For my money Francois Ozon turned out one half-decent film, 8 Women surrounded before and after by a pile of pretentious twaddle targeting the Academic-pseud axis and this is yet another destined to ricochet like a pin-ball around the Festival circuit. Stories about psycho=analysis are hardly new, even when Hitchcock had a stab with Spellbound it was old hat but it keeps cropping up in titles as diverse as, say, equs and Dressed To Kill. So, yes, there is a market for this stuff but Ozon is the wrong promoter.
Review of Double Lover
