It's going to be very hard to write a review for this film that isn't going to be pounced on by censorship, but I'll give it a try.
Within the first five minutes of this film, a woman attempts suicide in the bathroom of a gay disco. It is, perhaps, the most cheerful moment in this bleak, drab film that takes a close-up and clinical look at women's genitalia and the men who don't love them. And apparently the women who aren't feeling too good about them either, since the reason that the "heroine" attempts to kill herself is, she says, because she's a woman.
A gay man saves her and winds up spending four nights watching her. Of course, he winds up doing more than that. At one point, he manages to lodge the handle of a large gardening tool in a rather intimate location... without waking her up. Does _anybody_ sleep that soundly? Well, maybe the audience...
In between long segments of the character "man" telling us why he's gay (although you wouldn't know it by watching this movie!) and the heroine "woman" tells us why its so hard to be her, we get some truly remarkable revelations. Ever wondered how long a woman could hold a rock inside her girlie bits or what large quantities of menstrual blood look like when smeared across the groin of a partially-aroused Frenchman? Then this is the movie for you! At one point, the heroine goes so far as to equate her reproductive opening to a vast black void, and in yet another we learn that men can give only death, and that's why gay men turn gay. Or something. You know, it's hard to follow a story when every line in the script is a veritable hyperbola of pith and the observation of humanity. Well, some seemingly quite miserable segment of humanity, anyhow.
I am, admittedly, not a devotee of French cinema. I subscribe to the stereotype that most French movies are... well... like this one. There are people in the world who take their lower regions far too seriously, and one of them has made a movie.
If you've ever wanted to kill yourself over the fact that you possess genitalia, be sure and check out this fine croissant stuffed with French cheese and a few things that IMDb won't let me mention using the names by which they're most commonly called. Mark my words, you'll never look at your crotch the same way again!
Within the first five minutes of this film, a woman attempts suicide in the bathroom of a gay disco. It is, perhaps, the most cheerful moment in this bleak, drab film that takes a close-up and clinical look at women's genitalia and the men who don't love them. And apparently the women who aren't feeling too good about them either, since the reason that the "heroine" attempts to kill herself is, she says, because she's a woman.
A gay man saves her and winds up spending four nights watching her. Of course, he winds up doing more than that. At one point, he manages to lodge the handle of a large gardening tool in a rather intimate location... without waking her up. Does _anybody_ sleep that soundly? Well, maybe the audience...
In between long segments of the character "man" telling us why he's gay (although you wouldn't know it by watching this movie!) and the heroine "woman" tells us why its so hard to be her, we get some truly remarkable revelations. Ever wondered how long a woman could hold a rock inside her girlie bits or what large quantities of menstrual blood look like when smeared across the groin of a partially-aroused Frenchman? Then this is the movie for you! At one point, the heroine goes so far as to equate her reproductive opening to a vast black void, and in yet another we learn that men can give only death, and that's why gay men turn gay. Or something. You know, it's hard to follow a story when every line in the script is a veritable hyperbola of pith and the observation of humanity. Well, some seemingly quite miserable segment of humanity, anyhow.
I am, admittedly, not a devotee of French cinema. I subscribe to the stereotype that most French movies are... well... like this one. There are people in the world who take their lower regions far too seriously, and one of them has made a movie.
If you've ever wanted to kill yourself over the fact that you possess genitalia, be sure and check out this fine croissant stuffed with French cheese and a few things that IMDb won't let me mention using the names by which they're most commonly called. Mark my words, you'll never look at your crotch the same way again!