Outsmarted by Their Own Scheme

Read Time:5 Minute, 45 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
The French Italian
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Genre: Comedy
Year Released: 2025
Runtime: 1h 32m
Director(s): Rachel Wolther
Writer(s): Rachel Wolther
Cast: Catherine Cohen, Aristotle Athari, Chloe Cherry, Ruby McCollister, Jon Rudnitsky, Ikechukwu Ufomadu
Where to Watch: opened in New York at the Quad Cinema on October 3, 2025 & in Los Angeles at the Laemmle Royal, Glendale, Town Center, and Noho on October 10, and available on VOD on October 28

RAVING REVIEW: Some films capture the pulse of New York; others catch its indescribable core. THE FRENCH ITALIAN exists somewhere in between—an offbeat comedy of errors about artistic delusion, noisy neighbors, and the complicated way self-importance masquerades as creativity. It’s as funny as it is uncomfortable, not because of how it’s written, but because it's not afraid to shine a light on the satirical elements within the production.

Director Rachel Wolther’s feature is an ambitious portrait of urban anxiety and artistic desperation. At its best, it feels like an improv session caught on film, filled with sharp humor and moments of startling self-awareness. At its worst, it’s like eavesdropping on a rehearsal of an off, off-off-Broadway production. That’s not a bad thing; it’s impressive to see how delicate the world feels through this story.

Catherine Cohen and Aristotle Athari lead as Valerie and Doug, a thirty-something couple who embody the quintessential creative burnout of New York living. They’re pretentious but relatable, the kind of people who see themselves as victims of everyone else’s chaos. Their constant annoyance with their younger, wilder neighbors forms the backbone of the film—a battle of generations and egos set in the world’s tiniest apartment complex.

The premise feels timeless: the thin wall between tolerance and obsession, and how resentment can curdle into something more profound, like performance art. The couple’s irritation turns to fixation, and fixation turns to revenge. What begins as a squabble morphs into an absurd theater production designed to humiliate the neighbors. It’s an inspired setup for comedy, one that echoes the self-indulgent energy of 70s New York satire but filtered through the lens of modern millennial exhaustion.

Cohen and Athari bring chemistry and timing to their roles—she’s all anxious control, he’s understated sarcasm. But the film’s most fascinating, and perhaps most divisive element, comes in the form of Chloe Cherry’s performance as Mary—the aspiring actress at the center of the couple’s revenge plot. Cherry’s presence is so tonally bizarre that it almost derails the film. Her acting feels intentionally off, stilted in measure, and exaggerated in delivery. Yet it’s difficult to tell whether this awkwardness is a deliberate choice or simply a misfire.

There’s an argument to be made that Cherry’s performance fits the film’s meta-textual point: she’s an actress playing an actress who doesn’t realize she’s being played. What’s meant to expose the absurdity of performance culture instead reads like a glitch in humanity. Every time she enters a scene, the film changes. She feels like a character imported from an entirely different movie—one that doesn’t quite share the same wavelength. I struggled with this, but the more I sat with it, the more I think it’s superb casting!

When THE FRENCH ITALIAN clicks, it’s genuinely sharp. The film’s sense of place—the claustrophobic apartments, the faint hum of city noise, the hollow confidence of self-proclaimed creatives—is spot on. There’s a lived-in quality to the way these characters rationalize their failures. Valerie and Doug’s decision to turn their grievance into a theatrical act of revenge feels both unhinged and completely believable in a world where everyone thinks they’re a main character.

Ruby McCollister’s supporting turn as Wendy, the friend who encourages their descent into chaos, adds a welcome dose of energy. She bridges the gap between satire and sincerity, embodying that friend we’ve all known who mistakes manipulation for motivation. McCollister understands the tone the film is reaching for—heightened, self-aware, and just short of reality.

Visually, Wolther and cinematographer Jesse Millward keep things clean and grounded, using the cramped urban interiors to build tension rather than relying on visual flair. The camera rarely moves quickly, allowing the humor and awkwardness to unfold in real time. It’s the sort of slow-burn discomfort you might associate with CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM or THE OFFICE.

Wolther clearly has a sharp eye for the contradictions of modern city life—people desperate to be noticed but terrified of being seen. There’s real intelligence behind the chaos, even when it doesn’t all come together. The film is less a traditional comedy and more a character study of people who think they’re starring in one. The film succeeds as a mood piece rather than a comedy. It captures the messiness of creative life, the self-delusion of artists, and the fragility of relationships stretched thin by ego. THE FRENCH ITALIAN is clever, yes, but it’s also clumsy—a love letter to pretentiousness that occasionally forgets when to wink. It’s a film that’s easy to admire, even in its uneven moments; it feels honest to the chaos it portrays. The theater may be fake, but the neuroses are all too real.

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[photo courtesy of LEVEL 33 ENTERTAINMENT, MIRMADE PRODUCTIONS, SAVAGE ROSE FILMS, SLACK TIDE PICTURES]

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