your freak?