Somewhere in Paris, a young woman wakes up on a bench with no idea who she is. Gradually putting the pieces back together, she discovers an identity that is mediocre at best, even downright detestable, and decides to become someone else. It is on this fascinating starting point, formulating at least two essential questions (what is identity if not a story that we tell ourselves? If we had the choice, would we be the same anyone?), what rests the blank pagea film adapted from the comic book of the same name by Penelope Bagieu et Cannonball released just ten years ago. For his first feature (following the TV movie Me, fat), Murielle Magellan draws from it a romantic comedy painted with a roller, monolayer paint, beige-taupe color, located in a vintage Paris, empty and friendly, barely more credible than that of l’Emily the Netflix. A kind of Amélie Poulain from the age of iCloud updates weighed down by dull humor and characters that are either perfectly transparent (the nice computer repairman who one would think calculated by an artificial intelligence) or totally infernal (the two employees of Gibert who sing, a producer-influencer interpreted by… Stéphane Guillon). There remains Sara Giraudeau, impeccable in the main role, who easily juggles between candor and strangeness and manages, sometimes, on her own, to pull the whole thing up.
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