Cannibalism, But Make It Boring
If you’ve ever thought to yourself, “You know what erotic horror needs? More nap-inducing scenes of Vincent Gallo brooding in a hotel room”, then congratulations—Claire Denis made a movie just for you. Trouble Every Day is marketed as part of the “New French Extremity” movement, which usually means violence, sex, and an art-film sense of self-importance. But here, it mostly means watching Béatrice Dalle gnaw on people like a starving dog while Tindersticks provide the world’s dreariest funeral soundtrack.
The Cannes Film Festival famously booed this one off the screen, and honestly, I’ve seen kinder reactions to airline food.
The Honeymoon from Hell
We start with Shane (Vincent Gallo) and his wife June (Tricia Vessey), newly married and allegedly on their honeymoon in Paris. Most couples in Paris would be sipping wine, holding hands by the Seine, or at least pretending to enjoy each other’s company. Instead, Shane spends the whole trip stalking an old colleague while ignoring his wife so completely that even the Eiffel Tower looks like it feels bad for her.
Poor June. She thinks she married a brilliant scientist, but instead she got Vincent Gallo scowling at walls, jerking off in the middle of sex, and eventually adopting a puppy like some twisted apology bouquet. “Sorry I can’t consummate our marriage, honey. Here’s a dog I’ll probably forget to feed.”
Béatrice Dalle: Man-Eater, Literally
Enter Coré (Béatrice Dalle), the true star of the movie. Locked away by her husband Léo like some rabid vampire, Coré escapes now and then to seduce men and devour them mid-coitus. It’s messy, bloody, and easily the most interesting thing in the film—though let’s be honest, watching Béatrice Dalle read a grocery list would be scarier than most horror movies.
But instead of embracing the chaos of a cannibal femme fatale, Denis insists on long, languid shots of Coré staring out windows or wandering aimlessly in her bloody nightgown. She’s like a Hannibal Lecter who keeps forgetting her lines.
Science, Schmience
The backstory is mumbled at best. Something about experimental neuroscience, diseases of desire, and how playing God has consequences. But the movie doesn’t really care about the science—it’s too busy showing Gallo wandering Paris like he lost his tour group. We’re meant to piece together that Shane might also be infected with the same cannibalistic urges as Coré, which explains his escalating creep factor. But the film plays coy with this reveal, as if anyone in the audience wasn’t already screaming, “Yes, he’s going to bite someone, just get on with it!”
Scenes That Go Nowhere
Claire Denis has never been accused of making straightforward cinema, but Trouble Every Day elevates narrative stalling to an Olympic sport. Nearly every scene could be cut in half—or cut entirely—and you’d still understand the “plot,” such as it is.
Highlights of nothing happening:
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Gallo staring at hotel wallpaper like it insulted his mother.
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Long drives where no one speaks, because apparently cannibals hate small talk.
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A maid changing sheets with more screen time than the actual murder scenes.
It’s all meant to create “atmosphere,” but the atmosphere here feels less like Gothic horror and more like waiting in line at the DMV.
Puppy Love Gone Wrong
One of the film’s strangest detours involves Shane adopting a puppy, which is played as a tender moment. Except by then we know he’s a sexual predator with a taste for human flesh. The juxtaposition is supposed to unsettle us. Instead, it just makes you fear for the dog. If there’s one thing audiences won’t forgive, it’s the hint that a puppy might get dragged into Vincent Gallo’s libido issues.
Tindersticks: Funeral Music for the Living
A word about the soundtrack. Tindersticks provide a mournful score that sounds like a funeral dirge for someone you didn’t really know that well. It drones. It whines. It makes even the sex-murder scenes feel like they’re happening underwater. I’ve heard more energetic music in a dentist’s waiting room.
By the third act, I started fantasizing about someone turning on a radio just so I could hear literally anything else. Even French talk radio. Even Celine Dion.
That Infamous Ending
And then, after an hour and a half of slow burns and half-reveals, the film decides it’s finally time for Vincent Gallo to show his true colors. He stalks a maid he’s been ogling all movie, brutally rapes her, and then bites her to death. It’s grotesque, shocking, and exactly what the rest of the movie should have been building toward. Instead, it feels like a different director walked in, slapped Claire Denis out of her trance, and yelled, “Remember this is supposed to be horror!”
Then, just as quickly, it’s over. Shane showers, wipes off the blood, and goes back to his wife like it’s no big deal. No fallout. No reckoning. Just another day in Paris with Vincent Gallo being Vincent Gallo.
The Cannes Walkouts: Understandable Cardio
When Trouble Every Day premiered at Cannes, people booed, jeered, and walked out in droves. Normally, I’d say that’s harsh. But after watching the film, I think they just realized they could either suffer through another hour of Gallo mumbling or enjoy some wine on the French Riviera. Honestly, the choice was easy.
Eroticism? Horror? Nope.
The movie is marketed as “erotic horror,” but let’s be clear: there’s nothing erotic about watching Vincent Gallo awkwardly paw at women before gnawing on their faces. And the horror? It exists, but only in brief bursts—sandwiched between long stretches of cinematic NyQuil. Imagine if Dracula were remade by IKEA: sleek, minimal, and soul-crushingly dull.
Final Thoughts: Trouble Staying Awake
Trouble Every Day wants to be an art-house masterpiece about the dangers of desire, repression, and science gone wrong. What it actually is: two hours of listless pacing, Vincent Gallo acting like he’s allergic to charisma, and Béatrice Dalle doing her best to salvage a movie that keeps sedating itself.
Yes, there’s blood. Yes, there’s sex. But the combination here is less “provocative” and more “accidentally walked into the wrong Cinemax channel at 3 a.m.” The controversy wasn’t because the film was shocking—it was because audiences couldn’t believe they’d wasted good wine money on this snooze-fest.
