By: Dominic La-Viola
Alice Winocour’s latest film Couture, which she both wrote and directed, says a lot while ultimately saying very little. The film clearly has a vision of what it wants to express — the emotional lives and struggles of women connected through the world of fashion — but that vision becomes increasingly muddled as the story unfolds.
The script stretches itself thin across four separate women whose lives intersect through a fashion project. In theory, this structure should create a layered portrait of different perspectives within the same world. Instead, the narratives rarely connect in a meaningful way, leaving each storyline feeling incomplete and emotionally distant from both the viewer and each other.
Maxine, played by Angelina Jolie, functions as the film’s central protagonist and carries the primary narrative. Naturally, the film spends the most time developing her character — her goals, her struggles, and the quiet isolation that surrounds her personal and professional life. Yet this heavy focus ultimately creates the film’s largest structural issue. While Maxine receives the attention needed to build a compelling arc, the other three characters never receive the same narrative care.
Christine, the seamstress played by Garance Marillier, suffers the most from this imbalance. Her character feels as though she was meant to have a larger presence in the story, yet what remains on screen feels reduced and incomplete. Christine plays enough of a role to be remembered as a supporting character, but not enough to feel fully realized. Marillier delivers a strong performance with the material she is given, but the character itself never carries the narrative weight it seems designed to hold.
Angèle and Ada receive slightly more time and development than Christine, yet their arcs still lack the substance necessary to build a meaningful emotional connection. Ada in particular occupies an awkward middle ground within the film. She is given enough presence to suggest importance to the story, but not enough depth to fully explore the emotional pressures surrounding her role in the fashion world. By the time Maxine’s third-act arc reaches its conclusion, the resolution feels rushed, as if the film is attempting to tie together multiple threads that were never fully woven into the narrative.
Interestingly, the film’s first act suggests a far more confident direction. Winocour introduces each character with clarity and elegance, allowing the audience to understand their roles within the story without forcing the connections. The use of screen tests and production footage works effectively as a narrative device, particularly when Maxine watches Ada’s tape or when the early introduction of the dress connects Maxine and Christine’s work to Ada’s presence in the fashion show. These early moments feel natural and purposeful, establishing a structure that promises a carefully balanced character study.
However, as the film progresses, that structural clarity begins to fade. The transitions between characters grow increasingly uneven, shifting focus in ways that feel less deliberate and more random. Rather than allowing the narratives to build toward a shared emotional core, the film moves between them in a way that gradually weakens the pacing and the overall cohesion of the story.
The lack of focus extends beyond the script and into the visual language of the film. Much of the cinematography feels observational rather than expressive, as if the film is simply documenting events rather than capturing them with intention. In a film centered around the world of fashion — an industry built on precision, design, and visual control — the absence of a distinct visual purpose becomes especially noticeable.
The runway sequences in particular feel like missed opportunities. The presentation of the fashion show could have been used to amplify the tension and pressure placed on Ada, allowing the cinematography to reflect the emotional weight of the moment. Instead, many of the shots remain static and distant, lacking the visual intensity that might have elevated the scene.
Similarly, Maxine’s storyline offers opportunities for a more deliberate visual progression. As her personal and professional struggles deepen, the cinematography could have gradually shifted toward tighter, more intimate framing to reflect her growing isolation. Instead, the film maintains a relatively loose visual approach throughout, which prevents the imagery from reinforcing the emotional arc of the characters.
Even the score feels somewhat detached from the film’s emotional core. Rather than functioning as a guiding element that helps unify the film’s tone, the music often feels like an afterthought, present but rarely enhancing the emotional weight of the story.
Despite these structural and technical issues, the film does feature strong performances. Louis Garrel, in particular, delivers one of the film’s most consistently engaging performances, bringing a sense of grounded presence to every scene he appears in.
Couture begins with the promise of an intimate character study set within the world of fashion — a story about ambition, pressure, and the emotional toll placed on the women behind the spectacle. Yet as the film moves forward, its focus becomes increasingly scattered. What begins as a carefully introduced ensemble ultimately loses its cohesion, leaving behind a collection of ideas that never fully come together.