Three great solitudes are currently intersecting in cinema: one in the streets of Paris, the other two in those of Tokyo. But whether they come from Japan or France (or even both, as is the case with the first feature film in our selection, a Franco-Japanese co-production), the films that tell their stories are each time rich in tenderness and hope. 

Renoir by Chie Hayakawa

The second feature film by Japanese director Chie Hayakawa (after (inside Solna Centrum) (in 2022) doesn't seem to have much connection to the eponymous French filmmaker, or his father, the great Impressionist painter. Except perhaps for a portrait of a young girl by Pierre-Auguste Renoir that appears midway through the film, and which the main character, 11-year-old Fuki, believes she resembles. Fuki is a lively girl, despite a mother on the verge of collapse. burnout and a seriously ill father. Renoir The film takes place in Tokyo in 1987, the year the director was the same age as her protagonist. It's therefore difficult not to think it's an autobiographical story. In reality, the film, bathed in a soft yet vibrant light and boasting excellent direction (particularly regarding the sets and costumes), isn't really a narrative, but rather a fragmented assemblage of life's moments, like childhood memories. Sublimated by the sensitive, touching, and funny performance of the young lead actress (Yui Suzuki), these fragments of life, taken separately, are merely points of light. But seen together, they compose a magnificent portrait, deeper than it initially appears, of a young girl quite alone in the face of adult problems. Like a painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.  

Nino by Pauline Loquès

In 1962 in Cleo from 5 to 7Agnès Varda followed a young woman in Paris from 17 p.m. to 19 p.m. as she awaited the results of medical tests that would tell her if she had cancer. Pauline Loquès uses a similar approach with Ninoand invites the viewer to follow a young man in Paris in 2025. Nino has just been diagnosed with cancer. He has three days before starting his treatment; three days to try to admit the unthinkable to himself, and then to others: cancer, at 30. One might think that Pauline Loquès' film is depressing, but it's quite the opposite: gentle, and often even funny. It must be said that the subtle writing is complemented by a superb cast: the all-too-rare Salomé Dewaels, the hilarious and moving William Lebghil, and even Jeanne Balibar in the role of a slightly eccentric mother. While all the roles, even the smallest, are impeccably written and performed, the revelation of Pauline Loquès' film remains Théodore Pellerin, who plays the title role. We had already seen the Quebec actor as Jacques de Bascher in the series Becoming Karl Lagerfeld, or in the very beautiful Genesis by Philippe Lesage. But in NinoHe is endearing in his awkwardness and restraint. In 1962, Agnès Varda offered an extremely contemporary perspective on the female experience of the 1960s, embodied by a great actress (Corinne Marchand). More than sixty years later, Pauline Loquès recounts, with rare acuity and the help of a wonderfully gifted actor, what it means to be a young man in Paris in 2025. 

Egoist by Daishi Matsunaga

As a child, Kōsuke lost his mother. A traumatic experience at the heart of a difficult youth from which he never recovered. Since then, the young man has built a protective shell around himself. Like many former children who were bullied at school, his armor is his outward appearance: he takes care of his body, his face, his haircut, and always wears designer clothes. All these are outward signs of wealth. Because Kōsuke has succeeded: an editor at a fashion magazine, he earns a very good living and owns a large apartment in Tokyo. But he is alone. He has always hidden his homosexuality from his father, and while he lives openly with his group of friends, Japanese society, where same-sex love remains a major taboo, prevents him from experiencing coupledom, even though he longs for it, even if he doesn't necessarily admit it to himself. He feels more than just attraction for his personal trainer; and the feeling is mutual. But fate is cruel. Despite some uneven direction, Egoist is a film that is as necessary – even today, few films address homosexuality in Japan – as it is tender and moving, especially in its second part where an unexpected new person comes to take the place left empty in Kōsuke's heart.