the ending distracts from what is otherwise a haneke-esque film about a middle-aged writer who is thinking about her life and regrets. this is all manifested in her relationship with a young woman who lives a libertine lifestyle very much the opposite of the writer. the ending injects some pointless question mark into the whole thing – was the young woman real or a figment of the writer’s imagination? i think the film could have done without this element, but maybe that’s what got people talking about it. not a particularly striking film in any way. the boobs were nice though.