The Art of Love (L'art d'aimer) is composed of several chapters following several Parisian couples. Isabelle (Julie Depardieu) has not had sex in a year. She declines an offer from her ... See full summary »
When Gabriel and Emilie meet by chance, he offers her a ride, and they spend the evening talking, laughing and getting along famously. At the end of the night, Emilie declines Gabriel's ... See full summary »
When Jeff unexpectedly shows up on Ben's doorstep at 2am, the two buddies immediately fall into each other's arms. Since their college days, they've taken very different paths. Jeff is ... See full summary »
During WWII a group of Jewish children is sent to a castle outside Paris to hide there until things cool down, but it eventually becomes their new home. Later, children from the liberated concentration camps arrive there as well.
The Art of Love (L'art d'aimer) is composed of several chapters following several Parisian couples. Isabelle (Julie Depardieu) has not had sex in a year. She declines an offer from her friend Zoé (Pascale Arbillot) to "borrow" her husband and instead winds up impersonating Amélie (Judith Godrèche), another friend who cannot bring herself to sleep with her buddy, Boris (Laurent Stocker). The singleton Achille (François Cluzet) thinks his prayers have been answered when his svelte new neighbor (Frédérique Bel) knocks on his door wearing a negligee and suggests they have an affair. In another chapter, a middle-aged couple's marriage is threatened when wife Emmanuelle (Ariane Ascaride) finds herself lusting after every attractive man she lays eyes upon and a pair of young lovers (Elodie Navarre and Gaspard Ulliel) discover the pangs of jealousy.
The Most Egregious Piece Of Mediocre Imitative Crap...
This filmmaker should have his license to create films revoked until he's actually lived some life, as opposed to regurgitating tone and moments from Woody Allen, Rohmer and Truffaut. But without their wit and intelligence. I just saw this dreadful waste of time at COLCOA in Los Angeles. I've never wanted to shoot an off-screen narrator in the larynx before, but the vapid, pointless words coming at the audience to tie the random bits together is painful to listen to. And the incessant piano music from Mozart and Chopin to give the movie some class, or provide an ironic counterpoint counts as some kind of elder master musical abuse. All of the talented actors are utterly wasted as they serve the one-dimensional puppetry manipulated by the writer/director to fulfill his desperate attempt to be humorous. This film is the problem with film-school geeks who've been unjustly praised for their early short work, but have NO idea how human beings actually behave.
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