Starring Félix de Givry. In French and English, with English subtitles. Rated 14A.

The highly kinetic Eden covers two decades in the life of a Paris DJ. It was directed by Mia Hansen-Løve and written with her brother, Sven, a key figure in the Paris club scene of the ’90s.

Only 34, Hansen-Løve (which is not the name of Beck’s official fan club) previously handled such memory-laden fare as Farewell First Love and Father of My Children. She cast blandly handsome newcomer Félix de Givry as Paul, the film’s stand-in for her disc-spinning sibling.

When we meet him, in 1992, he’s still living with his brusque, semi-bohemian mother, played by Canada’s great Arsinée Khanjian, and trying to figure out what to do next. He enjoys his music-mad pals, including the duo that would become Daft Punk, an older mentor (Vincent Macaigne) who could have stepped out of a ’70s Truffaut movie, and, of course, girls who like DJs.

The beautifully shot tale follows his career trajectory, as Paul’s crowd explores the disco-inflected sound known as garage (after the soulful styles favoured at Larry Levan’s Paradise Garage, in pre–AIDS Manhattan). With well-known DJs and performers appearing as themselves and technology constantly changing (remember DAT?), this arc culminates with Paul participating in an epic 2001 gig at New York City’s PS1.

Paul’s love life has similar ups and downs, with a through-line provided by his intermittent affair with pouty Louise (Belgium’s Pauline Étienne). He pursues her to get over a failed romance with an American expat (a surprisingly stiff Greta Gerwig). Later, he goes after an inaccessible rich girl (Laura Smet) and settles for a troubled hustler played by Iran’s Golshifteh Farahani, currently seen in About Elly. He also spends too much time and money on booze, cigarettes, and cocaine.

Eden has a sobriety problem of its own, but in the other direction. At 131 minutes, the tale too often feels like it’s dutifully crossing off the pages of Sven Hansen-Løve’s period journals. But in the end you’re left with the palpable sense of a youth gradually passing, with music ringing loudly in its ears.