Looks like our French Film Festival continues with this "landmark of progressive cinema." Uh-oh. A personal note: I love Modernism. I love ambiguous, difficult texts that attempt to replicate the complexity and absurdity of human thought. That is, I love it everywhere except in movies. I find it either witheringly obvious (looking at you, Citizen Kane) or intolerably pretentious (have a feeling I'll be looking at you, Last Year At Marienbad). This movie is an anti-narrative fable, complete with characters named only by letters, no temporal structure, and a screenplay more poetry than prose. Mon dieu.
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