A troublesome but fascinating figure in contemporary French film, Benoît Jacquot has made his splashes and exercised an erratic ambition, but you cannot find the consistency of either Téchiné's character detail or Assayas's conceptual energy. At best, Jacquot is a wistful interrogator of the viewing experience; at worst, his high-culture tastes glibly give way to the worship of nymphs. In fact, Jacquot's U.S. releases could pigeonhole him as a familiar kind of Gallic libertine, distracted by scantily dressed young womanhood and... More >>>