Olivier Assayas directs Kristen Stewart, Lars Eidinger and Sigrid Bouaziz in this art house thriller about a young woman in Paris waiting for a message from the beyond from her deceased twin brother, funding her time in limbo by choosing fashion wear for a spoilt star.
A movie seemingly made in freefall. It grabs onto anything it can catch a hold of without properly grasping onto anything tangible. The supernatural subplot is more fruitful than the mysterious stalker noir narrative crowbarred into the middle. If you ever wondered what a Hitchcock movie might look like if his cattle had access to text, Skype, YouTube and Wikipedia then you get a glimpse here. It all adds up to nothing in the end, but a very decorative, hauntingly beautiful nothing. And Stewart really carries the whole thing, no matter how daft or convoluted it unravels. She’s always been the prettiest of the current batch of movie stars; grungy yet willowy, coy yet openly sexual, but she admirably appears to be committed to only working with challenging directors these days. Woody Allen got the best out of her so far in Cafe Society last year, but on the strength of her making this pretentious piece of fannying about quite watchable I’d wager she may turn out to be her generations Johnny Depp. More than an angelic face, as long as she dodges descending into self parody when she hits middle age / accidental franchise, I’d happily buy a ticket to just about whatever she makes from now on.