Opening with a two-minute shot of a car driving along a highway, moving deeper into the Quebec woodlands, Philippe Lesage’s film follows one messy weekend at a secluded cabin where two longtime friends—director Blake (Arieh Worthalter) and screenwriter Albert (Paul Ahmarani)—reunite after years apart. Accompanying Albert are his twenty-something daughter Aliocha (Aurélia Arandi-Longpré), his teenage son Max (Antoine Marchand-Gagnon), and Max’s best friend Jeff (Noah Parker), a budding cinephile enamored with both Blake’s career and Aliocha, on whom he has an unrequited crush.

Blake has invited others to this gathering at his remote cabin—so remote, in fact, that it’s only accessible by seaplane—including his current film editor, Émilie (Sophie Desmarais), and their colleagues, Ferran (Guillaume Laurin) and Barney (Carlo Harrietha). Later, they are joined by Blake’s friends, the French couple Hélène (Irène Jacob) and Eddy (Laurent Lucas). Over the course of two and a half hours, Lesage chronicles this reunion, rife with old grievances and new tensions that frequently surface, often around the dining room table.

As the men spar, the tangled web of their relationships unfolds. At one point, Max tells Jeff that Aliocha is a “sex maniac,” which Jeff interprets as a sign that he might have a chance with her. Gradually, it becomes clear that Jeff is Lesage’s primary focus and anchor. However, the director meanders too much, drifting among his characters without fully exploring their inner lives. Working with ace cinematographer Balthazar Lab, Lesage adopts an almost bemused perspective, letting the camera glide through the gathering, observing one character before shifting its gaze to another. The intricate camerawork within the cabin’s claustrophobic spaces is balanced by expansive outdoor sequences, where the men hunt deer—scenes that either unwittingly mimic or deliberately pay homage to The Deer Hunter in their excessive length and swelling choral music—and the entire group embarks on a canoeing trip through the rapids.

The communal meals become battlegrounds, with Blake mocking Albert’s insecurities and pretensions. Albert, who has named his daughter after a character in The Brothers Karamazov and brought along fancy French wines, becomes the target of a practical joke. Lesage takes his time exploring the dynamics between these men and, by extension, their friends, colleagues, and children. Yet the film ultimately feels less like a complex psychological portrait than a blueprint for one—albeit a beautifully shot and superbly acted one.

There are exhilarating moments. Early on, Albert mentions he is now working on an animated series called Rock Lobster. Lo and behold, while rifling through Blake’s record collection, Aliocha finds the B-52s LP with the song “Rock Lobster” and puts it on the turntable. This sparks a joyous sequence, stretching the entire length of the song. Aliocha and Émilie begin dancing manically before everyone else joins in, culminating in an outdoor conga line of sorts. This moment of pure, unfiltered joy temporarily pushes any animosities aside.

At times, however, Lesage loses his way, devoting an inordinate amount of time to Jeff. After being rebuffed by Aliocha, Jeff storms off and spends the night wandering outside. The film’s most compelling character is actually the smart and confident Aliocha, played by the gifted and winning Arandi-Longpré. Lesage seems to recognize this as well, allowing her to dominate the latter stages of the film. In a cathartic moment following a tragic incident on the river, she sings John Grant’s “Marz,” and later, in a poignant voice-over, recites Emily Dickinson’s poem “They Shut Me Up in Prose,” encapsulating the fractured relationships we have just witnessed in a few devastating lines.