Batshit insane cuticle cutter (Catherine Deneuve, blonde and gorgeous) is left alone for a few days, where her fear of woman-hating male rapists plagues her every waking moment (it doesn't help that every man in Polanski's world is a woman-hater). Trivial and one-dimensional, it's more about technique than genuine psychological investigation - Deneuve stares into the abyss like a mental patient (which is where she should be: an asylum), while Polanski's free-from-the-tripod camera presses itself against her face (the jazz score and wobbly cinematography killed any possible suspense for me). Deneuve's problems with hands coming out of the wall, pervy landlords and daily work in a spa/salon are nothing when compared to her problems with the English language.
Director: Roman Polanski
Year Released: 1965