Blue is the Warmest Colour

So this is how it feels to be a film critic. I’m not, i’m just a retired person with time on my hands, but there are so many good films around at the moment that it seems a shame to miss any of them. This is the French one about two young lesbians, with the detailed sexual nudity. And also the backstage story of the two young actresses who appeared smiling with their director at the film festival, but later slagged him off for his exploitative approach.
Generally, it doesn’t feel like that. “It’s three hours”, the woman at the box office said, as though we might demand our money back if we hadn’t been warned in advance. It doesn’t feel like that. The time flies by, because these lives feel real and interesting, and the characters are filmed so closely we shared every aspect of their lives. School, with the intense teenage gossip, and the fascinating philosophical nature of the lessons, is just riveting. It’s only the sex scenes that disappoint, full of grunting action but lacking speech or a real sense of the people involved.