I actually love a good French film, with lots of French middle class people, having it off with each other and being very French, and this is that film. This is the most “French” French film I’ve ever seen. It’s so French. They’re all being very French; smoking, having affairs with each other, ambiguous sexuality, driving small cars. It couldn’t be more French and I love a French film, but it’s so dull, it’s so long. After an hour and a half, I looked at my watch, ‘is there really another hour to go?’
I couldn’t get through this movie either, but, having the luxury of not being a critic, I just stopped. Of note is that the writer/director is Guillaume Canet (aka Marion Cotillard‘s babydaddy) and that the film opens with a pretty incredible tracking shot if you’re into that kind of thing.
Canet is among the dozens of French actors whose portraits grace the movie theater inside Les Halles. The first time I saw it, I wasn’t wearing my glasses and I thought, “They put Christopher Lambert up? That’s kind of scraping the bottom of the barrel, isn’t it?” If you squint, you can see the resemblance.