Slow-burn French thriller Endless Summer Syndrome begins on a Monday with a police interrogation, indicating that a terrible event has taken place—though Iranian-Czech filmmaker Kaveh Daneshmand, in his directorial debut, takes his time revealing the incident and the circumstances that brought the family under police scrutiny.
Daneshmand then rewinds to Friday, introducing a white, middle-aged couple—a respected attorney and a successful novelist—at their well-appointed summer home in Corrèze, complete with a pool (cinematographer Cedric Larvoire shows everyone—and everything—to their best advantage). It seems like an idyllic life, as each family member, including adopted children Adia (Frédérika Milano) and Aslan (Gem Deger, also the film’s cowriter and producer), sips mojitos in the sun (with alcohol only for those of legal age).
Aslan, who is of Turkish descent, has been preparing for a study-abroad session, while Adia, who is Black, plans a night out with a local friend. The girl sunbathes topless while the boy smokes a joint, subtly establishing that these are fairly liberal parents.
The mood begins to darken when Delphine (a magnetic Sophie Colon) receives an anonymous call from a woman—possibly a fellow writer—about an anguished confession Antoine (Mathéo Capelli) made while drunk. The confession references one of their children, and though Adia and Aslan are not their biological offspring, a sexual relationship with either would be deeply inappropriate. It may not even be true, but Delphine is rattled. Instead of confronting Antoine directly, she turns detective, quietly sifting through the clues.
As Delphine observes, asks questions, and furtively rifles through her family’s belongings, she’s unable to tell if Antoine was referring to their daughter or their son. Either possibility is unthinkable, and yet she can no longer dismiss the potential cracks in their nearly two-decade marriage.
When all else fails, Delphine resorts to surveillance to uncover the truth. By Saturday, she believes she has figured it out. Meanwhile, Aslan, who had planned to travel to New York to study entomology, suddenly decides not to go. Earlier, he asked Adia to look after his insects and mollusks, cautioning her that one of them is poisonous. It’s what some might call the film’s Chekhov’s Gun—an early detail destined to play a crucial role by the end.
Once the truth is revealed, all hell breaks loose, and the seemingly idyllic family is left shattered. Throughout the film, Daneshmand cuts back to the police interrogation, as each family member is questioned—except for one.
Endless Summer Syndrome recalls the work of Claude Chabrol and François Ozon as Daneshmand merges psychological thriller and domestic drama, infusing the film with a destabilizing erotic charge. The ensemble cast is uniformly strong, particularly Sophie Colon, who anchors the film with remarkable presence. Surprisingly, most of the actors—aside from French TV regular Mathéo Capelli—have little prior on-screen experience. Daneshmand’s assured direction marks him as a filmmaker to watch. His beautifully crafted debut avoids heavy-handed moralizing while addressing a taboo subject with sensitivity and compassion.
What kind of film collection would this title be suitable for?
Endless Summer Syndrome would make an excellent addition to International, LGBTQ, and Drama collections in both academic and public libraries. Its mix of psychological intensity and subtle social critique also makes it ideal for curated collections focused on contemporary French cinema, family dysfunction, or slow-burn thrillers. Libraries serving patrons with an interest in European film, art-house storytelling, or boundary-pushing themes will find it a particularly worthwhile acquisition.
What kind of film series would this narrative fit in?
A film series on 21st-century French cinema would be an ideal home for Endless Summer Syndrome, especially when paired with the works of directors like François Ozon, Catherine Breillat, or Claire Denis. It would also complement programming on taboo in European film, domestic thrillers, or coming-of-age tensions within family structures. For academic institutions, the film could enrich series exploring how European filmmakers represent family, race, adoption, or moral ambiguity.