Netflix

The tiny details make this film for me; the close-up of a sugar cube held with one corner touching the surface of un cafe, the coffee rising into and transforming the crystals; the steady progress of shadows across the table of a Montmartre cafe as a busker plays flute across the street; a mouse carrying its naked pink young in its mouth. These are the weighty insignificances noticed only after tragedy or during heavy liesure, and Kielslowski recreates the way the world has slowed for his heroine after her enormous loss.

I could watch Juliette Binoche doing nothing and be contented. Here she swims against the lanes of a pool again and again; she's out of synch, but only for a time. The world rights itself--it moves on. We have to catch up.