I saw a movie once. It was pretty neat.
Now look: I'm NOT saying that this made me discover my fetish for one-armed women trying to eat strawberry ice cream in nothing but a button-up shirt, BUT what I am saying is it may or may not have briefly activated the "Unga Bunga" part of my brain
Unfocused, messy, and doesn't really know what it wants to be. You could say that perfectly reflects the state of mind of the subject matters of this film, but I believe it to be incidental (knowing the troubles of this production) rather than intentional.
It starts off strong with a surprisingly nostalgia-inducing montage of friends hanging out, spitting the shit, and just enjoying being around each other. This eventually, and unfortunately, devolves into random vignettes of the characters just doing…
It finally happened. Godard became what I feared he'd be when I decided to dive into his filmography: Artsy Nothing. This film, like many of Godard's other films up to this point, mainly consists of characters walking around a room repeating the same stuff over and over again. The main difference with this film is how cut, dry, and standard it is.
With Breathless and A Woman and is A Woman, there was at least a playful energy to those…