You & Me, the cheerfully self-assured second feature from French director Julie Lopes-Curval, is the story of two sisters, both of them looking for love. Ariane (Julie Depardieu - yes, she’s Gerard’s kid), the oldest, is a hopeless romantic willfully entangled with a man whose lack of long-term interest in her couldn’t be more clear. Her sister Lena (well-played by the soulful Marion Cotillard) is a respected cellist who lives with her bland, good-hearted boyfriend, and approaches life with a deep seriousness. Ariane uses their collective romantic struggles as inspiration for the candy-colored, comically romantic photo-novellas she writes and, as Lopes-Curval’s film progresses, Ariane’s work and real life overlap with increasing regularity.

On tour with her orchestra when the movie opens, Lena immediately seems unhappy, and disconnected from her own life. She does her job and returns to her hotel room to sleep, perhaps practice, and wait until the next day’s performance. She is jarred out of her routine, however, by the presence of Mark (played with Colin Firth-esque, scruffy charm by Jonathan Zaccaï), a cocky soloist whose confidence and attention Lena find irresistible. When he takes her to see a risque photography exhibit and talks about sexual positions during what is virtually their first meaningful interaction, she is inexplicable charmed, and they share an impulsive kiss when she drops him at the airport.

Needless to say - it is, after all, that sort of movie - Mark’s mere existence shakes up Lena’s life. An idle compliment causes her to become completely devoted to her music, and she begins to question her relationship with her boring but sincere boyfriend who, conveniently, is being driven away by her silence. When Mark sweeps into town and they have a brief affair (brief because he leaves for a long-term job in Tokyo shortly after his arrival), things only get worse. Eventually, Lena finds herself alone, jobless, and sleeping on her mother’s couch.

Her sister, meanwhile, pursues her relationship with the rakishly handsome Farid (Tomer Sisley) with the same approach she brings to her work: In the photonovellas, every man is wealthy and devoted to the woman who loves him, just as, in her mind, Farid is to her. While he takes an obvious and undeniable joy in his moments with Ariane, Farid is so elusive the existence of a wife wouldn’t be a surprise, and he is clearly not interested in settling down. Nevertheless, Ariane is so addicted to the idea of romance and the perfect man that she is unable to pry herself away. Because of her hopeless obsession with Farid, she first ignores and then rebuffs the advances of the smitten mason (Pablo, played by Sergio Peris-Mencheta) who is working on her building, and represents the chance at the true romance to which everyone in her photonovellas aspires. When, at long last he finally appears in her work, it’s not hard to guess that real life will eventually follow suit.

Much of the lightness of You & Me stems from the periodic intrusions of Ariane’s work, which comes to life on screen in fanciful, candy-color vignettes. Her “characters” are represented by their real-life inspirations, so Farid becomes a dapper airline pilot, and Mark a mysterious doctor. Ariane and Lena appear as well, of course, always on the receiving end of heartsick proclamations of devotion. The problem, however, is that these same magical sequences are also the source of the film’s biggest problem, a problem so big it ultimately overpowers the film.

Because the fantasy sequences effectively mock (in a gentle way - everything about Lopes-Curval’s film is gentle) the idea of perfect romance and the outdated assumption that women are only truly whole in the arms of men, they also point out the absurdity of the film around them, and make it hard to swallow the insecurities and neediness of its characters. For example, in another romantic comedy, a woman calling herself “a grotty old hag” because she’s single and unmarried might be funny, if only because the genre makes it clear that she will, in the end find happiness. When this sort of attitude is displayed in a film that is simultaneously calling it absurd, however, it is off-putting at best, and pathetic at worst. No matter which attitude one perfects - the romance or the cynicism - half of the film is constantly discrediting the other half.

As a result of this uncomfortable duality, it’s awfully hard to be happy for Ariane when, at the film’s end, she finds the happiness that has been staring her - and us - in the face. Instead, we’re repulsed by her inability to stand on her own, and let down by the film’s unwillingness to see its initial cynicism through. If You & Me didn’t have the photonovella sequences, it would be a light, pleasant romantic comedy. Those sequences, however, lead the audience to expect more, and when the movie ultimately decides that what it wants to be is precisely want it’s been mocking, the whole thing falls to pieces in a way that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You & Me is shown with a collage-based 10-minute American short called Phantom Canyon. Direct by independent animator Stacey Steers, the film explores memories of a relationship through the use of surreal images, including lots of bugs, water, and sounds of surprise. It's the sort of thing that's fascinating and a little creepy to watch, and that most of us leave feeling quite sure we didn't really understand.