First let me say, I have seen some very excellent French films, both relatively recent ones and some of the classics from decades past. It would be preposterous either to condemn or praise a country's cinema across the board. But there is a genre of French film where I can barely make it past the first reel, and often don't, and that is the meditation-on-the-nature-of-sexual-love genre.
In that arena, these folks have a positive genius for taking two interminable talky hours to tell us nothing of consequence whatsoever, and certainly nothing we didn't already know. Love is complex, both painful and pleasurable. Yeah, all right already, we get it. Please, move on to some issues that are located above the waist for a change.
I could tell you something about this film specifically, but there are plenty of other descriptions of French films like this that you can simply plug in here, so I'll save us both the time.
In that arena, these folks have a positive genius for taking two interminable talky hours to tell us nothing of consequence whatsoever, and certainly nothing we didn't already know. Love is complex, both painful and pleasurable. Yeah, all right already, we get it. Please, move on to some issues that are located above the waist for a change.
I could tell you something about this film specifically, but there are plenty of other descriptions of French films like this that you can simply plug in here, so I'll save us both the time.