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It's no definitive masterpiece but it's damn close.

A lot of fun.

A movie that not only functions as a solid scarefest but a razor-sharp satire.

what a terribly boring film. I'm sorry but this is absolutely not deserving of best picture and will be forgotten quickly. Entertaining and engaging cinema? No. Nothing performances with flat faces and mistaking silence for subtlety.

I am surprised by the relatively low average rating for this film compared to the ratings of other similar films. I realize that tastes vary, but this deserves a higher average rating IMHO.I was drawn into the story and the interaction between the characters. Perhaps I enjoyed it more because I used to live in Europe and speak French fluently (the film does lose something for those who need to read the subtitles). I am tired of the mainstream films and this was so much better than the majority of movies being released these days.This is an excellent study in human relationships, life and love. It also had some very humorous moments. I also found it to be engrossing, as another reviewer put it.Like any film it won't appeal to everyone, but I thoroughly enjoyed this one.I hope films such as this one continue to be produced...

I saw this film last night as part of a Catherine Deneuve festival. She never disappoints me, and she didn't disappoint me this time, but the film did. Gerard Depardieu also was outstanding as usual; he is utterly amazing in his ability to portray vastly different characters despite his utterly distinctive physical presence.I regard any film that holds my attention throughout as being basically good, and any that doesn't as basically bad. This one held my attention, so it's good. I kept wanting to see what happened next.But there are degrees of goodness, and this one was down near the bottom. At the end, I thought, "Well, what am I supposed to take out of all that?" Two former lovers may or may not be reunited; if they are, it may or may not be the result of witchcraft; the half-gay son's girlfriend is unhappy about something, but I have no idea what it it is or if it's going to get better; her sister is also troubled, but I have no idea what about; maybe something significant was said about the politics of Tangier and/or Iraq, but if so it went over my head.The hand-held camera, as always, didn't make me think about the significance of the events that were unfolding; it just unsettled my stomach by forcing me to adjust my field of vision every millisecond. When you think about it, the basic rationale for constant use of hand-held cameras is fundamentally stupid. It doesn't add realism; it destroys it. When I observe people interacting, I don't dance around them as photographers holding cameras seem compelled to do; and if I do move, my field of vision changes smoothly and, to me, unnoticeably. But when the hand-held camera moves, it jerks, and the viewer has to adjust his field of vision and then absorb the sights he sees. Bring back the good old days where the images were the focus, not the camera-work.

André Techiné sets this story of undying love against a complicated backdrop of conflicted individuals living in today's fragmented world. Essentially a simple story of a middle-aged pair whose paths have not crossed in 30 years, until one of them, still smitten and unable to relinquish his love, throws himself, unwelcome, into the life of the other. Deneuve is at her restrained best, further shown to advantage by the always watchable Depardieu. The film's other main message is that life is complex and hard, that connections are increasingly difficult to maintain, and our attention must be scattered but vigilant in order to survive. Techiné throws in so many pieces of commentary on modern life that, while the main story is relatively simple, the viewer comes away under a heavy weight, as if having watched an epic film.

Téchiné once again at his not-quite-best is once again better than just about anything else going on in movies. The Tangiers in which the film is set is one of cranes and bulldozers and exurban office blocks and urban blight as work-in-progress. It could be any big, hyper-developing city anywhere, a point only emphasized by unglamourized shots of the spectacular bay and of the seashore, along which African migrants crowd in search of a lift to Spain. Yet it is also a place where sheikhs still cast out demons (at least on videotape, in a very sharp and funny sequence), and modern, Westernized executive assistants must try hard not to act too irritated or insulted when their foreign charges ask to learn how folks here cast spells. No one who can help it speaks Arabic. This is the Morocco Paul Bowles really lived in, not the one he wrote about. But in the gritty and astringently unsentimental world Téchiné always gives us, magic can and does happen, just as he has always been telling us it does – when, where and how we least expect it.Into all this he brings Depardieu and Deneuve, well into late middle age and pointedly showing it. The actress the French press still ritually calls the Most Beautiful Woman In The World allows herself to be shot dowdy and wrinkled, and Depardieu is a pathetic, clutsy, mastodontic wreck of a project engineer who's supposed to build things but who pulls them down around himself instead. Viewers who come to this film hoping for a glamorous "Last Metro" sequel will (deservedly) be sorely disappointed, but it is in the interaction of these two as truthfully aging (but only partly matured and not necessarily wiser) human beings that much of the real magic of the film lies. The sequence of their first encounter is transcendental cinema: Téchiné paces, lights and,above all, frames it with as much mastery as you will see in any non-Asian film this year, and the actors pour their lifetimes of experience into making it a moment of stunning, deeply affecting comic understatement. With such consummate virtuosos in front of and behind the camera, all you can do is purr.Balzac here meets the Thousand and One Nights, with sudden clashes of culture and of personality, and with acute, squirm-inducingly true mixes of love and its opposite between friends, lovers, spouses and (in bravura double casting of Lubna Azabal) twins, all real and raw, all in quicksilver sequences with minimum exposition or narrative explication. The film looks as if it may have been done on a very tight schedule: some of sequences show signs of over-hasty rehearsal, of cameras rolling before actors have gelled and mastered their scene.But Téchiné is nonetheless a master who makes so many films that he is taken for granted and mistaken for a reliable journeyman. He probably longs for a breakthrough hit and may have been hoping for this finally to be the one. It won't be: the French press comment has ranged from very enthusiastic to tepid to dismissive, and, as is so often the case, he is up against newer and glitzier directors with films being released at roughly the same time. (In 1991, for example, it had been Olivier Assayas's "Paris s'éveille", portentous and affected, that had eclipsed Téchiné's searing but, as usual, flawed "J'embrasse pas"; this year, it is Arnaud Desplechin's "Rois et reine", also featuring Deneuve, that will doubtless outglitz "Les temps qui changent", without bettering it.) But in Paris, chic will always win over substance, and Téchiné will never be chic. This doubtless goes a long way to explaining why so many actors of the first rank (Deneuve – long a synonym for chic – among them) do some of their best work for him and come back to him time after time. They know something about Téchiné that too many professional critics don't -- and so, by now, should we.