The Science of Sleep

In the luminous streets of Paris, a young artist drifts between the ordinary and the uncanny after the loss of his father. Relocating from Mexico to be nearer to his mother, he takes a modest job at a calendar printing house, a setting that feels both mundane and oddly pliable to his imagination. The city’s charm is filtered through his mind’s restless currents, where the everyday routine of typesetting coexists with the vivid, often absurd reveries that spill over his waking hours.

Stéphane Miroux moves through this world with a shy, introspective demeanor, his thoughts constantly sketching fantastical catastrophes that he calls “disasterology.” His internal landscape is a kaleidoscope of childhood nightmares and whimsical inventions, each dream‑like episode tugging at the borders of reality. The tone of his life is hushed yet playful, a delicate balance between melancholy grief and the boundless curiosity of a child‑like creator still seeking to understand his own emotions.

Enter Stéphanie, the enigmatic neighbor whose own artistic spirit radiates through her loft. Their connection blossoms like a shared canvas, each conversation hinting at collaborative possibilities and mutual inspiration. She becomes a mirror for his yearning, encouraging him to explore the intersections of his fantasies and the tangible world around them. Their budding rapport adds a gentle, hopeful undercurrent to his otherwise solitary journey.

The film swirls with a visual language that blurs the line between dream and reality, inviting viewers into a world where ordinary objects can transform into extraordinary symbols. Its mood oscillates between wistful nostalgia and vibrant, surreal playfulness, capturing the fragile moment when grief begins to give way to creative renewal. Amidst the Parisian backdrop, the story promises a poetic meditation on how imagination can both shelter and challenge us as we navigate loss and the longing for connection.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 09:59