Tu dors Nicole

Québécoise director Stéphane Lafleur has a knack for finding the magic in everyday sights and sounds. Here, he depicts the inner life of insomniac 22-year-old Nicole (Julianne Côté), who is drifting through the summer while her parents are out of town. Shot in black and white on 35mm film, Lafleur evokes the European art house classics of the 1960s, even if Nicole's suburban environs are more ordinary than exotic. Adopting unusual shots and angles, many common items—such as bikes and streetlamps—wind up appearing alien and strange. Nicole works in a used clothing store, and in her off hours hangs out with a friend, Véronique (Catherine St-Laurent). When Nicole gets her first credit card, she impulsively buys two tickets to Iceland, thinking of her credit line as “free money.” Her listlessness dissipates further after her older brother, Rémi (Marc-André Grondin), returns home unexpectedly to practice with his post-rock trio. Known for being demanding, Rémi has had a hard time keeping a band together, and he worries that the bassist will leave after his girlfriend has their baby. Nicole and Véronique take an interest in new drummer JF (Francis La Haye), who is more confused than flattered by their attentions. Slowly but surely the women's friendship begins to unravel, even as JF tries to remain neutral. Lafleur plays Nicole's self-sabotaging misfortunes more for loopy comedy than judgmental tragedy in this finely-tuned character study. Highly recommended. (K. Fennessy)