This film starts our looking more amateurish than it ends. It's definitely an imitation, but, after it spends its initial thrust emulating a certain historical cinematic style, I realized that it was actually forming a compelling narrative involving Naïma's character (and Phillippe's). I didn't expect to stay interested, or, honestly, even necessarily pay attention to the main story instead of just Zahia's breasts, but I found myself quite invested in the relationship between Naïma and Phillippe, and Naïma's aspirations, by the end.

I really didn't expect them to come right out and take a jab at Zahia's botched facial "enhancements", even if the film is ostensibly centered around her playing herself as a Cannes yacht girl, but they did just that.

Also, holy shit, Frenchies still are fucking smoke stacks. I can't imagine being around an entire table of people ripping draws on cigarettes, two decades into the 21st century. I had to deal with that while living with trashy people (including family) in my teens and twenties, and I absolutely would not tolerate that kind of behavior as an adult. Does no one in France have allergies? It's like going back a century, and not at all in a good way.