Director Ozon appears determined to empty the cinema. Five scenes that could each have been told in five minutes take instead an average of about 20 minutes each, interspersed, inexplicably, with Italian crooning. The first extensive longueur is the opening scene, which consists of a divorce judge reading the dissolution document, which gives a foretaste of the fingertip-numbing boredom that is to follow. Even the characters look hopelessly bored, and their expressions rarely change during the rest of the inaction. This is another "don't you just hate males" saga, with M. Ferron acting the utter jerk in every frame. Within the first 10 minutes he is raping the bland, indecisive, explicitly naked heroine. Next he cruelly recounts his participation in front of his new wife in an orgy, incidentally telling of getting sodomised while he had intercourse with another woman while wifey watched, to spice up the yarn. The guy is an insufferable tosser, but there's ages still to go. Next he fails to turn up at the birth of their baby, and after that he falls asleep on his wedding night. If you are still fascinated by this empty, chain-smoking twit, then you have considerably more endurance than I. Meanwhile his vacuous wife is wandering through life beside him, her main response to life being the witty and charming line: "Dunno". I don't know why Ozon made this picture, either, dearie.
Review of Five Times Two
