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By Merle Bertrand | October 18, 1999

This sounds like something I would pull. Love stricken Alfred (Matthieu Demy) flies from Paris to New York City to track down Alice (Grace Phillips,) an attractive woman he met when she was on vacation in the City of Love. He now finds himself freezing on her doorstep listening to her tell him to get lost. Disappointed but not distraught – he’s sure she’ll eventually come around – Alfred finds work dog sitting for an ominous, filthy rich businessman named Farrakhan. He also sets about finding his luggage which had been lost on the flight over. A string of bad things, some of them not even Alfred’s fault, strike the determined Lothario and soon, right about the time the luggage shows up, he’s either gonna get his girl…or wind up as the unwitting star of a snuff film. This oddball black comedy starts out quickly but slowly sinks in an uncertain, awkwardly executed chronological mire. There was something, either in Benoit Graffin’s direction or in the script by Graffin and David Bock, that kept confusing me as to when everything was happening. How much time passes, for instance, between the moment Alfred accidentally lets the dog out and when Farrakhan’s bitchy, spoiled daughter comes home? How soon after he’s brutalized by the daughter does Alice, apparently won over at last, come looking for him. It could very well have been me just being incredibly dense, but distractions such as these kept taking me out of what was an otherwise sweet, if odd, love story.

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