A silent film with only a quotation from Beckett off-screen at the critical moment ; a film of behavior, at the end of which the protagonist one Sunday afternoon starts shooting at a crowd of people heading toward the stadium.
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A "sympathetic" nouvelle-vaguish film, especially by his mute and improvised side, but quickly one feels thta is an essay on something from "outside", too often experienced. I should mention the intelligence with which the quotes (yet also debtor of something already too common in "new cinema") are included and its beautiful cinematography.