Not only are their characters befuddling, but the interactions between these two are also constantly soured by their bitter, antagonistic relationship. One of the most frustrating aspects of the film, no matter how many times I watch it, are the characters of Raymond Dufayel – the Glass Man – and Lucien, the grocer's dim-witted right-hand man. How come she can have sex with a guy but not talk to a guy? Halfway through, the film attempts to handwave this away by explaining that she simply can't talk to men she's in love with, but she's not in love with Bretodeau and she manages to nod and smirk at him. Surely someone truly painfully shy would have extreme difficulty doing any of this, and would probably just stay home and consider the whole affair a pointless and gainless ruse. She chases strangers all over the city in her restless search for Dominique Bretodeau – and is shown dating and engaging in intimate relations with men almost immediately in the film. She goes to work and talks gaily and eagerly to her neighbors. The biggest and most obvious conflict – one that the film literally hinges its conflict upon – is that it's simply not true.
The film asserts that the 23-year-old is too shy and too fanciful to deal with a "reality check," instead choosing to explore her inner worlds and her boundless imagination.
The first problem has to do with the supposed "shyness" of Amélie and her painful hesitancy to engage with the real world.
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