Sibyl (Virginie Efira) takes her job as one of Paris’ most sought-after psychologists very seriously – so seriously, in fact, she has decided to quit the profession, and return to the career she has always envisioned herself as thriving in – writing, an endeavour she quit years ago to pursue a real career. Now, with the opportunity to realize her ambitions, Sibyl goes in search of the perfect story to tell, only to realize that her creative salvation comes in the form of Margot (Adèle Exarchopoulos), a talented but absent-minded young actress who finds herself in an unfortunate position when she finds out that she’s pregnant with the child of one of her co-stars (Gaspard Ulliel), who just so happens to be in a long-term relationship with Mika (Sandra Hüller), the tyrannical director of the film that they’re working on. Sibyl is initially reluctant to give Margot any help, having to sever ties with even her most prominent clients. However, Margot’s growing desperation for help rises in the same way as Sibyl’s curiosity, with the latter using the young woman’s request for help as material for her novel, giving her all the inspiration she needs to tell a compelling story, a work of towering fiction far too good to possibly be true, and the fact that she would be the only one who knew the truth only motivates her more. However, Sibyl has not lived a life free of her own misfortunes, and through her growing relationship with Margot, she soon finds herself revisiting her own past, atoning for the failures that allow her to look at the young actress with a blend of empathy and disdain, almost as if she’s seeing a reflection of her younger self staring back at her.

Justine Triet made quite an extraordinary film with Sibyl, a strange but daring dark comedy that operates on many different levels, and succeeding at absolutely all of them. As a multilayered film, it works as both a comedy and a psychodrama, with Triet seeming to derive this story from four points of cinematic reference – the character-driven drama Woody Allen (in particular Another Woman), the grit of John Cassavetes, the dreamlike surrealism of Robert Altman (with the film having some broad strokes that are oddly similar to 3 Women) and the intensity of Ingmar Bergman. Whether or not these were direct influences remains to be seen, but it’s certain that the director has made something that stands alongside them as a daring film that that looks at many themes – artistry and creativity, femininity and mental health, all of which combine with a certain darkly comical undercurrent that gives Sibyl its distinctive mood, and turns it into a memorable (if not wholly disconcerting) social odyssey that sees some terrific performances from a cast committed to bringing the gloriously deranged vision of Triet and her strange but compelling story to the screen. Sibyl may appear to be like any other character-driven comedy that looks at the machinations of a certain subset of the bourgeoisie collective (which Triet does to great effect here, with her portrayal of the meaningless minutiae that normally populate these stories being understated but utterly brilliant), but there is something much deeper to this film, a certain quality that makes it entirely worthwhile, and extraordinary in many different ways, most of which don’t become all that clear right until the film has ended, making Sibyl a film that works as both as a film that entertains and also lends itself to rumination, especially with the more challenging themes that comes along with it.

Sibyl is constructed as the portrait of one individual and her metaphysical journeys across many different stages in her personal and professional career – so it only makes sense that the titular character was to be played by someone who not only understood the intricacies of the character, but could convey them in a way that was almost entirely natural, but without being too understated, as not to distract from the fact that this an extremely funny film when it isn’t commenting on the sometimes overly broad social implications of its story, finding the perfect balance between the shifting tones. Virginie Efira, to her credit, is extraordinary in the role, and gives one of the finest performances of the year – the film is segmented into different stages, and while she is constructed as a logical, level-headed woman at the outset, we soon eventually learn that she’s far from being as sane as she appears to be. Over the course of the film, we witness her gradual unravelling, until we’re presented with a terrifyingly complex individual who is far more than the bundle of neuroses most filmmakers would assert on such a character. Efira takes charge of the character in a way that prevents her from being parodic or unrealistic – she may be unstable, based on a storied past that very few people (if any) know about, thus giving the character more nuance other than just guarding her idiosyncrasies very well. Sibyl is the kind of film that seems to be simultaneously a blessing and a challenge for any actor because while the role would afford anyone the opportunity to play a fascinating character, she’s one that needs to be executed with a certain deft precision, and Efira manages to do just this, inhabiting the ambigious space between sanity and derangement that makes Sibyl one of the year’s most compelling characters, and the film around her equally as effective.

In keeping with some of the filmic influences, Triet doesn’t just focus on Efira’s character, but also on two other women who find their way into her life without any warning. Adèle Exarchopoulos is tremendous as Margot, the insecure young actress enduring an enormous challenge, both physically and mentally, as she seeks out help from Sibyl, hoping to get the guidance she needs, and which she feels only Sibyl could provide. Exarchopoulos has only risen in status since Blue is the Warmest Colour (one of only two aspects of the film worth remembering, the other being the tremendous work done by Léa Seydoux), and finally delivers a performance that stands almost alongside her breakthrough performance as her namesake in the Kechiche film. The role of Margot in Sibyl, like the titular character, is one that requires both impeccable comic timing and extraordinary restraint in dramatic moments, where both elements work in tandem to construct a somewhat tragic figure, even if the role itself isn’t one we’d feel particularly sorry for – we empathize with Margot just about as much as we can with a spoiled actress facing the consequences for a passion-driven affair. Yet, Exarchopoulos manages to sell us with her tremendous performance, finding a certain charm in an unlikeable character that makes her plight genuinely upsetting, even if we can’t help but question why this film seems too concerned with Margot, when it’s Sibyl we really care about – but there’s an underlying complexity to the character that feels so authentic, and like the film has more meaning than it initially lets on.

