Review by michael-1151

The French do lyricism and erotica well, maybe it's the accents or the actors; more likely, the language itself. Mind you, had this been Demi Moore and Julia Roberts frolicking about, I'd have laughed myself silly; as it is, the two female leads - especially Sabrina Seyvecou - successfully show how powerful a currency sex appeal is. It begins as a feminist fable - the two girls thrown together at a strip club, consorting, exhibiting and daring one another to ever greater public displays of pleasurable posturing between hands and genitals -supposedly, in the belief that, with training, Sandrine can get an office job and sleep her way to the top.

Now, had this been tongue in cheek - and I'm not saying whose tongue, in whose cheek - had M Jean-Claude Brisseau, the director, used a lighter or defter touch, the sensual side would have melted our Haagen-Dazs and there could still have been a thought-provoking moral aspect, reflecting the power of, well, the femme fatale.

As it is, the film gets lost towards the end, implying that the playboy office boss is the real manipulator and the girls are mere pawns. The joyous, impish scenes when the two women dare one another to surreptitiously remove their underwear whilst seated in the subway, are long forgotten. Thankfully, Sabrina Seyvecou's natural charms are sufficient to blot out any significant disappointment. She could conquer my office any time.

I think the Haagen-Dazs has left a stain. At least, I think it's the Haagen-Dazs...