Instants

The scouts

Two kids want to leave the city—congratulations, you've described every coming-of-age film since the invention of suburbs. Unless there's something genuinely perverse about how they're framing this escape, this reads like the kind of sincere teenage reverie that puts me to sleep.

The contemplative register here situates itself within a quiet lineage of pastoral cinema, and the formal restraint of a two-minute runtime suggests a sensibility attuned to economy and deliberation—though at this length, the question becomes whether the film earns its formal precision or simply performs it.

Two minutes is brutal, but if Poughon and Antignac are pulling off tenderness in that frame, it's almost certainly one specific formal choice—whether that's a held shot, a sound bridge, or a performance micro-expression—that transforms what could be rote yearning into something that actually lands.