Martin, a haunted-looking young man from a French town, flees his father's house following some unseen trauma. He winds up in Paris and moves in with his gay brother, an aspiring actor, and the brother's roommate, Alice (Binoche). She's an intensely pretty but cranky violinist having trouble landing work. Martin lucks into a career as a model and wins Alice's heart. Then, on a shoot in Grenada, he suffers a mental collapse—something to do with guilt over that unseen trauma. While Martin recuperates, Alice, transformed by love from a cranky, unemployed musician into a shiningly plucky heroine, bursts in on his resentful family to sort things out.
The movie lumbers on and on. The violinist charges about like Erin Brockovich without the American swear words. The fashion model sits in a downpour and torments himself like something out of Dostoevsky. What on earth is the point? (R)