In this candid and fluent film, first-time actor Agathe Riedinger plays a wannabe influencer from the wrong side of the tracks
Feature newcomer Agathe Riedinger brings TikTok energy to this story of a wannabe influencer from the wrong side of the tracks. The director combines this with old-school social realism, creating a forthright and fluent film with a fiercely acted lead who is defiant, vulnerable, and central to nearly every shot. However, the narrative sometimes stalls, running out of ideas before the end, and the final ambiguity about success feels anticlimactic.
Liane, portrayed by Malou Khebizi, is a 19-year-old of French and Italian descent living in Fréjus in southern France. Once placed in foster care by her troubled mother, she is now back home, responsible for babysitting her younger sister, whom she’s molding into a mini-version of her brassy, sexualized self. Liane shoplifts and sells the stolen goods to fund her breast implants and lip enhancements. She spends time with friends, drinking, but is selective about her sexual partners. She has thousands of followers on her OnlyFans-like Instagram (although she oddly doesn’t have an actual OnlyFans account). Liane also harbors a poignantly religious sense of her own heroic martyrdom, feeling mistreated by online haters, men, and her dreadful mother.
Then a miracle occurs: a reality TV producer who received one of her raunchy videos invites her to audition. Liane is on the brink of entering the paradise of celebrity and wealth. Her icy and interrogative “audition”—stripped down to her underwear in front of the unseen producer behind the camera—is arguably the film’s most intriguing scene. This authority figure, to whom Liane is unusually obedient, asks questions that force her to emphasize the bad-girl image she had to hide from social services. This image is as artificial and constructed as the good-girl persona expected by officialdom.
After the audition, Liane experiences a euphoric version of PTSD. She believes she has secured a spot on the reality show. Everything she and the audience see—the old world, her old neighborhood, and the friends she is surely leaving behind—becomes sentimentally transformed by her impending success. She grows distant from a boy who loves her, as he is another foster kid, reminding her of everything she wants to leave behind.
But weeks and months pass without a call back from the TV producer. Is failure her fate? Not necessarily. Everyone knows that people like Liane do become reality TV stars—at least for a while. Liane has clearly demonstrated energy and imagination. Is there still hope and possibility for her, regardless of the audition outcome? It’s hard to say. The film itself seems undecided whether Liane’s aspirations are shallow and she’d be better off focusing on the quieter values of intimacy and love, or if she’s justified in aiming high and using what she has to achieve more.
There’s an odd scene where she’s caught shoplifting and somehow escapes from the security guards. She then crashes a fancy party and offers three creepy guys a private dance for a thousand euros but gets cold feet halfway through and runs away. (Did she leave the cash behind? If not, the guys were unexpectedly gentlemanly about it.) This highlights the film’s indecision about what kind of moral stance to take. Regardless, Khebizi delivers a heartfelt performance.
