Rarement film n'aura véhiculé un tel galimatias émétique et indigeste, oscillant constamment entre pitoyable pédanterie verbeuse, consternante naïveté sénile et récurrente mauvaise foi dilatoire. Car si l'homme "n'est qu'un ridicule accident de la nature", dixit le vieux et docte bonhomme, cette production n'est qu'une insondable et risible aberration dans la vaste cinématographie française. www.cinefiches.com
Despite its very poor cinematic means (bad plotline, poor dialogue, flat characters), the movie works like a funambulist, always on the verge of ridicule. However, the use of the off-camera space and the emphasis on the voice of the actors is really clever. And its subject matter (the power of desire as a revealer of an absolute, hidden behind the day to day life) is a powerful one, addressed by Cronenberg or Bunuel.
Aimless and ultimately pointless, with so much rambling about metaphisics that you start to wonder if the freshman-level pontification is as much in aid of getting the director off as the questionably consensual sex. Given Brisseau's past, it's hard not to see this as another excuse for him to pay actresses to go to town on one another without just plain going straight for porn.
This is a film that likes to look at women. It also asks some questions about how we live our lives. I'm not certain it answers them. It's mostly to do with free will, and the choices we make that enslave us, and the possibilities of pleasure in slavery. I watched most of it on the London Underground in rush hour and occasionally thought about switcing it off because it just looked like porn. But I didn't.
A terrible car crash between Rohmer-esque musings on life and truly dreadful soft porn. Nothing and nobody emerges unscathed from this disaster with the possible exception of the taxi driver. Condolences to all involved and their extended families. Really very bad indeed.
This is no masterpiece. Some of the criticism exposed by the other viewers is certainly justified however, I believe that any piece of fine cinema has to be able to transport you to a certain place and time. I feel this film does and in fact I felt myself morbidly checking on some of the shooting locations. Bonjour Tristesse interestingly displays similar failures and virtues albeit in a completely different style.
A male heterosexual fantasy (no cocks on display) like an old porn film where there used to be dialogue linking sex acts, but here the talk is about the universe so it's a bit like watching Carl Sagan with lesbians. Beautiful swooning girls hypnotised and gagging for it, it's all a bit rapey, I can't deny it gave me the horn.
Like watching a film made by a spoiled 19-year-old who thinks he's a genius auteur. Ridiculous unnatural dialogue, stilted direction and laughable use of music. The penultimate scene made me want to take the director by the lapels and shake him until he tearfully admitted his crimes against cinema.