Much of Godin’s purple, declarative dialogue is delivered at a breakneck pace, as though these verbally nimble actors are running lines at auctioneer-speed while simultaneously playing their intentions to the hilt. The film is an exercise in radical compression, its velocity integral to its comic effects, though all the rapid-fire yakking and spastically edited reverse-shot sequences lead to a wordless denouement in which Mésuline searches her pockets for a cigarette in a shot that’s hardly protracted yet still takes up about one-fifth of this taut little film’s runtime. Her pleasure in finally lighting up is fairly adorable.
In an ever-expanding but nondescript North American city, Christophe, a middle-aged businessman, unexpectedly encounters Micha, a Russian acrobat recovering from an injury, while house-hunting. An instant attraction is quickly consummated and they embark on a torrid affair that helps each of them cope with their respective trials. A provocative, poignant drama about intimacy in an age of anonymity.