Okay, hands down: this is quite possibly one of the most boring movies I've ever seen. And I love everything I've seen by Godard till now: I love the madness of "Weekend", the free-spiritedness of "Masculin, féminin", the colours of "Pierrot le fou" and "Le mépris". Supposedly, according to some critics, this one has it all: great cinematography (which, admittedly, it has), great story, great film in and of itself.
Now: the story. What story? There's no story in here. Believe me, I sat for all ninety minutes trying to figure out what the hell was going on. For the most of the time, you either see a woman speaking directly to the camera (and the women look good, but they bore me immensely) or a collage of non-related shots narrated by someone who likes whispering (his whisper actually reminds me of the unseen killer in some of Dario Argento's pictures and it is in fact one of the coolest things about this picture). Nothing in this picture makes it all glue together. I can sort of try to trace a story in here, but it's just a waste of time because even then, the story is about as minimal as it can get, and from what I see, merely an excuse to blabber on about existential and political philosophy. Worthless brouhaha, that's what it is. Nothing ever really happens, and I tried to stay focused till the movie ended when I finally sighed of relief.
These are the same philosophies that Godard introduced in "Alphaville", but when there's only philosophy and not a trace of a good, cohesive plot or a drama, this movie should have been reduced to, and I'm being generous, an essay. That would have been interesting. This isn't. The greatest scene in this picture occurs when the protagonist enters a café and the narrator speaks about cosmos and various other interestingly universal things when Raoul Coutard, Godard's cinematographer, zooms in on the contents of the café visitors' coffee cups. It looks amazing, and the movie should be seen only for this particular scene; the rest is up to you, but I'll pass on this one. It's too heavy, too abstract, it's art, and presumably very intelligent. But it doesn't get me going at all, and it tries to maintain my interest, but fails miserably for the most of the time. Not good.
Now: the story. What story? There's no story in here. Believe me, I sat for all ninety minutes trying to figure out what the hell was going on. For the most of the time, you either see a woman speaking directly to the camera (and the women look good, but they bore me immensely) or a collage of non-related shots narrated by someone who likes whispering (his whisper actually reminds me of the unseen killer in some of Dario Argento's pictures and it is in fact one of the coolest things about this picture). Nothing in this picture makes it all glue together. I can sort of try to trace a story in here, but it's just a waste of time because even then, the story is about as minimal as it can get, and from what I see, merely an excuse to blabber on about existential and political philosophy. Worthless brouhaha, that's what it is. Nothing ever really happens, and I tried to stay focused till the movie ended when I finally sighed of relief.
These are the same philosophies that Godard introduced in "Alphaville", but when there's only philosophy and not a trace of a good, cohesive plot or a drama, this movie should have been reduced to, and I'm being generous, an essay. That would have been interesting. This isn't. The greatest scene in this picture occurs when the protagonist enters a café and the narrator speaks about cosmos and various other interestingly universal things when Raoul Coutard, Godard's cinematographer, zooms in on the contents of the café visitors' coffee cups. It looks amazing, and the movie should be seen only for this particular scene; the rest is up to you, but I'll pass on this one. It's too heavy, too abstract, it's art, and presumably very intelligent. But it doesn't get me going at all, and it tries to maintain my interest, but fails miserably for the most of the time. Not good.
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