Reseñas de la crítica

The film ushers in an approach to filmmaking that continues to the present day with work such as Adieu au langage (Goodbye to Language, 2015), whose title bears uncanny echoes with the fin de conte declaration of the 1967 film. Weekend, then, is a film of rupture, one of the most spectacular ripostes to the cinema in the history of the medium.

The thieving, cannibalistic hippie revolutionaries of in the film's concluding stretch are hardly painted as beacons that will point society in the right direction; they're just yet another panel in Godard's mosaic, a black-comic cry of disgust at a society broken beyond repair.

Weekend is, above all else, an angry film, perhaps the most vitriolic condemnation of contemporary culture ever penned, an emphatic and resounding fuck-you to late capitalism, consumerism, and the widespread complacency they so readily inspire.

A merciless excoriation of the mercenary logic of bourgeois sexuality and marriage, WEEKEND is an exhilarating document of the social and political frustrations that were about to erupt so powerfully.

Dramatizing homicidal conflict in the context of inexplicable, matter-of-fact social disaster, Godard's unrelenting, consistently inventive farrago of grim humor, revolutionary rhetoric, coolly staged hysteria, and universal aggression is pure '68, an art-house analog to its contemporary, George Romero's Night of the Living Dead, and one of four new releases forbidden to Catholics by the National Legion of Decency.

Apart from its admirable set pieces, Weekend tends to disintegrate into witless bourgeois-baiting and coy Pirandellianism. Godard has destroyed the notion of beginning, middle, and end by shooting everything in existential sequence, so that his films do not so much end as stop. The disadvantage of this approach even for Godard is becoming increasingly apparent. Godard seldom has any kick left for the last lap.