Round and round go the randomly colliding dodgems, as waif with a past Gainsbourg haunts a fairground, dogged by Nemesis figure Bashung and watched over by lovelorn Torreton, the evidently disaster-bound hero. The unpredictable Leconte here harks back to Prévert-style poetic realism, with these tales of happiness frustrated, malaise-stricken lovers and a penchant for corny metaphors. Or so it seems - until he pulls a post-modern switcheroo which will delight some and irritate others. But if the nature of the movie is subject to variation, a superlatively played final scene reassures us that we are watching a love story after all. It would be diverting to see how the highly sympathetic Gainsbourg-Torreton combo fared with more mainstream material.