Frère et soeur

Everything rings false in this caricature of French cinema. Not a scene that rings true, characters without any consistency but all hysterical, dialogues and situations having most of the time no sense. Melvil Poupeau and Marion Cotillard may vociferate, tear, moan while drinking strong vodka and tablets of Tranxene, their story of hatred touches us without moving the other. Is it because they play badly or is it because it's badly written? Probably both, but the only tear that makes you want to shed this film is about the cinema whose theaters have been emptying for 2 years: it is not with such turnips that the public will return.