By John Corrado
Two Women, the latest film from Quebec director Chloé Robichaud (Sarah Prefers to Run), is a raunchy, female-centric comedy that serves as a modern remake of Claude Fournier’s 1970 film Two Women in Gold.
Fournier’s original remains an influential piece of Quebec cinema, and Robichaud’s version, which has been adapted and updated by screenwriter Catherine Léger (Babysitter), is a lot of fun.
The two women of the title are Violette (Laurence Leboeuf) and Florence (Karine Gonthier-Hyndman), both mothers and neighbours in a suburban Montreal condo building.
Violette is on maternity leave, with her husband Benoit (Félix Moati) often away on business. But his work trips are more an excuse to carry on an affair with his co-worker (Juliette Gariépy). Florence is in a relationship with David (Mani Soleymanlou), who is increasingly apathetic when it comes to intimacy with her. He is preoccupied with the condo’s greenhouse, but the only other resident who seems interested in helping is their young neighbour Jessica (Sophie Nélisse), who clearly has a crush on him.
The two women meet when Violette confronts Florence about the noises that she hears coming from their shared apartment wall (“like a crow”), which she mistakenly believes to be Florence’s attempts at exhibitionism. Their lives are drab and mundane, until Florence has an affair with the cable guy, which bursts the floodgates open for the women to explore their sexual desires.
The premise of Two Women could basically be described as people getting horny over a cold, Quebec winter. While Robichaud’s film often plays as a raunchy sex comedy, it also speaks to deeper themes about monogamy, infidelity, and the challenges of keeping intimacy alive in a relationship. Not every element of it works (i.e., there is a subplot with possibly killing a hamster that feels too dark). But once you get on its quirky, French-Canadian wavelength, Two Women is an enjoyable film.
There is a heightened quality to the film at times, almost bordering on camp or farce, and Robichaud brings a playful quality to much of it. But it’s grounded in the performances of Leboeuf and Gonthier-Hyndman, who not only do an entertaining job with the comedic beats but also portray the emotional insecurities of two women who just want to be seen. The tone feels distinctly Quebec, but the ribald humour and themes of desire are universal.
The Joy of Movies 