No, you don’t, because I’m not done! L’Amour des Hommes fares considerably worse in this regard, as the goal is ‘to take pictures of men’. The twist coming from nowhere – is that she then proceeds to…take pictures of men.
A potentially interesting tale, as turning around male gaze (ahem – Sonny’s Virtues – ahem) has some heft to it. It meanders and then ends, but it took Eva for me to understand where these films come from: experience.
I hate experience, almost as much as I hate real life. The underlying of a having a writer character (or artists in general) is that we’re seeing the filmmaker, uninspired in every sense of the word, is relating things that happened to them. He saw a prostitute once. Good for him! She took some pictures? Who would have thought? In the end, she breaks up with the guy because…it’s the end of the movie, I guess, and we have to symbolize female emancipation without the actual trouble of writing it.
Our lives are not interesting. It’s why we see movies. What we avoid in real life we seek in films, and vice-versa. Stories are lies but glorious ones, made even more absurd by our attempts to live them out ourselves. [messy. ]
Profits! There’s a nice observed moment where the lead continues the ritual of washing the car of her dead boyfriend. It’s a way of communicating a feeling through action…$2.00 Total Profits $2.00 Losses …that the rest of the film fails to know how to do. $4.00 Total Losses $4.00