Had been consciously avoiding reviews so as to stay fresh, but I was still expecting a loopy masterpiece when in fact this eventually becomes, consistent peppering of loopiness aside, absurdly sad and melancholic. Depressing to think that age will soon rob Denis Lavant of his ridiculous flexibility, and the somewhat drained motion capture bit is surely meant to contrast with his much beloved "Rhythm of the Night"-backed caterwauling in the coda to Beau Travail. Ignoring bits like Eva Mendes having blood licked onto her or talking limos, this is the most direct and accessible Carax has ever been. (Lovers on the Bridge may be easier to synopsize, but it's also as fearlessly antisocial as its protagonists. Whereas this, crazy "premise" and all, even features a dynamo staging of a scene from Henry James.) I can actually see why people find it so moving, as I do, too.