Film Review: ‘Two Women’

In the current artistic climate preoccupied by the male gaze, one can sometimes become discouraged when searching for female-lead female-led stories. The obsession with criticizing male filmmakers can often overshadow the woman-headed narratives craved by those same critics. Two Women, a new movie written by French-Canadian screenwriter Catherine Léger, shines through as a brilliant film made by women, for women. Its presence on the screen highlights the importance of female control over women’s narratives, especially those of a sexual nature. 

In Two Women, Karine Gonthier-Hyndman and Laurence Leboeuf portray two women — obviously — who are both searching for something more in their lives. Violette played by Leboeuf, has a newborn baby and, unbeknownst to her, an adulterous husband. Florence played by Gonthier-Hyndman, has recently decided to stop taking antidepressants and struggles with her increasing libido and apathetic boyfriend.

The two neighbours find solace in each other’s frustrations and bond over their mutual dissatisfaction. When Florence has a sudden sexual encounter with a cable guy, she excitedly encourages Violette to follow in her footsteps of non-monogamous experimentation. What follows is a poignant and witty exploration of our relationships with each other and ourselves. The ever-present question that permeates them is: why do we have sex? And who creates the rules surrounding it? 

Gonthier-Hyndman and Leboeuf deliver beautiful performances. They both convey the small nuances of the average woman realizing she has more freedom than she thought from differing but equally touching perspectives. Violette’s timid yet unwavering demeanour is complemented by Florence’s strong, impulsive character. 

Despite romantic and sexual relationships taking up the majority of the run time, the most touching moments are those found in between, soaked in female friendship. The strong performances are enhanced by Léger’s sharp and witty script. The dialogue manages to be genuine and believable while also maintaining an entertaining and slightly absurd edge. The offbeat comedy and deadpan delivery serves to communicate and complement the deeper issues of the characters. Both women convey a heartfelt and genuine performance wrapped in the complexities and comedy of female self-discovery. 

The compelling performances and shrewd script are further enhanced by the keen eye of Chloé Robichaud, the Québecois director. The bright, purposeful cinematography is almost Wes Anderson-esque, although it lacks his symmetry. The colour palette invokes a constant sense of warmth and security, which is juxtaposed by the growing instability of the women’s lives. The camera follows Violette and Florence through very close-quarters, giving the feeling of an intimate look into their otherwise private domain. The bright colours and compelling visuals invite the audience into the lives of these two women. This reminds them that we are often unaware of what happens behind closed doors. 

What really brings Two Women together is the strong female perspective from which it is told. Violette and Florence are not sexualised for the sake of the viewer, but for the sake of their own autonomy and exploration. The act of having sex is integral to their growth, and shifts their perception of the world which they thought they knew. By treating sex as more than just a vehicle for entertainment, the film defines it as a freeing and condemning act, depending on the context. It understands that sex is more than just pleasure, and in Violette and Florence’s case, can redefine an entire worldview. By expanding on the action of sex, Two Women shifts the narrative from the male gaze to the empowerment and exploration of women and the infrequently discussed lives they lead.