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Title: Mauvais Sang (1986)
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| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Michel Piccoli | ... | Marc | |
| Juliette Binoche | ... | Anna | |
| Denis Lavant | ... | Alex | |
| Hans Meyer | ... | Hans | |
| Julie Delpy | ... | Lise | |
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Carroll Brooks | ... | The American woman |
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Hugo Pratt | ... | Boris |
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Mireille Perrier | ... | The young mother |
| Serge Reggiani | ... | Charlie | |
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Jérôme Zucca | ... | Thomas |
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Paul Handford | ||
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Charles Schmitt | ||
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François Négret | ||
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Philippe Fretun | ||
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Thomas Peckre | ||
Marc (Michel Piccoli) recruits Alex (Denis Lavant), son of his former, now dead colleague. Alex is a card shark with a big dream to go out to the world and leave his own mark. His determination leads him to break up with his girl friend, Lise (Julie Deply). Alex initially refuses to help Marc and Hans for their "job" of stealing the culture of new drug. But Anna (Juliette Binoche)'s charm and beauty were irresistible. Alex joins the elders. Alex's dance to David Bowie's Modern Love illustrates unfolding emotions of young Alex moving into an adult (graying if not dying) world. The interplay among the generations, between genders, among social classes, memory and hopes, all played against black and white and occasional red back drop. Anna's cobalt blue robe punctuates the moment when Alex confesses his love for her. Written by lucidwisdom@gmail.com
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On the whole this is typical artsy-fartsy film-making. Interesting visual ideas are clustered with mucho highbrow babbling so that you can brand it something like "post-modern cinema" to look cleverer than you are.
Actually a bunch of visual ideas are much more interesting than the rest so it's not only the dialogue which spoils the art house soup. And that's why I won't hesitate in calling this pretentious auteur stuff: most images are just plain self-conscious (cleverly framed for art's sake - call it experimental cinema if you like, I say it's simply annoying), pseudo-poetical situations and lines (pure Godard-style) and a big inscrutable vacuum all over the place (plot construction is too vulgar a thing for artists to spoil their hands with it).
Next time I'll try Ed Wood's Plan 9 from outer space. At least I won't laugh to forget how much I'm bored.