Frederique (Huppert) leaves her family's small-town trout farm to embark on an journey taking her to Japan and into the arms of a man. Irritations concerning her actions and present state ... See full summary »
What is real and what is fiction? Faced with writer's block with his novel, Lewis Fielding turns to a film script about a woman finding herself after his wife Elizabeth returns from Baden ... See full summary »
Paris, 1942. Robert Klein cannot find any fault with the state of affairs in German-occupied France. He has a well-furnished flat, a mistress, and business is booming. Jews facing ... See full summary »
From back-breaking labour in the coal mines, Tyvian Jones, a masculine and crude man from Wales, finds himself among the artistic and glamorous people at the Venice Film Festival, cashing out his very first novel's big success, "L'Étranger en Enter". Tyvian is also engaged to the charming and frail Francesca; however, when she has to fly to Rome, he will return to his cottage in Torcello, only to find there the blonde and seductively mysterious Eva occupying his place. Until now, no woman had such an effect on Tyvian, as Eva's dangerously feminine physique soaked from the night's heavy downpour, will instantly taunt, tempt, and seduce his arrogant ego beyond reason. Sooner or later, Tyvian will accept the fact that he stands powerless before this heartless modern Circe, but in the meantime, what will become of innocent Francesca who is now trapped in the middle?Written by
Truffaut muse Jeanne Moreau was one of the sexiest women in cinema. Her features were unnaturally glamorous: the dark eyes that registered anything but passivity, eyebrows always slightly furrowed, upturned mouth will full, sensuous lips. She's on fire here; thus, her Eva transcends this material. Miss Moreau fills every scene with a physicality that looks almost choreographed yet not rehearsed. She's raw carnality personified. Combining that quality with a careless self-consciousness make it easy for one to see what's missing in today's female actors. Louise Brooks had it. Jessica Lange had it in The Postman Always Rings Twice. But nobody else really. The film itself hasn't held up unless you're a film scholar or part of the intellectual art house crowd. Characters register pain by pressing a cheek against whatever wall comes their way and letting their jaw go slack. A myriad of sixties kitsch fill the screen: white masks, fur blankets, overdubbing, a jazz-scat score, and a fishtank image Mike Nichols must have borrowed for The Graduate. We even see a character face her obsession and say with fervor, "I love you! I love you! I love you!" while they have breakfast on a piazza. I've used the term 'dated' in other reviews and I'm beginning to frustrate myself. It's an easy buzzword (like co-dependent or brilliant); sometimes it has a place but mostly I find it insulting and the wrong word to use for Eva. But the film is intellectual camp.
22 of 29 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?
| Report this