I’ve heard several sources refer to A Woman is a Woman as the warmest, most accessible film in Godard’s body of work, and I’m not sure why. Yes, it’s less discursive, academic, and political than the rest of his 60s films, but it’s just as distancing and hardly less impenetrable. If anything, it shows how being accessible really isn’t Godard’s strong point. Given Godard’s penchant for experimentation—and the way he works without a script—the plot doesn’t really sustain intrigue, and unlike such denser works as Pierrot le fou and Contempt, it doesn’t have the benefit of adding up to anything with intellectual or emotional weight. This is not to say there aren’t pleasures, because there are: the back-alley “dance” scene, the opening credits, Godard’s love of wordplay, and Belmondo and Karina. But they’re an island chain, stretched out in a row without connecting. There’s no easy way into Godard—loving him can start with hating him—and A Woman is a Woman is a slight entry in his 60s run.