★☆☆☆☆ A belated follow up to his 1997 shrug-of-a-movie Fall, Eric Schaeffer's After Fall, Winter (2011) is the most narcissistic, shallow piece of filmmaking the entire festival had to offer. As ever with films such as this, our protagonist Michael (played by Schaeffer himself) is a failed writer who moves to Paris for seemingly no reason other than to pace the rain washed streets at night, gurning like a man whose face has been anaesthetised.
Through a tired plot contrivance, Michael ends up tumbling madly in love with a Parisian Dominatrix (Lizzie Brocheré), who naturally reciprocates his adoration, presumably intoxicated by Michael - old enough to be her father - and his pedantic ways. Or it could perhaps be his overflowing belly that the film treats us to viewing on numerous occasions.
This reviewer has a hard enough time stomaching the endless cycle of male-directed pieces that feature young nubiles falling for...
Through a tired plot contrivance, Michael ends up tumbling madly in love with a Parisian Dominatrix (Lizzie Brocheré), who naturally reciprocates his adoration, presumably intoxicated by Michael - old enough to be her father - and his pedantic ways. Or it could perhaps be his overflowing belly that the film treats us to viewing on numerous occasions.
This reviewer has a hard enough time stomaching the endless cycle of male-directed pieces that feature young nubiles falling for...
- 10/16/2011
- by Daniel Green
- CineVue
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