‘Two Women’ Review – A Refreshing & Non-judgmental Sex Comedy [Sundance 2025]

Most friendship origin stories don’t start with accusations of too-loud sex, but that’s exactly how things begin for Violette and Florence in Chloé Robichaud’s Two Women, which just premiered at Sundance. Based on Catherine Léger’s stage play Home Deliveries (itself a modern take on the 1970 film Two Women in Gold), this French-Canadian sex comedy follows two neighbors who turn to no-strings-attached hookups to cure their suburban ennui. It’s steamy and playful, but also surprisingly heartfelt. The film isn’t afraid to get real about the things we don’t usually talk about, like the tedium of new motherhood, the weight of depression, or the wild ways we try to feel something, anything, when life grinds us down.

New mother Violette (Laurence Leboeuf) keeps hearing the sound of a crow—except there’s no bird to be found. Convinced the noise must be coming from her neighbor’s wild sexcapades, she confronts Florence (Karine Gonthier-Hyndman), who admits that her and her partner’s sex life is entirely non-existent. This moment of unexpected honesty forms a bond between the two women, each recognizing their own quiet struggles with domestic dissatisfaction.

For Florence, the solution is clear: toss the antidepressants and reclaim her libido—a decision that leads to some spectacularly hot encounters with a parade of handymen (cable installers, plumbers, you name it). Violette, whose closest relationship lately is with her breast pump, takes a page from Florence’s book by taking her neighbor’s hamster droppings to set a very different kind of trap for the local exterminator.

While the women are having their fun, their partners are dealing with their own personal struggles. Violette’s husband Benoit (Félix Moati) is having an affair with his coworker Éli (Juliette Gariépy), though Éli finds herself far more fascinated by what Violette’s up to than anything Benoit has to offer. As for Florence’s partner David (Mani Soleymanlou), he doesn’t exactly respond well to her going off her meds. His worry leads him to start taking antidepressants himself, and he seems more invested in caring for his greenhouse than his relationship.

Robichaud (Sarah Prefers To Run, Days of Happiness) and cinematographer Sara Mishara (Viking) give the film a light, nostalgic feel by shooting on 35mm, showing Montreal in all its snow-covered beauty. The camera makes a point of viewing male bodies through female desire, flipping the traditional male gaze on its head.

While the story ventures beyond the apartment walls to hockey games, community meetings, and local bars, it’s in the close quarters of their homes where we see these characters truly face themselves—often quite literally, thanks to the film’s clever use of mirrors and framing that play on their sense of constraint.

Robichaud treats her leads with both warmth and honesty. Her camera finds Violette and Florence in moments of natural light and genuine intimacy, even as their lives spiral into increasingly wild territory. The sex scenes walk a clever line—they’re deliberately playful in setup (that cable installation scene is…something else) while still focusing on female pleasure in a way that doesn’t feel exploitative (but it certainly doesn’t feel fresh either).

The two leads give great performances despite some of the film’s shortcomings. Leboeuf brings a very real nervous energy to Violette that evolves into something more confident and self-assured as she discovers her own agency. Gonthier-Hyndman tackles Florence’s sexual renaissance with a delightful mix of determination and wit, making her character’s single-minded pursuit of pleasure both amusing and strangely admirable. Their chemistry as neighbors-turned-confidantes gives the film its emotional core, even when the plot takes somewhat convenient turns toward its resolution.

But beyond their sexual awakenings (or re-awakenings, I should say), the film never really fleshes out its characters  Florence’s career as a translator and her mental health journey feel more like narrative devices than fully explored aspects of her identity. Leboeuf gives her all as Violette, but we only get to know her through the lens of new motherhood. And while your sense of self often gets lost in the fog of sleepless nights and endless feedings in those first few years of motherhood, it feels like a real missed opportunity to say something deeper about this chaotic, overwhelming, and messy transition. 

The supporting cast drifts through the story with varying degrees of purpose. Sophie Nélisse plays a young, attractive, self-righteous neighbor whose character is seemingly poised for greater significance, but that never quite materializes. The men in the story, particularly David and Benoit, get moments of genuine vulnerability that feel frustratingly short-lived. 

Despite its confident direction and great performances, Two Women feels like it’s arrived a few years too late to its own conversation. While its approach to female desire is refreshingly direct, the insights it offers feel oddly dated in 2025. But the film does deserve credit for treating its characters’ sexual awakening with a light touch—i.e. when infidelity comes to light, the responses are refreshingly nuanced rather than predictable. 

I enjoyed the film’s thoughtful and nonjudgmental exploration of relationships and what defines happiness, even if it doesn’t quite stick the landing. Robichaud and Léger attempt to ask some deeper questions about monogamy, satisfaction, and what we owe to ourselves versus our partners. The film is at its best when it lets its characters be messy and human, pursuing pleasure without judgment. While the ending feels a bit abrupt and there are certainly threads left loose, Two Women is a genuinely entertaining and easy watch, even if it’s not quite the revolutionary statement about female desire it might have been a decade ago.

Two Women had its World Premiere in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition section of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.

Director: Chloé Robichaud

Writer: Catherine Léger

Rated: NR

Runtime: 100m