Mikael Stånggren’s review published on Letterboxd:
Moi, Amélie and Jerry Seinfeld have something in common. We all unhealthily obsess over life's little details, numbers and peculiarities. I particularly obsess over those that require omnipotent powers to be truly known. Like: How many people in the world are having sex at this very instant? How many of my neighbors? How many alien races are there out there, if any? How does Vanilla Ice make ends meet? Why do I punch in at work, fully aware that I've already done so mere seconds ago? How many times have people said good things about me when I wasn't there and what exactly did they say? How many times have they said bad things? Have I had any past lives and if so, have I been famous? Are any of my current friends my great great great great great great great grandchildren from a previous existence? Why is everything that tastes good and makes me happy for the moment bad for me? Why am I lucky with my family, friends, the awesome timing of my childhood, but not in the crazy little thing called love? Why am I poisoning my mind by reminding myself and random members on Letterboxd of this? Why is ALF still a thing in Croatia? And last, but certainly not least, why didn't I revisit this French lil' masterpiece sooner?