Starring Marina Hands, Jean-Louis Coulloc'h. Written by Pascale Ferran, Roger Bohbot from the novel by D.H. Lawrence. Directed by Pascale Ferran. (STC) 168 min. Opens Aug 31.

Any screen adaptation of D.H. Lawrence's story of a noblewoman's sexual healing at the big burly hands of her gamekeeper is arguably only as good as its love scenes. Though certainly not as explicit as those in some of its predecessors – Lady Chatterley is at least the sixth version – the most intimate moments in Pascale Ferran's film are remarkable for their frankness, sensitivity and erotic charge. Connoisseurs of sleaze are likely to find all of this rather tasteful compared to the 1981 version starring Sylvia Kristel or several more Italian movies of equally ill-repute. But Ferran does much to rehabilitate a title that has become synonymous with stockings, studs and soft-core. In fact, she's crafted the year's most strikingly lustrous and unfussily lyrical film.

One reason Lady Chatterley differs so much from other adaptations is because it's based on the second of Lawrence's three versions of the novel, published in France as Lady Chatterley et l'homme du bois (Lady Chatterley and the Man of the Woods, which sounds less like a saucy English comedy than Lawrence's original title: John Thomas and Lady Jane). Deeming Lady Chatterley's Lover, the final and most famous version, overly verbose, Ferran felt that the earlier draft treated the relationship in a manner that was “simpler, more frontal and less tormented.” The basic details of the plot remain the same. Constance (Marina Hands) is the well-born bride of a man who returns from Flanders without the use of his legs. Life with Clifford (Hippolyte Girardot) is trying but she devotes herself to her duties. When he finally gets a nurse, she is free to roam their estate in Lincolnshire. After spying the gamekeeper washing himself, she is drawn to this figure of solitude.

Ferran again departs from tradition by not giving the juicy role of Parkin to a conventionally handsome hunk. With his low, heavy brow and stout body, actor Jean-Louis Coulloc'h looks more like a tree trunk. Yet his earthy, palpable physicality makes him as much a part of the landscape as the flora and fauna in the forest he calls home. Rather than just the gamekeeper's touch, it is her interaction with this whole natural world that transforms Constance. And whereas Lawrence's final version prized their love because it conquered class barriers, Ferran's film is less interested in the societal context – what her lovers claim is their own private Eden.

Little wonder that the film's soundtrack is filled with the twittering of birds and babbling of brooks. The best scenes are marked by a sense of quiet reverence – even when passions run high, the movie maintains an appealing calm. Likewise, Constance's initially tremulous manner is soon replaced by joyful radiance. Previously seen in a small part in The Barbarian Invasions, Hands deservedly won the Cesar for Best Actress for her title role here (the movie won four more awards, including Best Film). Thanks to Ferran's deft direction and the courage of her lead actors, Lady Chatterley has none of the qualities that can make heritage dramas or literary adaptations so stuffy or stultifying. Like its heroine, it achieves a perfectly natural state of grace. [Note: the release date for Lady Chatterley moved to Aug. 31 shortly before press time.]