Nicole et sa vertu: A dusty relic with a sharp tongue

Is this worth the trouble?

Look, if you’re a fan of early 20th-century French theater adaptations, you’ll probably find something to love here. Everyone else? You’ll likely find it as stiff as a board. It’s not for the casual viewer who wants a quick hit of entertainment, but there’s a strange, archaic charm to the way the cast performs like they're projecting to the back row of a cathedral.

Alice Cocéa is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. She has this look that suggests she’s constantly annoyed by the script, which actually makes the whole thing watchable. She’s the only one who seems to realize she’s on camera rather than on a stage in Paris.

The rhythm of the thing

The pacing is… well, it’s glacial. There’s a specific scene involving a parlor room where I swear the characters spend ten minutes just looking at each other before someone dares to sit down. It reminded me a bit of the awkward, drawn-out beats in A Doll's House, where the silence feels less like tension and more like they forgot their lines.

• The costumes are surprisingly sharp for how faded the print is.
• The dialogue cards are way too wordy. I missed half the plot because I was still reading the first sentence of a monologue.
• There’s a bit of business with a chair that goes on for way too long.

It lacks the emotional wallop of something like Mädchen in Uniform, but it isn't trying to be that deep. It’s just a comedy about people who take their manners way too seriously. It’s light, fluffy, and honestly, mostly forgettable.

I found myself zoning out and just watching the way the light hit the furniture. There’s a texture to these old films that modern digital stuff just can't touch. It’s grainy and messy, like looking at an old photograph through a dirty window.

Honestly? It’s fine. Just don’t expect to be changed by it. It’s a historical curiosity more than a must-watch masterpiece. Sometimes a film is just a film, and that’s okay. 🎞️