Set in France circa 70s, Vanessa (Angelina Jolie) is a former dancer on holiday with her husband, Roland (Brad Pitt) a ‘failed’ American writer. How can he fail if he doesn’t even write?   They’re growing apart.  And we’re growing further away from them since their problems don’t interest us.  Vanessa spends all day on a lounge chair, only venturing into town for a few groceries. What a life!  And Roland spends all day at a  pub with the vibrant locals speaking French. 

For entertainment, Vanessa and Roland play voyeuristic games watching the couple in the next room – through a peep hole – bathing (Degas style) and making love.

Shot in pure ivory and white, Pitt vanishes in every scene where Jolie stands out.  She’s like Brigitte Bardot-featured, and flawless, to such a point of perfection that little narration is needed.  We can just look at her.  That’s all.  Just look at her.

Jolie is also behind the camera as the movie’s director with every scene like something out of Italian Vogue (even though they’re supposedly in France.) The film feels like our own voyeuristic experience since the public makes assumptions what these celebrity marriages are like behind closed doors.  Truth is, it’s almost as if Jolie deliberately made a movie about a failed marriage to show that the Jolie-Pitt union can have problems, too.  And if you wonder why a critic might think that, it’s the only reason that one could come up with as to why this film was even made in the first place.