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From a whirlwind romance to terrifying domestic abuse, “Just The Two of Us” chronicles fraught years in this moody psychological drama.

Blanche (Virginie Efira), suffering from a break-up and being the wallflower counterpart of her outgoing twin sister Rose (also played by Efira), meets Grégoire (Melvil Poupaud) at a party and quickly falls in love with him. After a surprise pregnancy, they decide to fully commit to their relationship, moving away from her family to start a new life together. A classic example of love bombing — or influencing a person by demonstrations of attention and affection — and controlling, manipulative, narcissistic behavior, “Just The Two of Us” doesn’t shy away from depicting the severity of domestic abuse and the rapid pace with which it can come about.

Grégoire’s behavior quickly becomes concerning, and though this can prompt an immediate response of fear in viewers, it kills a lot of suspense before it has a chance to grow. Similarly, the film’s opening features large time skips after each scene, with important events that presumably occurred not taking place on screen. This means the film lags after sprinting through the first years of their relationship, as the family’s situation in the present day feels confusing instead of earned, and this lack of information makes it difficult to become fully invested.

Despite this problem, the quick scenes do create a wonderfully claustrophobic feeling, reflecting the manner in which Grégoire becomes increasingly controlling. Blanche’s flinching at her constantly ringing phone, the curtains on their bedroom threshold instead of a door, and their house’s tiny hallways all contribute to Blanche’s trapped feeling as she tries to find happiness in what should be a perfect life and in a man everyone else calls a devoted husband.

Though the large forest where they live — directly named in the French title of “Love and the Forests” — is certainly intended to have a lurking presence, it goes largely underutilized. With the exception of one interesting and plot significant scene in the woods, all of the other important altercations, conversations, and sex scenes happen in small rooms and confined spaces. This juxtaposition between openness and closure had a lot of potential, so it’s unfortunate it wasn’t centered more. Given that the film stays grounded in the real, with no action sequences or car chases, it perhaps could have benefited from this air of mystique. Though choosing to avoid melodrama was wise, it brings home the horror of domestic violence in otherwise benign settings.

Efira’s performance as Blanche, a woman who desperately wants to feel free, is completely convincing, and generates much sympathy for her character in a narrative that sometimes struggles to find its feet. Though her actions are understandable as she struggles to survive her impossible husband, she is mostly at the mercy of others. Being an independent girlboss in such circumstances is by no means a requirement, but Blanche vacillates between making impulsive, unwise choices just so she can have a sense of autonomy and having clear, decisive plans that she immediately carries out. This lack of consistency, without an accompanying dive into who Blanche is, means the film loses momentum in the middle.

Moreover, “Just The Two of Us” struggles in its ability to balance subtlety. The slow development from red flags to dangerous behavior in Grégoire presumably occurs during time skips, making it difficult to feel invested in the life Blanche has built for herself. The film also seems hesitant to paint the heroine as either highly resolute or emotionally incapacitated, thus lacking a clear identity for the majority of its runtime. Continuing with its habit of spelling things out, the film could have chosen to point out the initial red flags in Grégoire’s romance, or to be more subtle, the film could shown how Grégoire’s treatment of Blanche declined when he felt secure in his control over her, but by committing to neither, the film makes itself into a spectacle that lacks substance.

Though a portrait of the abuser certainly isn’t necessary, the complete lack of information about Grégoire hurts the narrative. Most of their initial relationship is retold by Blanche to her family before the film rockets to the “present” where their relationship is already at a breaking point. This issue also appears with Rose and Blanche — it’s implied Blanche has just gotten out of a relationship when she meets Grégoire, but why and how the split occurred is never divulged. Rose similarly appears, with life updates in tow, whenever the film requires it, but without any true sense of character.

The film’s primary messages — that domestic abuse is traumatic and never the victim’s fault — are, though important and true, a little underwhelming given the grand scale it tries to take on, and the opportunity it had to do so much more.

—Staff writer Millie Mae Healy can be reached at milliemae.healy@thecrimson.com.