If you're conservatively religious or not into gender-bending, I don't recommend this film.
Even if it's one of the best films I've ever seen.
Too much inhibition and a freeform embrace of reckless honest indiscretion, lead to sociopolitical complications after a rowdy husband kisses a reporter.
The news spreads swiftly far and wide and reputation and occupation are soon jeopardized, the foolish manifestation of an adolescent prank thoroughly enveloped in critical ubiquity.
He attempts to make amends by writing a book to wholeheartedly apologize, but still fails to understand the issue with passionate sincere conscious remorse.
I don't know if it's supposed to be funny as he haplessly attempts to make things right, and struggles to understand what he's done wrong through the sudden immersion in advanced semantics.
Brilliant director Monia Chokri seems to be humorously illustrating the enormous gulf, between the rambunctious contemporary caveman and new developments in feminist theory.
His well-meaning brother makes things even worse as his good intentions are led astray, by improvised overwhelming waking dreams wherein which he reifies chivalric reconnaissance.
Unfortunately, he's been somewhat unsuccessful regarding his relations with sustained pair-bonding, and his lack of traditional mutually concordant harmonies have transformed his hypotheses into nightmares.
They hire a babysitter to take care of the child while coming to terms with the media sensation.
The wife so jaded every practical utterance suggestively radiating bitter irony.
It may be the most hilarious film I've ever seen made on Québecois soil, I haven't laughed this hard since I was a child, the intricate detail indubitably mesmerizing.
It's like every second was delicately crafted by a supportive team each sharing their gifts, a perfect synthesis of dialogue and sound productively edited with astounding precision.
It's not just that she's taking on Xavier Dolan this film is better than so much of Godard and Truffaut, an incredible mélange of domestic politics internationally applicable to worldwide genius.
It made me think of ye olde Sedmikrásky (Daisies) or Le Tigre or Masseduction or Antisocialites, like an immaculate conglomerate of essences multilaterally matriculated matronly maelströms.
Sad the materialistic lack of voluble longlasting progressive initiatives, frustrating to see the march of history beguilingly devastating incumbent resonance.
Perhaps a costume is appropriate something out of the ordinary beyond infatuation, dressing up and solemnizing oblivion like thoughtful exercise for terminal distress.
Babysitter still makes a play to significantly change the masculine world.
They say fortune favours the bold.
Who's bold enough for this masterpiece?
