My Brain Hurts Mr. Godard
Watched 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her in class last night.
Godard. French New Wave.
French New Wave requires a tremendous amount of mental energy. You can't watch passively. It requires all or nothing of its viewer.
With a few exceptions, every time I sit down to a French New Wave film, I always want to run from the room, clutching my cranium. I'm convinced it is residual pain from being forced to watch Godard's Weekend as an undergrad.
And then something weird happens. My antenna catches the signal. My breathing regulates and stabilizes. My cinematic reset button gets pushed and suddenly I find myself hypnotized.