Overview
May 6, 2012. Cable news reporter Laetitia is covering the French presidential elections, while Vincent, her ex-husband, demands to see their two young daughters. It's a manic Sunday in Paris: two agitated girls, a frazzled babysitter, a needy new boyfriend, a grumpy lawyer and France cut in half!
Reviews
I'm afraid that I pretty much hated this from start to finish. Somewhere along the line "Laetitia" (Laetitia Dosch) has managed to have children with "Vincent" (Vincent Macaigne) but that relationship is now completely toxic. She's a reporter and on the weekend of the run-off vote for the Presidency of the Republic is out and about at work whilst he turn up and tries to bully the sitter into giving him access - despite the fact that he's shown up, angry, on the wrong day and she's not there (important conditions of the judicial grant of access he keeps waving around). Next, the kids are taken out into the mêlée where amongst the tens of thousands celebrating François Hollande's victory, yep - he manages to find them again, and yet more histrionics ensue including him thumping a random stranger and ending up in a police station arguing the toss with an irate policeman. Finally - and not a moment too soon - we end up with him at her front door at 2am with his friend "Arthur" (Arthur Harari) posing as his lawyer demanding to see the kids and arguing about the legitimacy of both of their behaviour whilst the kids try to remain asleep. It may well arouse feelings of man-hating from an audience, but frankly neither of these characters were fit to be looking after children and the constant barrage of increasingly vitriolic dialogue began to look more and more contrived. From an acting perspective, the relentlessness of the effort from Macaigne has to be commended - his ability to get under just about anyone's fingernails is remarkable. Dosch doesn't have so much to work with, but her selfish and ambitious persona is no less likeable as the drama crosses the line into repetitive boredom early on and stays firmly ensconced. Sorry - but it's simply a rant, a joyless and implausible rant.