As easy as it would be for me to review what this film is, it would be even easier (and a lot more fun) to review what it is not:

It is not a romantic comedy. Actress Ludivine Sagnier (Swimming Pool, 8 Femmes) does not eventually fall for a nerdy, yet morally-just man over a popular, yet atrocious Trustafarian-type. She does date some strange fellows, one of whom has some very bad boy-band hair that I really, truly wished I could reach out and chop off, lickety SNIP!

It is not rated G. Although the gregarious and explicit scenes (think Eyes Wide Shut; think Viagra gone wild) are only hinted at and never shown, the picture you paint in your head is probably way more kinky than what you see because what you see is nauseating at worst (actor Francois Berléand passionately rounding second base with his young woman on the side) and hilarious at best (said young woman dressed up as some sort of Victoria’s Secret turkey, ready for sexual gravy. But, who’s ready for seconds?).

It is not literal. There are several archetypes of women in this film: the saint, the whore, the shrew, the virgin (although you really gotta suspend your definition of the word virgin for this one to make sense) and they are all (quel surprise) used by men. If you come out of this film saying, “What the hell kind of movie was that? What happened to his wife? Where’s Tibault’s grave? How come that crazy dude didn’t just bust out of that institution?” you’re thinking way too conventionally. It’s European, it’s got subtitles, it’s screening at TIFF… come on, you should know better.

It is not a love-letter to Paris. If you want a French kiss (good, bad and messy all at once) to the city of lights wait with abated Francophile breath for Paris, J’taime to come out on DVD (hell, you know I am!).

It is not great. I’m chalking this statement up to the fact that I’m just not versed enough in director Claude Chabrol’s work (but replace ‘enough’ with ‘at all’), so I’m ignorantly missing some points, I’m sure. However, at the end of the film, I just didn't feel satisfied. And, like all women, I think after 2 hours I should be at least satisfied.

In closing, I will say, it is not possible to leave this film without wondering what Sagnier’s next project will be. The girl oozes a languid, “I’m rail-thin but I’ve got a great rack and I know it,” kind of sexiness. Mark my words: it is not over for her.