Michael Stringer’s review published on Letterboxd:
A slow burning bureaucratic nightmare; a decadent hallucination of moral vacuity. How has it taken me so long to come across this film? Some of the most hauntingly beautiful images of Paris (or of Delon for that matter), and it’s definitely up there with Army of Shadows and The Conformist. By slowly striping away personal identity, the film also shows the social impossibility of this very process. That tension ratchets its way to an ending of horrific complexity, one I’m not quite sure how I feel about. If it sounds like I’m circling around a lot of vagaries, that probably because the film leaves you at a total loss.