Monday, December 01, 2003

Lucienne and I capitulated, purchasing gut-ravaging snacks (orange soda pop, plain potato chips, and gummy bears), but vindicated ourselves by renting, and watching, the 2001 Jean-Luc Godard film, In Praise Of Love earlier tonight. The film surprised me for a number of reasons, and not simply because Godard managed to subdue his usual paranthetical obsession with asides for a more conversational and French tone, but also because Godard (though never known as a practictioner of subtlety) didn't make any attempts to mask his contempt for Steven Speilberg and tied it so perfectly in with American ahistorical cultural cannibalism in a concise and devestating scene in the second segment of the film. The colours in the second segment are particularly startling, and brings to mind a statement made by Robert Altman that cinema should ideally be more akin to painting than literature.

Official Site hated it
The Globe & Mail

Recent Music Purchases
Al Green - MusicClub Collection... Liner notes by Mojo staffwriter.
Rufus Wainwright - Want One... Devestating and excessively orchestrated. Baroque, but melancholic.
Spiritualized - Let It Come Down... Still absorbing.

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