The same cosy amateur-sleuth energy as Only Murders in the Building, but French, and gently neurotic with it. It takes its time — it definitely takes its time — but once it settles in, it's a genuinely easy hang.
Jodie Foster gets to show a lighter, more playful side than usual, and she's terrific: a psychiatrist who really ought to know better, getting pulled deeper and deeper into a conspiracy with her ex-husband through the sheer thrill of poking around where she probably shouldn't. The lovely thing is that their rekindled chemistry never feels forced, and the film keeps widening the mystery just enough to stay intriguing without tipping into nonsense.
It didn't have me howling. But it kept me smiling, which is its own kind of trick