At its best when it’s navigating the tricky terrain of manipulated digital images vs reality and how we digest visual information as pre-fab narrative. Particularly dig how the front windshield of Seydoux’s car is transformed into something approximating an IMAX screen - she can only interact with the world if she’s imagining it as ‘content’. But the satirical stuff barely lands, and the detours into melodrama are ludicrous (although knowing Dumont that might very well be on purpose). A mixed bag, but it has some virtues.
Effortlessly captures both the appeal of the neighborhood dive bar and the low-grade depression, that very specific malaise that accompanies becoming a drunk. I’ve been sober for over two years, but not a week goes by that I don’t reminisce about my old stomping grounds (Parrots Bar for any of you familiar with Chicago). A beautiful elegy.