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Apparently he was commsissioned to make this for the 2011 Viennale, and probably I’m posting something that a) everybody’s already seen already and b) everybody already knows is some kind of almost self-parodic absurdly creepy stuttering anti-narrative larded with semi-ominous signs & symbols intended either to make fun of himself or of us. Or both. In other words: like everything else David Lynch does. And I like it anyway.

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I wrote a whole essay urging a reassessment of Sofia Coppola’s critically-maligned post Lost In Translation films to go with this screen-cap from Marie Antoinette (2006), but the more I look at the screen-cap, the more I realize that nothing I could write would be nearly as persuasive as the image above. Cop-out? Peut-être, mais au fond je m’en fous.

 

 

 

JLG, some guy, Bardot: Studios Victorine, Nice, 1963

“Jean-Luc Godard isn’t the only one who films the way he breathes, but he breathes the best.”

– François Truffaut, L’Avant-Scène, 1967

Source: The Criterion Collection

…and that nation is Belgium. Although France probably ain’t too happy, either (but then, they’ve got their own problems).

 

The French newspaper L’Express has on the occasion of the 64th Cannes Film Festival put up a collection of all 64 Cannes Film Festival posters on their website, here.

The poster above, for the 1961 festival, is one of my favorites, but almost all of them are pretty great. This one was designed by A.M. Rodicq.

In case you were wondering, the Palme D’Or went that year to two films ex aequo: Luis Bunuel’s Viridiana, and Henri Colpi’s Une aussi longue absence.

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Two books and one DVD that you should not hesitate to buy/rent/steal:

These movies don’t need my recommendation, but the collection itself, with its wealth of extras and (as always) immaculate transfers, is worth its weight in a precious metal slightly less expensive than gold but more expensive than silver. I don’t know what that metal is, but if you find out: bingo!

 

Jean-Patrick Manchette wrote more than just these two masterpieces of existentialist French noir, but these two are my favorite. Both are available in English. Fatale from NYRB in an indifferent translation, and La position du tireur couché (as The Prone Gunman) in a better translation from City Lights Noir. If you can read French, you should. Manchette has been described as Guy Debord meets Rayond Chandler, and while that’s both reductive and inaccurate, it’s not entirely wrong.