Chelsea Alexandra
There’s a romanticized version of big-city living that movies and TV love to sell us. A version that is glamorous, vibrant, and full of endless possibilities. However, it isn’t always so romantic. The constant noise, cramped spaces, and the endless parade of strangers with their own agendas can turn everyday life into a pressure cooker of stress and anxiety. Being a city dweller is not for the weak. Rachel Wolther’s debut feature, The French Italian, takes that all-too-familiar frustration of city living and spins it into a delightfully messy comedy, showing what happens when petty annoyance snowballs into full-blown obsession. It’s a funny, relatable look at how urban life can magnify our own neuroses.
In The French Italian, Valerie and Doug (Catherine Cohen and Aristotle Athari) are a couple in their early thirties and live in a tiny New York apartment. They have been experiencing some issues with their downstairs neighbors, a younger couple named Mary and Jordan (played by Chloe Cherry and Jon Rudnitsky). Their screaming matches bleed through the thin walls. When the two aren’t fighting, they are singing karaoke all hours of the day. Valerie and Doug are fed up with them yet they can’t help but be curious about the couple. They are constantly creating stories and speculating on the two. After months of putting up with it, Valerie and Doug finally give in and decide to escape to the suburbs.
However, before leaving the city that never sleeps, they decide to have one last hoorah and try to get payback on the neighbors that they want to escape. When they discover that one of their neighbors, Mary, is an actress, they enlist their theater-loving friend Wendy (Ruby McCollister) to help them stage a fake play meant to embarrass her. The plan backfires in the best way possible. Once Val and Doug start putting the show together, they realize they might actually love it.
The French Italian is led by two comedic talents in Cohen and Athari. The two are perfectly matched in this film. Cohen’s neurotic intensity is pitch-perfect, her delivery sharp but deeply human, while Athari’s dry, almost resigned humor gives the film its emotional anchor. Their chemistry never falters, even as their ideas spiral out of control. It is Cherry who is a scene stealer and the real heart of the film. Cherry’s performance is so strange it’s mesmerizing. Her awkwardness starts to feel intentional, even brilliant, like she’s embodying the film’s whole point: an actress who doesn’t realize she’s acting. Even her total obliviousness to the drama around her is quite hilarious. Together, the cast creates a world that feels ridiculous yet painfully familiar to artists who take themselves just a little too seriously.
The premise is simple and relatable: neighbors driving each other crazy, a couple’s petty grievances escalating. However, The French Italian makes it feel fresh and modern. Wolther’s film thrives on the minutiae of millennial life: the mix of anxiety, self-absorption, and obsession with social perception. Valerie and Doug’s spiral from irritation to elaborate revenge feels absurd. Valerie and Doug’s choice to channel their bitterness into “art” is both completely insane and, somehow, completely believable.
Wolther’s direction in The French Italian is confident for a debut feature. She trusts her actors, the writing, and the small details to carry the humor, resulting in a subtle, clever, and oddly immersive look at millennial chaos. She balances absurdity with realism in a way that keeps the characters believable even as their schemes spiral out of control.
The French Italian is a funny, weird little ride. Even when the plot gets a little bonkers, the chemistry between the cast and the film’s sharp, messy observations about ego, ambition, and petty revenge make it a genuinely entertaining watch. It’s quirky, clever, and just the kind of chaotic comedy you didn’t know you needed.
