The French have a term for a film this bad--un navet (a turnip). But turnips are much tastier than this tired, cliché-ridden mess of a film. I can handle a frothy film if it is done well, but this one is careless, with plot, with acting, with everything. Valerie Lemercier gets a couple of laughs as the aging TV serial star, but the conceit that Sydney Pollack would hire her character to play Simone de Beauvoir after viewing a couple of seconds of her absolutely mediocre TV series, plus some scenery-chewing in a Feydeau production, is absurd.
The acting here involves lots of smiling (Cecile de France) and trying to look pensive (Albert Dupontel), but no subtlty, no nuance. The only joie de vivre really comes from the gardienne of the theater, who dances around to French pop songs she remembers from her days at L'Olympia. Everything about this film feels forced, especially the budding romance of Fred and Jessica--absolutely no chemistry whatsoever. If you're going to make a romantic comedy, you at least have to have that.
Bottom line--a total waste of time.
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