This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
WraithApe’s review published on Letterboxd:
This review may contain spoilers.
Four Nights of a Wiener more like. Wimpy 70s edgelord Jacques prevents a girl from jumping off a bridge in the easiest talk-down ever then proceeds to rendezvous with her for the next three nights.
On the second night they tell each other their life stories. Jacques is a skeevy artist who spends his days following random women around the streets of Paris and painting crap pop art to the sound of his own voice. He loves the sound of his own voice so much he records himself saying various non sequiturs on his dictaphone, which he plays on loop as he paints. At one point his pretentious mate pops round to give him an unsolicited lecture in negative space and shows him photographs of spots before unceremoniously making his exit. Martha's story is that Martha is a sullen bitch who lives at home with her mother and a boarder who she fell in love just before he pissed off to Yale for a year leaving her to mooch about like a wet lampshade.
On third day Jacques makes field recordings of pigeons in the local park.
Tragically, both Jacques and Martha suffer from Moebius Syndome. The amazing coincidence of their sharing this rare affliction inevitably brings them closer together.
On the fourth night, Martha declares her undying love for him before running off with the guy that ditched her. Jacques shrugs and returns to his attic to make more shit pop art.