little of himself other than his heavily—tattooed body, while helene wants more, even travelling to moscowjustr as the object of her obsession. adapted from an early �*90s novel by annie ernaux and directed by french—lebanese film—maker danielle arbid, this is heartfelt but also rather hackneyed fare. a film that requires us to care about a doomed relationship between two people who have apparently nothing in common and neither of whom does anything of interest other than behave badly, to themselves, to each other, to their families, and ultimately to us the audience. while dosch, who carries the movie, can breathe inventive life into any character she takes on, polunin just seems to be playing himself as a boringly mono—dimensional heavily—tattooed macho putin fan. what helene sees in him, other than his pert backside, is a mystery. add to this a soundtrack full of perky pop covers that might be ironic but mayjust be plain bad, and simple passion, or passion simple, left me longing for this dreary relationship to be over. music: only you by the flying picketts you canjudge it for yourself on