A small-time thief steals a car and impulsively murders a motorcycle policeman. Wanted by the authorities, he reunites with a hip American journalism student and attempts to persuade her to run away with him to Italy.
Ferdinand Griffon, married to a wealthy Italian wife, has recently been fired from the television station where he worked. His wife forces him to go to a party at the home of her influential father, who wants to introduce him to a potential employer. Her brother brings babysitter Marianne Renoir to take care of their children. Feeling bored at the bourgeois party, Ferdinand borrows his brother-in-law's car to head home. He meets Marianne, who was his mistress five years ago and insists on calling him Pierrot, and offers to take her home. They spend the night together and he learns that she's involved in smuggling weapons. When terrorists chase her, they decide to leave Paris and his family behind and go on the run, on a crazy journey to nowhere.Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
On the French Studio Canal Blu-Ray release, the green tinting is missing in the party scenes near the beginning of the film. It is intact on the American Criterion Collection Blu-Ray release. See more »
Old Art-house that does not stand the test of time
Godard gets 2 for trying to be different, but this early sixties, experimental, existential (it has to be, doesn't it?), barely plotted, inexplicable jumble of ideas, off the cuff meanderings, and comments on what was happening in the world at the time just does not stand the test of time. It now looks mannered, pretentious, tedious, pseudo-philosophical (as if made for an in-crowd seminar critique by Jean Paul Sartre and his Left Bank Gitanes-smoking cronies), experimental colour-laden because the Director could fiddle about in homage to his European contemporaries mess of a film. Yes, Godard was revered, but 'Alphaville' and 'Breathless' were fit for cinema - this only bores you to tears with his self-indulgence masquerading as 'IMPORTANT' cinema. Belmondo survives everything, and he does here, effortlessly reading philosophy at the same time as coolly romancing an out-of-reach femme fatale. Some of the sixties cinema was crap on reflection - and this is prime off-colour rump.
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