Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

Honestly, you probably already know if you’re the type of person who digs 1930s French melodramas. If you need a movie to move at the speed of a modern TikTok edit, run away fast. This thing breathes, sometimes too slowly, and it relies heavily on the kind of dramatic tension that feels almost prehistoric by today's standards.
But if you like watching actors who actually know how to use their faces to say everything the script refuses to, you’ll find some real gems here. Charlotte Dauvia has this look in her eyes during the second act that just… wow. It’s haunting.
There’s a specific kind of dustiness to this film. You can practically smell the old velvet curtains and the cheap cigarettes. It reminds me a little of the mood in Champignol malgré lui, though they are completely different animals when it comes to the story. This one feels tighter, more claustrophobic.
I caught myself getting distracted by the background furniture during a particularly long monologue. Who decided on that rug? It’s hideous. But maybe that’s the point, right? To make the characters look even more uncomfortable.
I’m not saying this is a masterpiece. It isn't. Sometimes the plot just wanders off into the woods for no reason, leaving you to wonder if the editor fell asleep at the desk. The pacing is wildly inconsistent. One moment we are in the middle of a screaming match, and the next, we are watching a character pour tea for an eternity.
It’s not perfect, but it feels real. There is no polish here. It feels like a project made by people who were just trying to get a story out of their heads and onto the celluloid before the money ran out. If you go in looking for a neat, symmetrical story, you will be annoyed. If you go in looking to see how humans handle their own mess, you might find something worth keeping. 🎞️