Trouble Every Day

A newlywed American neuroscientist arrives in Paris ostensibly on honeymoon and actually to find a former colleague, whose wife has an appetite that has to be locked in a room.

Denis is not interested in explaining the condition. There is a research trip, a plant, a suggestion of a shared cause, and none of it is resolved.

What the film has instead is texture: Agnès Godard's photography of skin, Tindersticks' score, and two extended sequences of sex that turn into consumption, filmed with the same rhythm and the same closeness.

Béatrice Dalle barely speaks. Vincent Gallo is doing something quieter and worse.

It was received with fury in 2001 and has been steadily reassessed since. It is slow, it is opaque, and the two scenes everybody warns about are as bad as advertised.