This movie is like half-popped corn. Remember that gooey feeling? The only reason to see it at all is a silent, dimly lit, near-still three-second shot of Virginie Ledoyen smoking a cigarette by the open window. Like her or not, you have to admit she looks great in half profile. A long-time advertising model (and bona-fide beach babe ever since she played eye candy to Danny Boyle's adaptation of Alex Garland's "The Beach"), she has become a very classy lady indeed. A little too classy for her own good perhaps. Which is true for the movie as a whole. The script lays claim to emotional upheaval and tragic turmoil, but the movie is all surface. If that's a dramatic strategy, it doesn't work for me. With outfits to match the set design, the characters are almost invisible against the backdrop of their tastefully decorated apartments. Think "Closer" meets "Match Point", minus any wit of note. There was only a single line I really liked. Judith (Ledoyen) is trying to convince Nicolas (writer-director-actor Emmanuel Mouret) that they must exorcise their obsession with one another by making its consummation as unpleasant as possible: "Let's do it on the floor. It'll be less comfortable that way." I'll try to remember that, and use it when the time is right.