A man and a woman in evening dress lie in bed talking in the sort of intimate,
vaguely adversarial way. Their subject is a foreign name, "Attache Moi,"
evidently a perfume. He contends the name makes little sense.
And then, just to be really irritating, that he also hates perfume.
She, of course, knows better.
Who they are? Where they are?
Why they're dressed in rumpled evening clothes.
Whether the action takes place in the past, the present, or the future.
Or indeed, how exactly the two are tied to one another remain
somewhat open questions-- for viewers to decide for themselves.
At 3 minutes and 30 seconds, ATTACHE-MOI is willfully too
long to be a commercial, and arguably too short to be a "short.”
Instead it is a kind of meditation that explores some of the
premises of a product that is unisex and European--
leaving as much as possible unstated and to be inferred.
A man and a woman in evening dress lie in bed talking in the sort of intimate,
vaguely adversarial way. Their subject is a foreign name, "Attache Moi,"
evidently a perfume. He contends the name makes little sense.
And then, just to be really irritating, that he also hates perfume.
She, of course, knows better.
Who they are? Where they are?
Why they're dressed in rumpled evening clothes.
Whether the action takes place in the past, the present, or the future.
Or indeed, how exactly the two are tied to one another remain
somewhat open questions-- for viewers to decide for themselves.
At 3 minutes and 30 seconds, ATTACHE-MOI is willfully too
long to be a commercial, and arguably too short to be a "short.”
Instead it is a kind of meditation that explores some of the
premises of a product that is unisex and European--
leaving as much as possible unstated and to be inferred.