An astonishingly tedious movie that you continue to watch in the vain hope that Kristen Stewart's character (Maureen, no seriously, Maureen!), who resembles more a street junkie than an angst-ridden bereaved sister, washes her hair.
Laughable special effects (hovering cups, things that go bump in the night etc etc) are coupled with the preposterous suggestion that somebody has chosen to employ and trust the incredibly surly, heroin-chic Maureen to purchase clothes, bags and jewelry suitable for a high-flyer. Occasionally Maureen takes her top off (which even as a red-blooded male seemed to me to be exploitative), tries the clothes on (after being told not to) and does some more exploitative solo-girl action on a bed.
In between all this Maureen tries to contact her dead brother because she is a medium (possibly revised down to a small after seeing her topless). Eventually it all ends ambiguously. The 'arty' set love this film. Only because, and presumably that is why Ms Stewart agrees to take her clothes off, they collectively believe that if a film has a French director it must be dark, atmospheric and stylish rather than what it actually is: Pretentious, soulless and meaningless.