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In 1993 a thirteen-year-old called Max is given his first camera, and for twenty-five years he does not stop filming. The film is assembled entirely from what he shot: birthdays, school corridors, arguments among friends, a first love, missed chances, a group falling apart. Because the camera is always in his hands we barely see him, and that is its best idea. The subject is not nostalgia but recording itself: because Max films everything he is never quite inside any moment. The woman he loves says so repeatedly, and the film does not answer her. Anthony Marciano directed, with Max Boublil in the lead. It is built as a run of home-video fragments stretching from 1993 into the 2010s, and the picture format changes with the period. What comes out of it is the portrait of a generation: the camcorder of the nineties, the digital of the two thousands, then the phone. Who it is for: anyone drawn to the found-footage form and to France in the nineties and two thousands. Who it is not for: anyone looking for structure. The narrative is deliberately loose, some passages repeat, and the women stay mostly confined to Max's point of view.