I don't know any models or rock stars, or even junkies, but I know people who have to wrestle with the very issues that haunt both Jude and Joy, and it's that familiarity that makes this little film, to me anyway, more believable than its slightly-too-smartassed dialogue would ordinarily allow. Every stereotype you've ever heard about the runway or the stage gets aired, but the script uses them as guideposts rather than as plot points, which makes the task of getting to know these not-so-charismatic characters easier. The relationship between the two is tentative and brittle, and the B&W cinematography adds just enough grain to make that brittleness stand out. A couple of things don't quite ring true - Portia de Rossi's eyebrows come across like Groucho's greasepaint mustache on a bender, and the loft where 98 percent of the film takes place never seems particularly Parisian - but in the easily-reviled realm of Rich Kids Suddenly Forced To Grow Up films, this is one of the few I've found worth remembering.
Review of The Invisibles
