
Sarah Stern
Simone Benloulou

Just as Simone works up the courage to tell her conservative Jewish family she's a lesbian, she finds herself attracted to a male Senegalese chef.
I’ve been thinking about the way desire complicates identity—or maybe it’s the other way around. To Each, Her Own (Les Goûts et les Couleurs), Myriam Aziza’s 2018 romantic comedy, doesn’t just dip its toes into that murky water; it cannonballs in. The film follows Simone, a 30-year-old Jewish woman who’s spent years in a committed relationship with her female partner, only to find herself unexpectedly drawn to a male Senegalese chef.
The premise alone is a minefield of cultural and personal expectations, and Aziza navigates it with a lightness that doesn’t trivialize the stakes. This isn’t a film about labels or coming out in the traditional sense. It’s about the messy, sometimes contradictory nature of wanting, and how that wanting can feel like a betrayal—not just to others, but to yourself.

The film’s title, Les Goûts et les Couleurs, translates roughly to “tastes and colors,” a French idiom that shrugs off the idea of universal preferences. It’s a fitting metaphor for Simone’s journey, which isn’t about choosing between identities but learning to hold them simultaneously. Aziza, whose previous work like L’an prochain à Jérusalem (2007) and La robe du soir (2009) often explores personal and cultural identity, brings that same sensitivity here.
But where her earlier films lean toward the introspective, To Each, Her Own embraces the rhythms of a romantic comedy, complete with its own brand of humor and heartache. The result is a film that feels both familiar and quietly radical.
What’s striking about To Each, Her Own is how it refuses to let Simone—or the audience—off the hook. Romantic comedies often resolve their central conflicts with a grand gesture or a neat epiphany, but Aziza lingers in the discomfort. Simone’s attraction to the chef, Malik (played by Jean-Christophe Folly), isn’t presented as a revelation that invalidates her relationship with her partner, Claire (Julia Piaton).
Instead, it’s a crack in the foundation of her carefully constructed life, one that forces her to confront the parts of herself she’s been avoiding. The film doesn’t judge her for it, but it doesn’t let her off easy, either. There’s a scene early on where Simone and Claire attend a family gathering, and the camera lingers on Simone’s face as she watches her relatives interact.
"A lighthearted, uneven romantic comedy that explores bisexuality with warmth but underwhelms in execution."
The film takes a gentle, sincere approach to bisexuality, and Simone’s personal journey is relatable and refreshing. The romantic comedy structure is too predictable, though, and the humor often falls flat, so the story ends up thin and forgettable despite its heart.
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To Each, Her Own (2018), originally titled Les Goûts et les Couleurs, is a French romantic comedy that flips the script on love and identity. Directed by Myriam Aziza, the film follows Simone (Sarah Stern), a 30-year-old Jewish woman in a long-term relationship with her female partner, who unexpectedly finds herself drawn to a man—sparking a journey of self-discovery and societal expectations. latestnetflix.com's view is that with a cast featuring Richard Berry, Arié Elmaleh, and Catherine Jacob, the movie blends humor with heart, but what went on behind the camera?
Myriam Aziza isn’t a household name, but her work in independent French cinema has earned her a reputation for intimate, character-driven stories. Before To Each, Her Own, she directed films like L’an prochain à Jérusalem (2007) and La robe du soir (2009), which often explore themes of identity and relationships. Aziza’s approach to To Each, Her Own seems no different—leaning into the messy, relatable chaos of modern love.
The film’s original French title, Les Goûts et les Couleurs ("Tastes and Colors"), hints at its central question: Can love be defined by labels, or is it more fluid than society allows? Aziza’s script (which she also wrote) doesn’t shy away from the complexities of Simone’s predicament, blending comedy with moments of raw vulnerability.
Sarah Stern leads the film as Simone, a role that required balancing humor and emotional depth. Stern, known for her work in French TV and film, was joined by a mix of established and rising talent:
The chemistry between the actors likely played a key role in selling the film’s romantic and comedic beats, though behind-the-scenes details about rehearsals or improvisation aren’t confirmed in the evidence.
To Each, Her Own premiered in 2018 as a direct-to-video (DTV) release in France, a move that might have limited its initial buzz. On SensCritique, a French review aggregator, the film holds a modest 3.9/10 rating from nearly 1,000 votes—a mixed but not disastrous reception. Critics and audiences seemed to appreciate its lighthearted take on a serious topic, though some may have expected more bite from the premise.
The movie’s trailer (available on YouTube) teases its tone: playful, colorful, and unapologetically romantic. Whether it found its audience beyond France remains unclear, as international distribution details aren’t mentioned in the snippets.
Despite the film’s intriguing premise, the available evidence leaves gaps:
For now, the film’s legacy seems tied to its director’s broader filmography—a quiet, thoughtful addition to Aziza’s body of work.
To Each, Her Own might not have been a blockbuster, but it’s a snapshot of modern storytelling in French cinema. By centering a queer woman’s journey without reducing her to a stereotype, the film carves out space for nuanced representation. Whether it’s remembered as a cult favorite or a footnote in Aziza’s career, its themes of love, identity, and self-acceptance resonate beyond its runtime.
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