The distinct Frenchness of this film saves its outlandishness of needing any explanation or justification. If you don’t know what I mean by Frenchness, go watch a film like Pierrot le fou. I’m not comparing the two, but this embodies the same sort of hyperbolic storytelling, which for all intents and purposes, is completely divorced of any true realism. Honestly, I think it’s sort of a retort to the Cahiers and a defiance of the idea that cinema is a direct mirror of reality. With cinema, the director’s hands can make anything can happen, and the more insane (and the sexier...) the better. Steeped in sex, fanciful scenarios, Benoit Magimel’s straight bangs, and intimate dialogues in bed with a statue head, what’s not to love?
The distinct Frenchness of this film saves its outlandishness of needing any explanation or justification. If you don’t know what I mean by Frenchness, go watch a film like Pierrot le fou. I’m not comparing the two, but this embodies the same sort of hyperbolic storytelling, which for all intents and purposes, is completely divorced of any true realism. Honestly, I think it’s sort of a retort to the Cahiers and a defiance of the idea that cinema is a direct mirror of reality. With cinema, the director’s hands can make anything can happen, and the more insane (and the sexier...) the better. Steeped in sex, fanciful scenarios, Benoit Magimel’s straight bangs, and intimate dialogues in bed with a statue head, what’s not to love?
