Not a bad finale for one of French cinema’s oddest couples.
To cast Jean Gabin and Alain Delon side by side is to invite a crash course in French cinema history.
We could all stand to learn the lessons of Rossellini and Bazin.
I will not skimp on sublimity. I will not skimp on sublimity.
The film’s theme is less the simplicity of religion than the religiosity of simplicity.
The film is all about bullies, PG-rated house parties, nerd-dunking, “That’s my boy” winking, and vapid teen romance.
No fragmented or psychedelic stone was left unturned in Suzuki’s genre demolition jobs.
Suzuki finds romance on the warfront, sacrificing none of his subversive edge, meth-delirium, and disjunctive lyricism.
Life is fucked up, Araki is saying, but it’s worth living.
The film has more than enough angst and alienation to go around.