Playlist

Nine Antico’s debut feature opens with black-and-white shots from within a wagon on the Paris Métro Line 3bis arriving at the Saint Fargeau station. The camera almost appears to be people watching, which is the most exciting activity you can participate in when riding the Paris Métro.

Vocals from Daniel Johnston’s ​‘True Love Will Find You in the End’ traipse across the shot, paired with the deep voice of a melancholy French man who begins his film-long narration, ​“As children, life looked like a long expanse of love […] It turned out things would not be so simple.”

Finally, the shot isolates its prime subject, lingering on our protagonist, Sophie (Sara Forestier), whose place I have been in too many times before, leaning against the carriage door as she witnesses a brawl between two men, one headbutting the other before making his escape when the train screeches to a halt.

It is clear from the outset that Playlist is working towards more of a character study than a high-stakes drama. Sophie starts out as a waitress in her late twenties with little prospect of a career tied to her true passion: art. Beyond her ennui in her professional life, Sophie also feels unfulfilled in her love life, rather in line with the hammy eulogy for romance that the narrator has been dragging on from the beginning; her co-worker Jean (Pierre Lottin), who she has been sleeping with, rather bluntly confesses that he is in love with her when she tells him she is pregnant with his baby.

This sequence plays out in a borderline comedic fashion, kicking off a domino effect of unfortunate events that just sort of happen to Sophie, whereas she would much rather be the one affecting the world around her. Her luck begins to change, if only for a short while, when she is hired at a prestigious graphic novel publishing house on minimum wage, with a self-proclaimed ​“asshole” for a boss.

Playlist is nothing if not stylish, reminiscent of Noah Baumbach’s indie darling Frances Ha, its focus being a millennial woman who absolutely does not have her shit together. Antico’s film is messy in other, unintended ways, however, and its strength is undermined by a misguided desire to turn it into a rom-com.

Despite its title, the film’s use of music is surprisingly uninspired, as the soundtrack is tied to the narrative through coded moments: for example, the aforementioned track is repeated whenever we are led to believe that Sophie is thinking about love. Or, perhaps she is romanticising a life that is not hers through the potential suitors that she comes across (some more serious than others).

Misguided, wandering, and searching for a purpose, Sophie spends the remainder of the film looking for answers. The dénouement, however, is not fulfilling for her or the audience, sacrificing a potential emotional breakthrough for the story’s weak undercurrent of a quest for love.