Nouvelle Vague

In the mist‑kissed shadows of a sprawling lakeside estate on the Swiss shore, the world of Elena Torlato‑Favrini unfolds like a living anthology of whispered verses. The film is stitched together from literary quotations that drift through the rooms of her opulent manor, giving the scenery a reverent, almost theatrical breath. Servants move silently among polished corridors, a gardener tends the ancient oaks, and the lake itself seems to echo the cadence of the ever‑present texts, creating a mood that is both timeless and subtly unsettling.

Into this cultivated serenity wanders Roger Lennox, a drifter whose arrival feels as inevitable as a line of poetry finding its perfect rhyme. Elena extends a hand, and a fragile intimacy blossoms between the wealthy patron and the enigmatic vagabond. Their connection is less about grand gestures than about the quiet exchanges of trust, dependence, and the subtle negotiation of power that constantly courses beneath the surface of their conversations. The estate becomes a stage where desire and control play out in measured glances and unspoken obligations, each character inhabiting a role that feels both written and improvised.

Soon after their bond seems settled, a sudden, unsettling turn hints at an uncanny return. A stranger arrives, bearing an uncanny likeness to the man Elena thought she had lost, and claims a familial tie that blurs the line between memory and reality. This enigmatic figure introduces an unsettling ambiguity, prompting questions about identity, loyalty, and the shifting balance of influence that pervades the household. The film lingers in this liminal space, inviting viewers to ponder whether love can truly survive the echo of a past that may—or may not—have been recreated.

Last Updated: December 03, 2025 at 23:40