A thoughtful analysis of gender semantics via sexual play, stripping through the layers of fig leaves, crutches and posturing we've all probably employed in one form or another. It's rather more equivocal than other works by Breillat where the parred-down quality - sexual politicking as well as aesthetic - works in it's favour depicting the eternal struggle in a series of mundanities, such is its true habitat.
Muted tones, shades of blue, grey, the dark sea. It quickly occurs to us that Breillat is using color & shade to reflect upon the limitations of gender relations, upon society's ways of suffocating psychology. Each scene pivots on transformation. Breillat's camera glides with a calm spiritual concern for these characters who fuck, philosophize, listen & respond to each other, change. Breillat's gentlest masterpiece.
Desire for a subject that functions like a brief fling with no future as such, yet embellished by that very fact. Because something fleeting and futureless is not necessarily pathetic or trivial. A brief crossing, perhaps an initiatory trip. the eternal play of Masculine/Feminine.
- someone on the internet