An odd film that combines Bunuelian absurdity with Rohmer's simplicity. At the beginning I felt it 'read' in a very odd way, but it grew on me and by the end I was quite enjoying it. Maybe a little too dispirited for my taste, but still quite palatable.

If this film is any indication, i think i might have misjudged Brisseau. Although to be fair, this is really nothing at all like the pretentious softcore nonsense of Secret Things. If anything, it feels more akin to the idiosyncrasies of Luc Moullet or Paul Vecchiali, with a deadpan absurdist bent filtered through gritty cinema verite aesthetics and strong social commentary. The tone can be uneven, and i found the ending sort of cheap and exploitative, but otherwise it's really quite good.