Even in this era, when testimonial stories and the first person, I, Luke, abound, it is an extreme and unusual film. With brutal sincerity, Lucas Maldonado, its director, examines himself through the damage, but also through the love, towards the people he has had close to him: his filmmaker mother, his architect father, his dead best friend, the girlfriends he manages to put back to bed in a divan bed to relive with them the mistakes, the excesses, the shared fun, the given tenderness. He thus composes a self-portrait in which the splinters of a fractured generational story are visible, a group photo, the picture of a neighbourhood and a city. Without fear of scorn or self-defamation, Maldonado goes beyond the limits of the forbidden, but this transgression, which seems like the game of a mischievous child, manages to reveal moments of frank vulnerability in himself and in others.