In a small town, the doctor and his wife get ready for a ball. Her husband Charles brings her dress to her and she is thrilled, excited and exalted to step out of her grey marriage and into the light. She is a woman who dreams of bigger things, of romance and revelations, of a life that might yet be. She is Emma Bovary.
At the ball, Emma’s aspirations and dreams are realized and she finds herself swept into the social whirl and the arms of a Viscomte. Charles, delighted with his wife’s happiness, looks on in redundant pleasure.
Back home, under the thumb of her mother in law, Emma cannot breathe. Day by day her humdrum life and its lack of colour ticks by, lifted only by the misbehaving maid Felicité. Charles, the apple of his mother’s eye, assumes all is comfort and bliss.
In the bedroom upstairs, Emma has slipped into the silken sheets of a novel but Charles disturbs her. He looks for comfortable intimacy, she searches for passion and abandon. Failing to find it in the present, she drifts into her imagination and floats away from her reality and into a realm of freedom.
Monsieur Lheureux, a purveyor of fancy goods, with a nice line in sales patter and upholstery, arrives and persuades Emma to replace the empty space of her emotional life with luxury and delight. He offers silks, furniture and the sense of a life she wishes she could be living. Something away from where she is – the imagined future, the possible present. Unmoored from the floor she is free to live in a space where she can be whatever version of herself she desires. She parts with an IOU and acquires a beautiful chair. She places it in a special spot and leaves.
Charles’ mother arrives with Berthe, her granddaughter and spots the new and expensive chair. The child, loved by Felicité and her father, is both spurned and needed by Emma. She cannot understand the child’s presence in her life – she cannot form an image of herself as the mother of a daughter whose only option is to grow to be a woman in this limiting and limited world. Her husband has a visitor, a handsome visitor. His name is Rodolphe and Emma’s eyes meet his in a suspended moment. A path is traced before them into the future.
At church, the community gathers and Emma arrives late. She is unsettled and looks for comfort in religion. A moment of epiphany sees a vision of God – a great unveiling of peace and glory. Emma is beatific in this heavenly light – surely, with God’s blessing all will be well. Rodolphe watches. Seeing Emma preparing to leave with her family, he seizes a fragile, fleeting moment alone and allows her to feel the full force of his charm. She is dizzy with the thrilling attention.
An accident brings an injured man to Emma’s home carried by Rodolphe and another. Charles must save the day. He dithers in the moment of decision, and the man is suffering terribly. Emma runs to Homais, the pharmacist, for painkiller and he comes back with her bringing the drug with him. The operation is underway, but Charles is unsuccessful in his attempt to save the man’s leg and is forced to amputate. Emma’s disappointment is plain. In the aftermath of the surgery, Rodolphe takes the chance to pass Emma a note arranging a meeting. In secret.
In the garden at the back of her house, the two lovers find each other. Emma realizes the ideal version of herself in the silver shadows of the magnolia flowers and in a moonlit night she finds the release, ecstasy and joy in Rodolphe’s arms she yearns for. He finds a new distraction, a new and charming addition to his list of conquests. Emma’s fate is sealed.
Meanwhile, her purchasing has continued unabated and she is now seriously in debt. She visits Lheureux and in a frenzy she buys chair upon chair, issues one IOU after another and unwittingly digs the heavy soil that will come to bury her. Back home, she conceals her purchases from her mother-in-law in a triumph of sleight of hand.
But such highs are hollow and she crashes into an equally deep pit of isolation: from her husband who bores her, from her lover who grows more tired of her by the day, from the shame she feels in the face of the priest and the steady, bubbling fear of the salesman in whose debt she is now dangerously entangled. A web of men who surround her, pull at her and take her freedom.
Back to the day and her affair continues: she is now dangerously open with her lover in the bustling street for all to see. They make a plan to run away but, increasingly disinterested, Rodolphe leaves and walks from her. She is alone and numb.
Charles arrives to take her to the opera to bring some joy. There she sees Lucia Di Lamamoor and the drama sweeps her up. The music, the sweep of the story and the tragic figure of Lucia – blood soaked and mindless – combines with Emma to create a moment of ecstatic connection. She enters the world of the opera but the world around her slides. Into a nightmare. What is solid, stable, known becomes fluid and she is lost.
Back at home her world fragments – husband, child, family, fears and hopes collide in a disorienting set of visions and she begins to panic. The edges are fraying. Lheureux arrives and finally, terribly calls in his debt. She must pay or he will take everything. All of her beautiful things, her pride and her shame piled high in the street for all to see. And so she runs to Rodolphe for money and finds him in the street – he must help her, must help her find a way out. But he rejects her, disgusted. She pleads, reminds him of their love, their connection, what he felt for her. And her husband looks on, their child in his arms. Rodolphe leaves and Emma’s world finally unravels. There is no choice left but one.