I started with a good ol' light-hearted round of The Seven Year Itch, (That's a lie, I started with Extras, but, comic genius as it is, I couldn't sit through more than 2 episodes of awkwardness, shrieking at the tv alone. So I moved on.) but really, Marilyn, sexy as she was, was too grotesquely bimbotic and act-cute/blur for me to handle without a devastatingly handsome leading man. I gave it half an hour then switched it off in disgust.
(I know I said it was bad, but here, but it anyway.)
Right then, on to the French films. Because nothing says 'culture' like a film from the Continent.
To start? Belle Du Jour, starring Catherine Deneuve. But really, it was much to effed up for me to even try to understand. It's basically about the sexual perversions of this classy lady who won't sleep with her husband, has lots of rape fantasies, and so decides to become a secret daytime hooker. I think my biggest problem was my inability to distinguish dream-sequences from reality, but that's just because I'm thick and they didn't have the purple wavy frames like in Saved by the Bell. The sex scenes were, quite frankly, really awks and kinda fake, but I guess it was pretty magical for 1967. She, of course, is stunningly beautiful, but kind of reminded me of a blonde Adison Shephard. I think it's the face shape. Kind of square. Oh well and I guess it was nicely shot, very surreal and gritty blah blah contrast etc. But hey, if you can't appreciate the film for all its artay-fartayness, watch it for the LV wardrobe that Ms. Deneuve gets to wear. Tres chic! (Hur hur)
Annnd I have so much more to say that I'm going to do it in a new post.
No comments:
Post a Comment