It is a chill December day when I meet Ludivine Sagnier at her local cafe, in a grungy neck of eastern Paris. No press minders or lavish hotel suite for Ms Sagnier. I'm sitting inside, fretting that I must have the wrong venue, when I spot her through the greasy window. She has her wool hat pulled low; she's sucking on a cigarette, stamping her feet to keep warm. She might be an office worker on lunch break or a student idling between lectures. Sometimes the lack of a statement can be the most eloquent statement of all.
Nearly a decade ago, Sagnier arrived at a crossroads.