This alluring oddity from the director of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has a lot to live up to. Not only because Spotless was such a tour de force, but because Gondry dares return to similar ground. In this case, the peculiar world of Stephane, a possible narcoleptic who confuses vivid dreams with reality. It’s particularly troubling for the young man as his waking life borders on the surreal, and any distinction between the two is subtle.

The story starts disconcertingly inside the cardboard TV studio from which Stephane transmits his dreams. He’s talking with his dead father, discussing his mother who has drawn him back to Paris. But the show is interrupted by removal men – Stephanie is shifting in to the apartment next door. Roused, and after a brief interlude with her piano, Stephane introduces himself as an artist and inventor. He has made a time machine which will appear later; along with a mechanical horse, cellophane water and cardboard cars.

About now it becomes clear that Gondry has spent a lot of time with Charlie Kaufman (who wrote Spotless) while watching Terry Gilliam films. This is a game attempt to merge romantic comedy with fantasy (think Amelié), diffused through animated surrealism. Performing in three languages, the superior Bernal shows a talent for comedy. He works from an energetic script replete with lingua-malapropisms that help keep things afloat. He’s equally appealing when thrown into the visually arresting world of Stephane’s manically deranged dreams.

Yet as Gondry struggles to find tone, the lack of wit and finesse is all too apparent. Florid support from smaller roles does what it can, but the story falls surprisingly flat in a chemistry-free atmosphere generated between Bernal and Gainsbourg.  A significant problem in a romantic comedy that makes those inevitable comparisons all the more unfortunate. This likeable misfire is similar to hearing about another’s dream – intriguing, even haunting, yet ultimately forgettable.

// COLIN FRASER