How can a film about the rave scene in 90s Paris be so dull? What should have been fun and interesting becomes, in director Mia Hansen-Love’s hands, simply disjointed and pedestrian. Who wants to spend two hours with a bunch of boring people who do little but walk around, sit around and feed their nicotine habit in one incoherent scene after another? Where was the editor when he was needed? Mind you, cut out the superfluous scenes and this would be a very short film indeed. Drama is conspicuous by its absence.
Did I say ‘rave’? Was the music scene ever as bland as this? How many shots of nameless people jigging around in samey discos with their hands in the air is it possible to sit through? Don’t believe the unexpectedly warm reviews of critics who would no doubt believe the emperor had clothes. Just fast forward to the nauseatingly pretentious ending. Daft Punk deserve better than this.