Grief hangs over Miroirs No. 3 like a storm that never quite breaks. It’s a film about loss and the illusions we build to live beside it — graceful, deliberate, and quietly unsettling. The story edges toward a revelation that, in another film, might veer into horror, yet here it’s played with the intimacy of a chamber piece: more mournful than macabre.
That restraint keeps it grounded, though perhaps too safe. The direction is elegant, the performances finely tuned, but the pacing rarely strays from comfort. It’s all beautifully lit, if a touch over-polished.
Still, there’s grace in that composure. Miroirs No. 3 lingers like a half-remembered dream — delicate and human, content to trace grief’s reflection rather than plunge beneath its depths.