Tiff Romania 2025: Bold Visions and Beautiful Nightmares
Paul & Paulette Take a Bath
Jethro Massey’s first feature serves cute clichés with a morbid edge
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Some headlines describe Jethro Massey’s macabre feature debut as “a quirky love story,” and while that’s not wrong, it is only part of the story, arguably the less significant one.
At a glance, said story perfectly fits the mold and every sappy romance cliché. Two young people who fall in love. They’re conventionally attractive, white, middle-class, and straight (she claims in front of her parents she is lesbian, “or bi, if you feel better with it,” but since her female lover is never seen and all her sex life is straight, labeling such a character as queer is cowardly fake diversity).
He is American (Jeremie Galiana), she is French (Marie Benati).
However, theirs is not the only affair. Massey’s comedy also has its own filmic flirtation with psychopathological perversion. What gets Paul and Paulette really off is sex in places connected to unnatural death, especially murder, massacre, and execution.
Their meet-cute happens as photographer Paul sees Paulette completely in awe at the exact spot where Marie Antoinette was beheaded. She asked him to help her reenact the moments before the former queen’s death. Soon, he accompanies Paulette on her tours to infamous locations where they get enamored.
The two rules she dictates to him—never ask about her parents, never touch—are soon forgotten in the passion of their dark drive.
Undeniably intriguing and inventive, this kind of proxy-necrophilia is both the strongest and weakest aspect of Massey’s plot.
It never becomes clear if Paul genuinely shares Paulette’s erotic thrill, if he is aroused by the idea of her infatuation with death, or if he is simply aroused by her and organizes crime-historical dates like other partners arrange a romantic dinner.
But there are several signs that he has at the very least an equal taste for gruesome historical references. He has an unspecific thing going with his former crush and now boss, Valerie (Laurence Vaissiere), whom his colleagues call “Goebbels”. That’s the first of many Nazi jokes.
They are so hapless that they don’t even come across as arbitrary provocation.
A whole episode about Paul inviting Paulette into Hitler’s alleged Munich apartment (it doesn’t take a historian to recognize Paul’s ruse) is basically an extended Nazi joke, stuffed with little Nazi jokes. Like the two protagonists calling each other “Eva” and “Adolf”.
Paulette’s suggestion to gender-switch the names leads to uncomfortably transphobic territory.
Anyway, “Eva” and “Adolf” aren’t much worse than the characters’ actual names. According to Paulette’s father, they sound as if they were siblings. His comment underlines that Paul and Paulette are kindred souls while uncovering a new facet of their erotic spleen.
What turns them on is the taboo or the idea thereof. Their elaborate role play as murderer and victim gets constantly darker while the mood slowly shifts to a more serious tone.
It’s clear that this tale of murderous obsession can have just one satisfying ending. But as this seems about to arrive, both Paul and Massey inexplicably lose their nerve. The underlying question is about the occupation with death as a form of resistance against pressure to social conformity.
Even less does Massey dare to question sexual taboos like necrophilia or intimate sibling relationships.
Despite all his own toying with thanatophilia and taboo, Massey ultimately settles for conformity.
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