![‘Two Women’ Review: Libidinous Québécois Romp Pokes Fun At Monogamy [Sundance]](https://cdn.theplaylist.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/27141811/Two_Women-Sundance.jpg "‘Two Women’ Review: Libidinous Québécois Romp Pokes Fun At Monogamy [Sundance]")
It’s no secret that Francophone cinema tends to have a more liberal view of sex, but even in that milieu, the writer Catherine Léger stands out. Her films “Slut in a Good Way” and “Babysitter” (directed by Sophie Lorain and Monia Chokri, respectively) are both festival darlings that tackle the intricacies of female sexuality from multiple angles. Now her latest, the Sundance competitor “Two Women” directed by Chloé Robichaud (“Sarah Prefers to Run,” “Days of Happiness”), centers on a pair of heroines chafing against motherhood and long-term monogamy.
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The film, adapted from Léger’s play of the same name — itself an adaptation of the 1970 cult film “Deux Femmes en Or” by Claude Fournier and Marie-Josee Raymond — starts with a mystery. New mother Violette (Laurence Leboeuf) is unsure if the noise she keeps hearing from her bedroom is a crow’s caw or an exhibitionistic woman’s moans of ecstasy. It can’t be her — Violette’s physical relationship with her husband, Benoit (Félix Moati), has dwindled to nothing following the birth of their first daughter. She interrogates her neighbor, Florence (Karine Gonthier-Hyndman), only for Florence to reveal that she and her partner, David (Mani Soleymanlou), haven’t had sex in at least a year. Both women cope with their unfulfilling love lives by tricking horny handymen into their condos, embarking on paths of self-discovery and self-destruction.
“Two Women” straddles reality and make-believe, occasionally wobbling as it tries to keep its balance. Violette and Florence’s dalliances with hired men are pure fantasy — imagine the “plumber comes over to fix a lonely woman’s pipes” porn fantasy but with women behind the camera. The nameless men who service our protagonists are essentially interchangeable dildos. They have no compunctions about screwing around on the job, and they want Violette and Florence unquestioningly. (The one guy who second-guesses his role gets kicked to the curb.) This section makes for liberating viewing: If you’re in the market for sex scenes that center on female pleasure, look no further. In Florence’s first dalliance, she dry-humps her cable guy until she orgasms. After, he remarks, “I didn’t even do anything.”
The rest of the film — where this gooey, delicious fantasy world gives way to more realistic material — is less graceful. Violette and Florence are outright cheating on their partners, and while these indiscretions are fairly easy to swallow — since their partners are also feckless liars — they’re never entirely resolved. Narrative asides about antidepressants, alcoholism, and the ins and outs of living in an eco-friendly co-op crowd out more salient points about motherhood and gender roles. Leboeuf and Gonthier-Hyndman are superb but could be given more emotional room to play. It’s hard to invest in these women’s relationships with their children, for instance, when those children are frequently shunted off-screen to make more time for adult shenanigans.
Such sprawl is a signature Léger foible — “Babysitter,” which premiered at Sundance 2022, likewise dealt more in musings than concrete ideas. But as in that film, Léger and her director present a candy-colored, female-driven world that’s too bold to be quickly forgotten. Cinematographer Sara Mishara (“My Salinger Year”) shoots “Two Women” in sumptuous 35mm, evoking its 1970 predecessor. Production designer Louisa Schabas (“Flatliners”) plasters the condos with bright wallpaper, plants, and tchotchkes, making the spaces feel very lived-in — even if it’s unbelievable that a new mother could sustain so many orchids.
“Two Women” is a titillating, vibrant send-up of societal expectations that goes down easy despite its brashness. (See: Violette’s farcical misinterpretation of the #MeToo hashtag.) It’s strongest when leaning hard into hedonism, but even a distracted narrative can’t bring this frothy flick down. Pairs well with chocolate, rosé, and Esther Perel’s “Mating in Captivity.” [B]
