Rebecca Romijn-Stamos' central function is looking great and so, confounding various men around her. Chances are that more people will see him in this film, and that's too bad. Black Tie first appears -- in the attire for which he is named -- entering a swank Cannes hotel room occupied by Laure Rebecca Romijn-Stamos. She's lying on her bed, in her panties, with her back to the camera, watching Double Indemnity on tv.
Laure is an object of desire; she exists to be looked at. She barely manages more than a sentence through the first reel or so of the film. Rebecca Romijn-Stamos, in an audacious bit of casting, brings nothing beyond her formidable body—no star persona, no real talent—to a role that, though it requires chameleon-like transformations and a full repertoire of European accents, barely registers in terms of character. In the heist that opens the film, a fit of heavy lesbian erotics in a ladies room at the Cannes Film Festival, natch between Laure and Veronica Rie Rasmussen , a woman wearing a diamond-studded bodice, disguises a clever bait and switch: Laure dismantles the garment, piece by piece, dropping it to the floor for her apparent accomplice Eriq Ebouaney to replace with glass-studded knock-offs, but when she drops the bra, she switches the real one with the fake. Her male accomplice takes the glass, and Veronica walks off wearing the diamond-studded bra. We miss the crucial exchange, even though it happens right in front of us. Just as her masterful plot unravels and Laure falls into the Seine River, plunging to her death, she awakens, seven years earlier, in a water-filled bathtub, from a dream in this case, a nightmare vision of her future.