The introspective and withdrawn Charlotte (Sylvie Testud) is a writer of erotic novels who is clueless about what’s erotic and desperately tries to find eroticism in almost everything from the furniture, eavesdropping on conversations from strangers and juicing things up on the suggestion of her editor by using dirty words–of which she chooses “cunt, dick and ass.” Her sweetly nurturing but overbearing piano teacher mother Catherine (Aurore Clément), with a penchant for waxing poetic on the different smells of chicken, is recently widowed and moves in with her only child rather than live alone–even insisting that Charlotte sleeps with her to stop her insomnia. The opening scene shows mom on the street coaxing to herself the piano lifted on a crane that is stuck in midair as it’s being transported to its new home, and seems to have an orgasm as the piano is safely delivered. Mom fills the cramped duplex apartment with clutter, such as too many boxes and armchairs, and the chain-smoking intellectual daughter gets distracted by mom’s ways to the point she can’t finish the pulp novel and decides to relocate to find peace. The ditsy Charlotte shows a flood of neurotic apartment-hunters around that include a pregnant young woman (Natacha Régnier), who is more comfortable in the apartment talking with Charlotte than at home with her possessive and sexually active hubby (Olivier Ythier); the Delacres, a married couple who are not compatible but afraid to leave each other; a mother and son, as the product driven unfriendly mom (Valérie Bauchau) will only drink the Italian Lavazza coffee; and a cold couple, the Dietrichs (Anne Coesens and Christian Hecq), who bring along a yardstick to measure everything including the framed pictures. The funniest scene is reserved for when all these characters come together in the cramped apartment and try to act normal.