Between August of one year and September of the next, a group of Parisians experience sex, love, death and moving house. They smoke constantly; they talk about literature; they fret about relationships; and they're about as fun to spend two hours with as a convention of chartered accountants.
Director Assayas has said he intended his film to be episodic and to avoid the "events, tensions and force-lines" of a plot. He talks a good game, but what this translates into is a ramshackle assemblage of grainy vignettes separated by blackouts and titles, packed with detailed, lengthy conversations and not much else.
Having characters talk about how much their friends, family, lovers and ex-lovers mean or meant to them is fine. But having them talk about it, and nothing else, for 112 minutes is incredibly dull - and it makes for a yawnsome night out.
