The premise of In the City of Sylvia is deceptive in its simplicity. A nameless young man, credited only as "The Dreamer" (played by Xavier Lafitte), returns to the picturesque city of Strasbourg. Three years prior, he had a brief, unforgettable encounter with a woman named Sylvia. Armed only with a sketchbook and a hazy memory, he spends his days sitting in outdoor cafés, scanning the faces of passing women, hoping to find her again.
Guerín employs a unique cinematic language that prioritizes visuals and sound over dialogue.
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The choice of Strasbourg is vital. The city’s French-German architectural blend provides a labyrinthine backdrop that reflects the protagonist's internal confusion. The cinematography captures the golden, hazy light of summer, making the city feel like a dreamscape where the past and present overlap.
The film tells the story of Sylvia (played by Julie Delpy), a middle-aged American woman who returns to her hometown of Chicago after a long absence. Sylvia is a romantic and nostalgic person, haunted by memories of her past. While wandering through the city, she encounters a mysterious stranger, Greg (played by Gérard Depardieu), who is equally lost and searching. As they stroll through the streets of Chicago, they engage in a series of conversations that reveal their inner lives, desires, and fears. The premise of In the City of Sylvia
The sound design is extraordinary. Dialogue is often muffled, distant, or obscured by the rumble of trams, the chatter of strangers, or the wind through the trees. Instead, we hear the scratch of pencil on paper, the click of heels on pavement, the sigh of a disappointed man. Composer Jocelyn Pook (of Eyes Wide Shut fame) provides a haunting, minimalist string score that only appears at moments of peak emotion—like a memory surfacing briefly before sinking back into the dark.
For much of the film’s 84-minute runtime, we watch him watch. He sits at outdoor cafés, sketchbook in hand, scanning the faces of passing women. He wanders the winding medieval streets, ears pricked for the sound of a name or a familiar laugh. When he finally spots a woman (Pilar López de Ayala) who he believes is Sylvia, he follows her through the city in a prolonged, breathless sequence that feels like a silent film updated for the modern era. The Language of the Gaze Armed only with a sketchbook and a hazy
The movie essentially consists of "a man looking". It eschews traditional plot points and psychological depth in favor of an immersive "urban experience" of waiting and absorbing.
Guerín uses the specific geography of Strasbourg to create a labyrinth of desire. The city is not just a tourist postcard; it is a sonic and visual maze. The Dreamer sits at the intersection of moving bodies, tramways, and shifting shadows. By filming in real locations with natural light, Guerín grounds this highly poetic search in a tangible, breathing reality. The city becomes an echo chamber where every street corner promises a revelation and every tram announcement sounds like a countdown to a missed encounter. The Café Sequence: A Masterclass in Visual Editing
We live in an era of hyper-documentation (Instagram, TikTok, LinkedIn). Everyone is curated, explained, labeled. Sylvia has no social media profile. She is an idea. The film celebrates the unknowability of strangers—the beauty of not knowing.
Guerín released a companion piece, Some Photos in the City of Sylvia , which is a photographic essay made entirely of still images. Together, they function as a study on the relationship between still photography, motion pictures, and the construction of memory.