Regardez-moi

The scouts

A two-minute riff on Instagram aesthetics could've been toothless commentary, but Faidherbe commits to the absurdism—watching Julie's spiral into performative self-documentation becomes genuinely unhinged, which is exactly when it stops being obvious.

The film operates in a lineage of deadpan social satire, though its brevity feels more like a sketch than a considered argument; the editing rhythms are tight, but the premise doesn't quite deepen into the formal complexity that would anchor it as a statement.

The decision to lock the camera and let Julie's physical desperation—the contortions, the repetitions—become the entire visual language is what transforms a thin concept into something you feel in your chest; it's all performance, and that restraint is everything.