Premiering out of Sundance’s world dramatic competition on Jan. 25, “Two Women” plays as a sex farce for the post-#MeToo era, following two stay-at-home moms who simply want more out of life — and who find, in games of seduction with local handymen, the most convenient way to scratch that itch.
Director Chloe Robichaud and screenwriter Catherine Léger (“Babysitter”) adapted the latter’s 2022 play — which was an adaption of the 1970 Quebecois erotic comedy “Two Women in Gold” — updating the social context while mining the same playful conceit for laughs and pathos. Lonely housewives gave way to remote workers and pros on medical leave, but the marital malaise remains unchanged.
Below, Variety speaks with Robichaud, who shared a first look, above, at her fourth feature. Pulsar Content is handling world sales.
Were you familiar with the 1970 film beforehand?
I first saw it in school when I started studying cinema. The film is considered a cult classic that reflected the era’s sexual and cultural revolutions, so we approached it from that historical perspective, and I found it very impactful.
The film was very “new wave” in its approach — freeform in style — which was fascinating: Two housewives, bored with their lives, decide to break free and have sexual adventures. That felt very progressive, quite feminist, even if the 1970 version had a poor reputation and received negative reviews, likely because it was seen as voyeuristic and lewd. Still, that essence was really compelling, so when Catherine approached me with the idea of an adaptation, I was excited to explore how we could do so in a contemporary way.
“Two Women in Gold”
What was your way into this adaptation?
Reclaiming female desire became my entry point — exploring how to present two women reclaiming that desire on their own terms. We talk about the “female gaze,” but showing women’s desire for men from their perspective is still quite rare, and thus, very creatively stimulating. The film doesn’t hold back — you’ll see close-ups of men’s bodies, like hairy chests and buttocks, and things you don’t often see from a feminine perspective. Flipping that was a really exciting challenge.
How did you work to find a visual language for that form of desire?
We had an enormous number of discussions! The first topic we addressed was nudity. The 1970 film had a lot of it — women were often shown nude during sexual acts, and I wanted to play with those expectations. I thought, OK, you want to see breasts? Fine, but you’ll see them in close-up during a mundane moment, like in the bathroom mirror, or when pumping milk. When we see a woman’s backside, she’s going to sit on the toilet. We had to surprise viewers by using nudity outside of a sexual context.
Meanwhile, the sexual acts focus more on sensation. These women aren’t just missing sex; they crave connection and warmth. So we centered this idea of touch and the emotions that evokes, with shots designed to reflect the characters’ points of view, focusing on the objects of their desire. The camera’s positioning and perspective are deliberate, leaving nothing gratuitous.
How did those discussions go?
Months before filming, we had extensive discussions with an intimacy coordinator. I shared my vision with her, and together with the actors, we clarified our intentions. We even choreographed the scenes in pre-production, inflating a mattress in my office, and then rehearsing all together with the actors, the coordinator and the cinematographer. It was very fun.
Later, we showed the actors each shot composition, giving them a clear idea of what would be filmed and what would be visible. This clarity meant that when we got to the set, there were no gray areas. Everyone felt secure, which brought freedom. The actors weren’t nervous or apprehensive; they knew what they were signing up for and why, and thus could be more relaxed, generous and present in their performances. Actors often don’t want to express concerns directly to the director because they aim to please, so when it comes to nudity, performers must have the right to set boundaries. Having a mediator ensures that.
The film has a strong visual style, with bold colors. What inspired that choice?
The story needed to feel grounded and relatable, with real characters facing familiar relationship challenges, but at the same time, Catherine’s writing includes a touch of surrealism, so I needed to find that middle ground. We rooted the film in realistic settings — for example, we shot in real apartments, not in studios — while giving those settings vibrant, pop-inspired colors to reflect the spontaneity of the story. These women are breaking free and having fun, and I wanted my direction to mirror that energy. The bright palette complements the joyful chaos while adding depth. The film tackles profound themes but does so in a way that uplifts and entertains.
Do you think motherhood influenced your approach here?
Interestingly, when Catherine first approached me, about five years ago, I didn’t have children, and had a more abstract understanding of motherhood. Only, by the time we started shooting, I had 2-year-old twins, so I was living through the same kind of upheaval as the characters — understanding the impact of motherhood on a body, a relationship, and a life. All of which gave me a deeper connection to the story and helped me guide the actresses. I don’t think you need to be a parent to make a film about parenthood, but in this case, my personal experiences added an emotional resonance that did help.
How else might this film have been different had you made it five or even 10 years ago?
I’ve reached a point in my career where I’ve learned a lot. [My debut] “Sarah Prefers to Run” came out 12 years ago now, and since then I’ve done TV, comedies, and dramas — so I’m more confident in my voice. Like the women in this latest film, I feel freer in my career. I can say, this is who I am, and this is the kind of cinema I want to make. Five years ago, I would’ve been more cautious, worried about how people would perceive the film; now, I more fully embrace that freedom.
How so?
Well, we shot on 35mm, which is a bold choice for a broad comedy, and I really had to fight for that, trusting myself, knowing it was the right move. With a script so dialogue-driven, and mostly set in small apartments, the film would risk feeling like a chamber piece if not for the strong cinematic quality of 35mm. And I wanted to nod at the 1970 version, as if to say: “Yes, this version is modern, and yes, women have gained more freedom over the past five decades, but you know, some things haven’t changed all that much.” Keeping a retro look could puncture the myth that we’re as liberated as some may claim.
The film also punctures parts of #MeToo fervor, playing them for farce in a way that feels very up-to-date.
Of course, by taking #MeToo questions seriously you actually create the room for humor. That’s comes from Catherine’s writing — she tackles feminist topics from all sides, treating them with incredible nuance and no desire to moralize. When examining societal issues from different angles, humor becomes this great way to spark reflection, and she’s really good at it.
Plus, approaching serious topics with a bit of lightness lets us think about them in a different way. Honestly, five years ago, we probably wouldn’t have been ready to laugh about this stuff, so maybe the timing is perfect. We can laugh, without ever mocking the issues; we’re just looking at them with a lighter perspective, and that’s a good thing.
Do you plan to stay rooted in Quebecois cinema, or are you tempted to work abroad, like some of your peers?
That’s an open question. I’d say both, in the sense that I’m very attached to Quebec cinema. I live in Quebec — it’s my home, where my children are growing up, and I have no desire to move. However, I do feel the need to broaden my horizons. I’ll be writing my next film in English because I want to take on new challenges and meet new artistic collaborators. Stepping outside your comfort zone can shake you up in a positive way.
So yes, I want to expand my horizons, but I’ll always be proud to call myself a Quebec filmmaker and a Canadian filmmaker. I’m very proud of Quebec cinema. Ideally, like Denis Villeneuve, if I make films abroad, I’d love to come back and shoot them at home with our teams here. That’s the dream.
Chloé Robichaud