Chevalier runs slightly out of steam, a victim of high concept over narrative ingenuity, but it is a relentless satire on male vanity and the grim hollowness of machismo.

Like a black comedy feminist Deliverance, Athina Rachel Tsangari finds lying within the cracks of masculine performativity an inherent struggle with the omnipresent 'threat' of the feminine.

Anybody who doubts that the film's trivial pursuits belie a cutting, Buuelian subtext should watch the final exterior shots carefully.

Chevalier further indulges in the dank impulses and fragility of the male ego.