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I went to see this film with high hopes, as a fan of both Kristin Scott Thomas and many French films. But this turned out to be wholly disappointing. Tired old cliches about men, women, love and sex are trotted through a series of tired old plot devices (the lost phone number, the near-misses coming up and down elevators, etc. etc.). The main characters' careers in the lingerie industry are a flimsy excuse for endless gratuitous shots of t**s and ass (which might afford some titillation value if not for the interruptus shots of leering old guys). Much hysterical shouting substitutes for emotion, glib moralising substitutes for thought, and shameless hamming provides the only occasions for humor. Kristin Scott Thomas (perfecting her wan-smile-and- sad-sparkling-eyes routine) tries her best to inject warmth and intelligence to her role, as does the male lead, but the script ultimately leaves them with shallow, rather stupid, characters. The films' roundly dislikable characters would not in itself be a problem if the script (and drippy soundtrack) were not trying so hard to make this film into a romantic comedy. One is left wondering what attracted Kristin (and new wave grande dame Jeanne Moreau) to this project.
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