Not a film about an ageing woman but about a man dying of cancer. How come all the praise, the awards, the commercial success and the admiring critiques and reviews,

I tend to agree with Peter Bradshaw (The Guardian 20/02/2004) and not waste my time:

grotesquely overpraised,   Everything is shot through with middlebrow sophistication, boorish cynicism, unfunny satire, a dash of fatuous anti-Americanism and unthinkingly reactionary sexual politics – all of which utterly cancels out the movie’s final petition for sympathy on behalf of its leading character, Rémy (Rémy Girard) the left-ish academic womaniser from the original film.

More than this all the characters are conceited, smug, pompous, crass. But what infuriated me in this highly gendered film is the nasty sex talk,  the underlying sexism and the tear jerker end…

I must admit one image that I found truthful is the messy, chaotic hospital atmosphere. A thought experiment: replace  Remy by  a woman in the last days of her life.