Sinopsis(1)
As a heat wave brings a Marseille neighbourhood to the boil, three roommates gleefully meddle in the lives of their neighbours from their balcony. Until a late night drink turns into a bloody affair. (Cannes Film Festival)
Reseñas (2)
Una comedia de terror feminista loca con tres mujeres histéricas, un glande mordido, un cadáver en el refrigerador, fantasmas de hombres muertos y una buena dosis de sangre y, sobre todo, de desnudez femenina, algo a lo que no estamos acostumbrados ni siquiera en el mainstream francés (ni en otros lugares). En esta película, que parece ser una metáfora de la difícil lucha de las mujeres sufrientes contra los hombres - idiotas, la desnudez le agrega interesantemente la sinceridad en la expresión de la feminidad. Sin embargo, este casi caótico popurrí de géneros lleno de energía admirable carece de una dramaturgia funcional que lo convierta en una película objetivamente buena. [Cannes FF]
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The most peculiar character for The Balconettes is the episodic figure of the annoying critic, distanced via an online call and naturally in the form of an old white guy, who embodies an alibi for the whole work – he is supposed to defend it against criticism, which has already been shredded in the spirit of the teenage imperative “you don't understand me, because you’re dumb”. That doesn’t change the fact that The Balconettes remains a boorish mess. Though it aims to make a likably subversive and relieving point, the path that it takes to that goal is very chaotic, neurotic, disorderly and overwrought. That is also true of its protagonists (a writer, an extravagant camgirl, an admired actress), who futilely long to find themselves and their inner self-realisation in the false promises of the would-be liberating media, over which they supposedly have emancipatory control, but which at its core is equally binding and objectifying.
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