Contrasting the elegant, waif-like Exarchopoulos is Sandra Hüller, who once again delivers one of the year’s best performances after Toni Erdmann, which brought her instant worldwide recognition as a truly gifted actress. In Sibyl, playing the manipulative Mika, a filmmaker who could benefit from a course in anger management, Hüller dials this role up all the way and gives one of the most outrageous performances of the year, a masterpiece of high camp that somehow still comes across as entirely authentic. Hüller, like the other two performers, finds the balance in the role, taking advantage of the free reign offered to her in terms of exploring the character, but also understanding that while she has the only intentionally despicable character in the film, it would detract from the story as a whole had she gone too far with the role – Mika, despite her nefariousness, is not conveyed as a villain, but rather as someone who genuinely believes what she is doing is right – and she just may be. So much of Sibyl depends on how the viewer approaches the story, and each viewpoint has its merits, equal to the flaws. Hüller naturally doesn’t have the character that comes across as being the most endearing, yet she gives an unforgettable performance that feels natural without neglecting the comedic pedigree that comes with a truly captivating antagonist. The three women at the centre of Sibyl are all terrific – their chemistry is extraordinary, each one playing off the other with such ease, it almost feels as if Triet constructed this as less about the emotional quandaries of one woman, but rather of three, which gives Sibyl even more nuance when you break it down.

Feminity is a central theme to this film, and considering how this film was written and directed by a female filmmaker who has previously explored similar themes in her previous work, it’s only fair to say that Sibyl, while focused on many different ideas, anchors itself within its forays into more feminist issues. The film quite cunningly takes on some intimidating subjects that even the most serious and dour dramas fail to achieve, delivering a refreshing comedy that isn’t afraid to be bold and put certain concepts into the ether, in the hopes that (at the very least), it will provoke some thought. Often outrageously hilarious, even when focused on issues such as sexuality and abortions, the film is quite intrepid in how it approaches some very difficult subjects. The reason the film succeeds is based entirely on Triet’s refusal to soften the blow of these themes – instead of delivering them in an innocuous, delicate way, she somewhat forces them through in a way that’s effective without being intrusive. Through abandoning all apprehension, Triet constructs Sibyl as a complex film that can be both funny and alluring, especially in the few (but pivotal) sequences where the film uses erotic imagery less as a means of arousal and more as a narrative tool. A very unconventional romantic comedy (where the goal is less about finding the perfect partner, and more about the love one has for themselves – but this kind of subversive storytelling is certainly not anything we haven’t seen before, especially in recent years), Sibyl explores femininity through looking at three different women – Triet is very careful to make them distinct characters, but not in a way that makes it seem obvious. They’re not chasing after the same goal (meaning, the same man), even if he does represent a considerable point of conflict for them – rather, they’re working through their inner quandaries, which unfortunately tend to be funnelled towards the visceral, manifesting in carnal desire, when what they’re actually after is much more internal. Naturally, most of them is directed towards Sibyl, as the film’s central figure, but there are some wonderful moments on the part of both Margot and Mika, when their own challenges come to the fore, which gives the film a certain complexity that prevents it from ever succumbing to cliche.

Sibyl ultimately works the best when we consider how Triet defied everything that was thought to be sacrosanct about this kind of storytelling by blending together many different genres and conventions, without ever becoming convoluted in any way. As we’ve said already, the film is mainly a darkly-comical, character-driven melodrama about some serious issues, executed with a precision that allows the director to take some irreverent turns in how she represents broader ideas in a way that feels entirely authentic. The successes of the film really belong to everyone involved in bringing it to life, whether it be Triet with her vivacious, intricate script that facilitated some incredible provocation, quietly subverting expectations as she goes about exploring something far deeper than what we initially think this film is going to be. It could also be the responsibility of the cast, with the three main characters being outrageously brilliant, playing their roles with incredible restraint, and knowing exactly when to play to the rafters, creating a dynamic that allows them to give some of the most memorable performances of the year. Sibyl is not always the easiest film – the humour is sometimes so abstract (without being absurd), and the tonal shifts can occasionally be somewhat jarring, but only because the film does so well in leading us in one direction, and then promptly changing it as a means of creating the sense of alienation the main character seems to struggle with. As a whole, the film is a real surprise – it’s an elegant, funny and well-written character study that feels invigorating, taking the audience on the same metaphysical journeys as the titular character, who shows how sometimes the best inspiration for the most outlandish stories tends to come from reality itself – but what happens when reality and artistry meet in sometimes perilous ways?