The only character I could identify with in this was the cat - even he seemed disgusted with the proceedings, like he was regretting it as a bad career move. The heroine was an ex-model, and the whole film felt like an endless Lancome commercial.

Transference becomes crazy sexy (but mostly crazy) in François Ozon’s psycho-erotic mindf**k that manages to take 1988s "Dead Ringers" down a twisty path that even Cronenberg would find hard to follow. Obsessed with the idea of duality (darkness and light, love and hate, fantasy and reality) Ozon fills the screen with mirrors and painstakingly symmetrical set designs as a progressively panic-stricken Chloé tries to sort clues from psychosis. And as if her world isn’t topsy-turvy enough the crazy cat lady next door is becoming more sinister each day, the museum where she works is featuring an exhibit of mutated grotesques, and her therapist's elusive behaviour has her convinced that at least one of them is mad. A slick and stylish presentation helps to hide what is essentially a series of silly plot devices followed by a psychologically suspect final twist that is nevertheless satisfying in a daft sort of way. If you follow the clues you can pretty well guess the ending, or you can just sit back and watch it all unravel.

A drawn out erotic psycho drama that is about a young woman's "double" "lover." Cast member Jacqueline Bisset got me to watch this film. Almost gave up and eject, but its final 25 minutes explained what, who and why, making it a worthwhile watch overall, adapted from a Joyce Carol Oates 1987 novel.