The film’s captivating quality lies in its unconventional perspective on the Olympic experience, not from the usual vantage point of the athletes, but rather through the eyes of the audience, and more specifically, one woman. This shift in focus, combined with the complexity of Blandine’s character (who leaves us wondering whether she is shy, socially awkward, or simply enamoured with her own solitude), gives the film its emotional depth.

That said, considering the film was shot amidst the Parisian Olympic atmosphere, it occasionally feels as though the potential of such a unique setting is underutilised. The inclusion of archival footage, for instance, is handled too simplistically, often shown via smartphones, which results in underwhelming visuals where a more experimental and distinctive editing approach could have elevated the material.

This shortcoming is accompanied by the disappointing treatment of a crucial and highly relevant topic: the contradictions inherent in hosting an event of such magnitude, and the negative impact it can have on local citizens and communities. The film addresses this in a rather superficial and frivolous manner. Frankly, presenting it so lightly does the subject a disservice. It would have been better left out entirely than handled with so little care, as it deserves far more thoughtful attention.

Slow to start, this film doesn’t truly take off until it reaches its core, when the protagonist begins working in the BDSM world. While the first act serves its purpose in showing how the titular character, Kika (Manon Clavel), enters this environment, it’s not until the second act that the narrative gains momentum, ultimately building to a powerful, cathartic climax.

One element that genuinely elevates the film is its set design, particularly the red-light district-style rooms and buildings where Kika conducts her work, the space used by one of her fellow sex workers, even the middle-class flats she inhabits throughout the film, and the upper-class apartment that she gets to visit for work.

This visual richness compensates somewhat for the film’s shortcomings as a social study of BDSM culture. While topics such as prostitution, client relationships, and sexual practices are touched upon and the messaging is informative, the treatment feels clinical and lacks psychological depth.

This limitation is further highlighted by the underdeveloped portrayal of Kika’s interpersonal relationships, not only with clients, but also with her colleagues and family. The film positions itself as a character study framed by social commentary on sex work, yet with so many characters interacting with the protagonist, one would expect these exchanges to shine brighter both on screen and in meaning.

Fear, language, bullying, education style. These four elements form the Molotov cocktail of Palkó’s (Paul Mátis) turbulent life at his new school in Hungary.

Recently arrived from Germany, where his parents had emigrated years earlier from the Magyar homeland, Palkó initially struggles with the language, the stricter educational style, and the fear of isolation due to being different. These challenges are temporarily eased by “the power of friendship” and the support of a caring teacher, Juci (Anna Mészöly), who disagrees with her colleagues’ pedagogical approach. Unfortunately, the dream soon turns into a nightmare when an innocent joke is used to reprimand the boy, alienate his friends, and trigger bullying behaviour, even from members of the teaching staff.

This type of film demands that two elements be strong enough to carry its weight: the acting and the writing. Fortunately, both exceed expectations. The performances from the entire cast, young and adult alike, are outstanding, and the script offers a (slightly uneven but) incisive look at the dynamics between and within the various groups that make up a school: students, teachers, government officials, and parents.

One of the film’s highlights is how, despite its serious subject matter, writer-director Bálint Szimler skilfully weaves in a side plot involving the repair of a window. While well integrated into the overall narrative, this subplot stands out for its more comedic tone, offering welcome relief from the film’s otherwise dramatic atmosphere.