Until the end of the film, I was hoping there was a lesson for men/women relations, any kind of insight about desire, the passivity of women, the flesh, the need to control your object of desire or your own emotions, the dynamics of falling in love, of hating the loss of self-control. Maybe I was hoping to find some way to read it as a metaphor. But no, there was no redeeming interpretation found at the very end.
A tedious mess of a film and a rare miss from director Jacquot. Regular muse Islid De Besco also fails in a manic role which she fails to define. The film skirts between a 'Kasper Hauser' like dynamic and some immature rape wish fulfillment misogyny. Very disappointing from a director capable of so much more.