I want to know why the heck I keep watching movies by Jean-Luc Godard. I've reached the "whatever came over me?" part of my netflix queue. At some point, for some unknown reason, I added a bunch of Godard's films to my list, and now I'm having to intersperse them with movies I understand, just to keep me sane. Godard's movies make me feel like an idiot. They don't make sense to me. I feel like I spend the entire movie saying to myself, Why? Why? Why? Here's an example from this movie, said by the title character (whose name is actually Ferdinand) to Marianne, his lover and partner in crime: "It's a good thing I don't like spinach . . . because if I did, I'd eat it . . . and I can't stand the stuff. It's the same with you . . . only just the opposite." Mmmm . . . OK. The entire movie is this way!
Here's something interesting I noticed: about 45 minutes into the movie, right where the female voice-over says "Chapter Seven," there is a shot of the sand on a beach. After a moment, a leg pokes up out of it, then two, then two more, and you realize Marianne and Pierrot have buried themselves in the sand. This reminded me of a similar scene in Sex and Lucia, where you think you're just looking at sand, and then someone rises up out of it. (It's been a while since I've seen that one, so I don't remember who it was, or even if it was more than one person). By the way, Sex and Lucia is a much better movie than this one. It's not an entirely straightforward movie, and you have to think to be able to follow it, but at least it makes sense.
So, go watch Sex and Lucia instead of Pierrot Le Fou. Meanwhile, remind me never to paint my face blue and wrap my head in dynamite.
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