Une nouvelle amie (The New Girlfriend)

A loved one passes, leaving distressed feelings of emptiness in her wake, both her best friend and husband struggling to cope, united one afternoon by an accidental revelation.

Puritan codes of conduct initially confuse grieving Claire (Anaïs Demoustier), who's somewhat shocked by her sudden discovery.

But curiosity and understanding soon replace her dismissive state, as she forges a playful friendship with David (Romain Duris), and the two embrace the wonders of exploratory gender identification.

Mischievously masquerading, prim intimacies sewn.

Une nouvelle amie (The New Girlfriend) seeks to expand consciousness, to normalize what is often regarded as a taboo subject.

I don't think it's taboo, but many still do, and the film recognizes this peculiarity through the expression of Claire's reservations, as mentioned previously, and the odd looks they receive au centre-ville.

Her husband has no reservations however, and represents the chill inclusive bourgeois mindset, a normalizing force in the film, even if he does make awkward statistical observations.

The opening moments reminded me of Mommy, and I wonder if Ozon was giving a nod to Xavier Dolan.

The film struggles for the next 45 minutes or so though, choppy editing covering too much subject matter in too little a space of time, like you're watching a film on Sunday afternoon in 1987, until Claire and David take a trip to the countryside, after which it opens up and excels, although the accident near the end was a bit overdone.

I think it's a device filmmakers use when trying to appeal to both sides of the political spectrum when investigating controversial material that shouldn't be controversial.

The exploration appeals to the left.

Negative outcomes appeal to the right.

That's somewhat too basic.

Still, what a world, what a world.

Jeune & jolie (Young & Beautiful)

A cold stark excessively gratuitous portrait of a teenage sociopath, François Ozon's Jeune & jolie (Young and Beautiful) casts a chilling unresponsive gaze at bourgeois stability's apathetic spectre.

It's bare bones.

Or helplessly destructive.

Suddenly nothing interests Isabelle (Marine Vacth) besides pleasure, and she decides to search for this pleasure while earning a comfortable income.

It might be an experiment.

It's as if she can't recognize the danger, or lasciviously profits from its vicious prospects.

Ordinary or traditional forms of social interaction, rich in diverse variations on manifold themes themselves, relationships, poetry, familial warmth, simply hold no interest, a wild rebellious ingénue, blindly and recklessly courting the dark side.

The film's naked manuscript can't adequately capture the depth of her mother's sense of abandonment, but this inherent emotional vapidity augments Isabelle's carnality.

Like Belle du jour without the consequences, Jeune & jolie's bland calculated immature desire precipitates a baleful hush, violently curtailing the flowering of youth, its empty excesses, pathologizing discourses of the beautiful.