Sophia (Magalie Lépine-Blondeau) and Sylvain (Pierre-Yves Cardinal) are the main characters in The Nature of Love. But as I’ve written before and I will write this again – supporting characters can sometimes enhance a lot of films. If anything, they can serve as catalysts for what the main characters end up doing, like Sylvie (Marie-Ginette Guay). Seeing Sylvie’s struggles with her husband Pierre (Guy Thauvette), probably makes her want to blow up her world. Doing so makes her, a philosophy professor, want to break up with Sylvie’s son Xavier (Francis-William Rhéaume) to be with Sylvain, a contractor. Running again into Xavier confirms her decision, showing her that fortysomethings can be adults about breakups. Meeting Sylvain’s family, though, makes her question her decision, thinking that they might not be each other’s ‘fit’.

Love is a thing that most viewers see in films, and at most times, casting helps us feel what the filmmakers intend to feel. This is the part of the review where I toe the line between professionalism and thirsting for co-lead Pierre-Yves Cardinal. If Canada survives the next four years, the first thing on the agenda is to make Cardinal the most famous man on earth. And let’s be real, we don’t have much time, even though he looks amazing for someone playing a manly man in his forties.

Monia Chokri’s movie also frames him in fascinating ways – he’s a benevolent yet shadowy figure to Pierre and Sylvie. But The Nature of Love’s perspective returns to Sophie. To her, Sylvain is clear as day, as if he’s her (as well as our) secret. Actors are beautiful, that’s a matter of fact. Although maybe me writing about Cardinal this way is a residual crush from him at Tom at the Farm.

Cardinal and Lepine-Blondeau, as Sylvain and Sophia respectively, are in glorious sex scenes – GenZ is missing out on them. These scenes are, as they should, important parts of character building, indicative of passion, ennui, and sometimes hate. But as I already wrote above, The Nature of Love isn’t just a hundred and thirteen minutes of wall to wall scenes in bedrooms.

The two of them have to be in each other’s different worlds now. In The Nature of Love, it’s obvious that they might not belong in said worlds. Costume design choices here are subtle-ish. They show viewers which one of them is trying to fit in and whether they’re successful. For example, what is Sylvie doing with a French bun in a country bar? And what is he doing wearing the loudest shirt ever? Sophie’s entry into Sylvain’s rural Quebecois country bar makes for a memorable scene as she receives quite a devastating insult.

I love my contrasts. Monia Chokri’s The Nature of Love has its healthy and subtle share of said world building contrasts. Sophie and Sylvain have a fight as he accuses her of cheating. And of course they make up with some cathartic hate sex. This is different from when they two of them run into Xavier at a wine shop. There, they set hurt feelings aside to talk like old friends.

In The Nature of Love, people talk on top of each other, with a camera that zooms into the characters’ faces, full of emotions. These are interesting visual and writing techniques for a film where the kernel of its idea resembles something on Lifetime. It makes us believe that men who can renovate your cottage can also recite other people’s poetry after a long night of love. To paraphrase Napoleon, romantic comedies are a lie agreed upon. Love isn’t real, but films like this make us remember that people who should know better disregard everything for some romance.

The Nature of Love comes soon on OVID, uncut and commercial free.