Megamind
To all those who have watched it: I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do.
Invaderbank
The film creates a perfect balance between action and depth of basic needs, in the midst of an infertile atmosphere.
Donald Seymour
This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.
finetunes
Normally, I would give this caliber of movie a zero number of stars but for 2 monumental artistic choices the director made. It earns a 1/2 star for nudity and another 1/2 star for being in color!!!! I'll say no more about this movie for fear of wasting any more valuable time. OK, I have to pad this review to get it published, so, I'll close by saying this about that. - "Phewy"Confucius says "Movie with no plot can have no spoiler".
Musashi94
Godard films can be broken into two periods: before Pierrot le Fou and after Pierrot le Fou. Before, the French iconoclast was still somewhat concerned with narrative coherence; afterwards, not so much. As such, Pierrot le Fou occupies an interesting spot in his filmography as it bridges the two periods. It has a conventional plot like his earlier work, but the style is much closer to the experimental efforts that comprise the vast majority of his post-1965 output. So how does it all fit together?The narrative here is very flimsy: out protagonist Ferdinand just sort of gets swept along with Marianne's cross-country crime spree without much in the way of explanation after two brief scenes of conversation. This is not atypical for Godard, but even here we're given little justification for why the characters do anything. Ferdinand is apparently dissatisfied with his bourgeoisie lifestyle which is conveyed solely by a rather bizarre party sequence while Marianne is just a whirlwind in human form.Once the characters are on the road, the plot starts and stops randomly with plenty of scenes consisting of characters sitting around and talking about sophisticated things, a Godardian trademark. But there are also several scenes of the duo just messing around. Of the later, there is a rather offensive scene where Marianne and Ferdinand put on a skit about the Americans' current involvement in Vietnam. Marianne wears what is essentially yellow-face, Ferdinand garbles out something in broken English and the message basically boils down to "Americans are violent buffoons." I don't take offense at anti-Americanism per say (a lot of it is deserved) so much as the presentation of it and this particular scene feels crude and childish.Eventually the narrative develops into a plot involving gangsters pursuing the duo and Marianne betraying Ferdinand by running away with her real boyfriend. It just feels tacked on. Given Godard shot the whole film with no script, it's not exactly surprising and this incoherence seems to be intentional. I can't really say I'm a fan however. Nonetheless, the ending, where Ferdinand paints his face blue and blows himself up only to regret it at the last moment, is very well done and rightfully remains one of the French New Wave's most iconic moments.Stylistically the film is also a mixed bag. On the positive end of things, the film looks gorgeous. Rarely have I seen colors look so vibrant and as expressive as I've seen here. On the other hand, the dialogue gets repetitive very quickly, Ferdinand says some iteration of "My name is Ferdinand" after Marianne calls him Pierrot close to a dozen times which gets annoying. The breaking of the fourth wall, while cute at first, gets tiresome the more Godard does it. The cutaways to Ferdinand's poetry are also rather irritating especially since it adds nothing to the film unless you're fluent in French.Overall, Pierrot le Fou is a rather messy blending of Godard's narrative and experimental styles that has some nice highlights to it, but can be a bit of a slog to get through unless you just happen to really love Godard and the French New Wave. I personally enjoy the visual aspects of the film but the cerebral parts of it ended up leaving me cold. Even so, it's still entertaining enough for me to give it a hesitantly positive rating.
reasonablyniceperson
Regardless of what you will hear from pompous leftist professors in your Film Studies classes, kiddies, Jean-Luc Godard's "Pierrot le Fou" is really nothing more than an egotistical exercise in cinematic masturbation. That would be acceptable for a movie made for private viewing at home, but when it is released in public theaters it also becomes exhibitionism. Of course if you enjoy this kind of voyeurism it might be right up your alley, so to speak. All others should be warned. 'Ooh, look at me,' Godard seems to be saying. 'I'm an artiste, and a philosopher too! Not only can I juxtapose reality with surreality, I can be absurdist as well, with doses of deep Marxist commentary thrown in for good measure! Isn't that like, so cool, and revolutionary?" Uh, no. Not really, Jean-Luc.It is movies like this that give so-called "art house" films and filmgoers a bad name. When I overheard a couple of obnoxious self-styled cineastes analyzing and deconstructing the film afterwards with references to Roland Barthes and Jacques Derrida I almost wanted to puke.The best directors do not purposely draw attention to themselves, their craft or their directing style because they realize that, aside from documentaries, good filmmaking is primarily about one thing - telling a story in the best possible way. If you have to sit through this movie in Film Class bring a barf bag and some NoDoze. To cleanse your cinematic palate when you get home enjoy a movie made by directors like Frank Capra, Preston Sturges or even Clint Eastwood with a bag of popcorn or a box of Raisinets.
badajoz-1
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.
