The Olympic Games are often hailed as a unifying force for all of humanity. A time when people from around the globe, regardless of religion or background, put aside their differences to come together and play sports. Most of the stories we hear about the Olympics are told from the perspective of the athletes. But what about the everyday people just trying to get through the chaos of those two frenzied weeks? That’s where Laurent Slama steps in with his directorial debut, a slice-of-life film set during the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics.
We follow Elisabeth (Agathe Rousselle), a depressed woman working for a concierge service in Paris, where she often shows rude tourists to their rented apartments for the Olympic Games. It’s a stressful job that has her running around the city. Her only respite is when she disconnects her hearing aid and gazes at Monet’s “Water Lilies”. However, everything changes when she meets a free-spirited young traveler named Elijah, (Alex Lawther), who brings the much needed energy and joy into Elisabeth’s life as the city around them buzzes with energy.
The key to A Second Life lies in its simplicity. It doesn’t try to overcomplicate its message or overwhelm the audience with stylistic excess. At its core, it’s a straightforward story about two people who find each other at exactly the right moment—when they need it most. And in that simplicity, the film finds a kind of quiet honesty that many more elaborate productions struggle to achieve.
Rather than relying on melodrama or grand declarations, A Second Life leans into the understated. It allows moments to linger, silences to speak, and emotions to unfold naturally. There’s a kind of raw authenticity here, the kind that can only come from a filmmaker who understands restraint and trusts his audience to feel what’s left unsaid. Shot almost entirely on location during the Paris Summer Olympics, Laurent Slama’s directorial debut immerses the viewer in the chaos of the Games, not the spectacle on the field, but the overwhelming, often disorienting atmosphere that takes over a city when the world turns its attention to it.
Yet even in that whirlwind, Slama manages to carve out a sense of calm. His dreamlike cinematography softens the city’s frenetic pace, and his quiet, nearly meditative sound design pulls the focus inward. What emerges is a thoughtful meditation on loneliness and connection. How even in moments when humanity is at its most unified, individuals can feel more alone than ever. And how, sometimes, the briefest connection between two strangers, when one feels invisible and the other sees them fully, can be utterly transformative. It’s simple. It’s quiet. And in that, it becomes something remarkably powerful.
Agathe Rousselle is the quiet glue holding the film together, delivering a performance that perfectly captures the isolating nature of depression. How it makes you feel invisible, and how, in that invisibility, you might destroy the very things meant to protect you. Opposite her, Alex Lawther brings a gentle warmth to Elijah, whose kindness and openness give Elisabeth the space to feel seen and heard. But beneath his lightness, there’s a quiet ache, a subtle sadness that never quite leaves him. Together, their performances are understated and deeply affecting, two lonely souls orbiting one another, fitting together with an unexpected ease, like peas and carrots.
Overall, A Second Life is a beautiful example of how powerful simplicity can be. It doesn’t rely on complex plot twists or grand statements to leave an impact. Instead, it finds strength in quiet moments, subtle performances, and emotional honesty. It’s a reminder that storytelling doesn’t always need to be loud to be meaningful. Sometimes, the simplest stories are the ones that resonate the most and A Second Life proves that with grace and confidence.
My Rating: B+
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