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Au hasard Balthazar (1966)
I'll never endure the tortuous ordeal of another Bresson film
Inanity, unforgivable cinematic stasis, and amateurish film-making and acting reach a turgid apotheosis In AU HASARD BALTHAZAR. Bresson knew nothing of pacing, or at least when to tell his editor "Enough with the lingering, already, on this take!", judging from this film and the equally leaden MOUCHETTE which I caught on a double-bill. Neither film elicited any significant emotional catharsis from this viewer except snorts of derision, moans of "Get on with it," and hosannas when the films had finally, mercifully ended. The ludicrousness comes to a head in BALTHAZAR when the boorish Gerard trashes the town bar--smashing mirrors, bottles, glasses, etc.--and not a single patron registers the chaos, but instead keep dancing. And then we see the barkeep sweeping up after him as Gerard and his pal step outside to ceaselessly light more M-80s. This is but one example. What!?!?! Stop the nonsense! For all you lamebrain Bresson lovers out there--tant pis: I walked out of the equally dull DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST, too, years ago. People, the French emperor has no clothes. For all our sakes stop praising Bresson's hopelessly dull, empty headed, overrated oeuvre and let it fade into cinematic history oblivion.