I just saw my first VIFF film, “Vincent”, a minimalist comedy from France. Director-performer Thomas Salvador plays Vincent, a sinewy introverted construction labourer who exhibits supernatural powers. When he is wet he swims butterfly faster than a motorboat and can power-lift a cement mixer but when he is dry he is an unassuming labourer.

Vincent’s prowess in the pool impresses Lucie (Vimala Pons) his beautiful girl-next-door love interest (think Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island). His scorching love scene with her is memorable for the camera angles that reveal everything and nothing all in the same shot. But their romance goes nowhere; she’s in the script just to give witness to his abilities. Vincent’s impulsive petty crime puts him at odds with the law.

This laconic comedy works best when Vincent finds water in the most unlikely settings. When running from police a splash in a culvert can mean a huge escape advantage. Salvador is a gifted stylist with the ability dazzle his audience with breathtaking rocky coastal waterscapes and memorable French sex. This is an elegant Superman tale without the righteous overwrought victories that litter Hollywood films.

The 77 minute debut film may have worked better as a 19min short as the story feels shallow, and flounders with lack of purpose. However “Vincent” is pleasing to watch for it’s cinematic craft from a nascent auteur who will no doubt soar with better material. And if I may be shallow as well, Thomas Salvador’s smouldering good looks don’t hurt the film either.

Amy Schumer mined her stand up routine to write Trainwreck. Directed by Judd Apatow (Knocked Up, Forty-Year-Old Virgin), the film also stars Schumer as her namesake, Amy, a trainwreck-postersexually ravenous pot-head who writes for a breezy magazine geared to the sports addicted, adult male. Her story assignment is a sports doctor (Bill Hader) who has gained fame by surgically repairing famous athletes’ joints, limbs and tendons. For unknown reasons he hasn’t had sex in five years. The film is a spoof on the uncommitted reckless bachelor meets good girl story but this time around the genders are switched: it is Amy who fears intimacy.

Can she commit? This is the central dilemma. From the outset you can see where the film is going. There are a few memorable chuckles especially relating to Amy’s fear of intimacy. She never sleeps overnight and hates spooning. “I am exiting this hug,” she says when a group hug feels creepy.

The film should be lauded for inverting male-female relationship stereotypes but the broad sketch comedy style relies on finding gags rather letting Amy find poignant moments naturally. Perhaps Lena Dunham (Girls), Apatow’s other lustrous protégé, would have fared better with this material. The movie is consumed in the way that one devours a bucket of fried chicken—a guilty pleasure, enjoyable for the moment, but difficult to embrace as the full meal. At times it feels more like Saturday Night Live schtick than a subversive rom-com with memorable anti-heroine who almost commits.