text: Sorry, but I usually love French thrillers - e.g. Chabrol - but this was a glossy shambolic mess. The fact that it was based on a Harlan Cohen book is telling, because rather than being a French film (strong on psychology and character), it's more like a John Grisham-esquire roller-coaster ride by numbers with ludicrous plot twists, flashbacks that update previous flashbacks, a predictable villain (as soon as his name is mentioned you think 'hmm, he'll be the bad guy!') and sets of mysterious stereotyped characters who seem to inhabit different movies. By the end I was laughing hysterically at the unevenness of the film's tone (the scenes where the lead character is being helped by two streetwise shady characters are unintentionally hilarious), the utterly baffling plot, the absurd coincidences and strokes of good fortune (e.g. guessing the password for an email account) AND yawning uncontrollably (thought I must have misread the 1hr 50min running time as it seemed to drag on for 3 hours 50 minutes).