They razz each other about films, cartoons, nothing in particular, but always the gun hovers over them like a death sentence, the black-and-white focal point for all the hatred they meet with, and all they can give back. Vinz hangs out with Hubert (Koundé) and Saïd (Taghmaoui). Twenty-four hours in the Paris projects: an Arab boy is critically wounded in hospital, gut-shot, and a police revolver has found its way into the hands of a young Jewish skinhead, Vinz (Cassel), who vows to even the score if his pal dies. This is a wild-eyed cross-processing of artistic, political and personal concerns, with a story that stutters, splinters and infuriates its way to an explosive finale. As their relationship begins to fray, it all goes horribly wrong. They converse in disjointed, inhumanly droll patter, duff up gas station attendants and eagerly concoct a new civilisation on a deserted beach. They head to the south of France in a hail of gunfire and Gauloises. We’re launched into the lunatic orbit of Belmondo’s Ferdinand and Anna Karina’s Marianne: Each is an impulsive, alienated, despairing soul who finds solace in the other’s desire for chaos and withdrawal. In one word: Emotions.’ His succinct and, let’s be honest, utterly hip rejoinder fluently captures what we’re about to undergo with Godard’s mischievous tenth film, ‘Pierrot le Fou’. Fuller replies: ‘Film is like a battleground. Jean-Paul Belmondo mooches up to Samuel Fuller at a party and, naturally, asks him his thoughts on cinema. In the leading role, Dutronc displays a physical frailty and stooped sadness that complements Pialat’s beautiful, poignant images. There’s no attempt to trace the origins and development of his ‘creative genius’ nor, avoiding the hazards of biopic cliché, does it seek to illuminate these dark corners of his subject’s troubled soul. However, his ill health, a brief return to the debauchery of brothels and drink, and his irrational resentment of his brother Theo’s failure to sell his work, provoke erratic swings from brooding introspection to frustrated anger. Living in Auvers-sur-Oise with his sensitive and knowledgeable patron Gachet (Sety), van Gogh (Dutronc) works quietly and steadily, meanwhile flirting with Gachet’s precocious daughter Marguerite (London). This stunningly photographed and skilfully acted film uses an accretion of naturalistic detail to present an emotionally restrained but utterly compelling account of the last three months of van Gogh’s life. □ The 101 best sex scenes in movies of all-time Written by Tom Huddleston, Geoff Andrew, Dave Calhoun, Cath Clarke, Trevor Johnston, Joshua Rothkopf, Keith Uhlich and Matthew Singer Whether you’re a card-carrying, beret-wearing Nouvelle Vague nut or just a big fan of Amélie, you’re going to find something to pique your interest on this list of the best French films released between 19. But if you’re looking for a place to start, we’ve got 100 options right here for you. Diving deep enough to take in the full breadth of that influence can be daunting, though. In truth, few countries can claim to have had such a consistent influence over global moviemaking as France. But once you really start digging into the French film canon, you’ll discover it’s not all cigarettes, existentialism and jump cuts. Hell, for New Wave pioneers like Jean-Luc Godard and Agnès Varda, challenging – and sometimes angering – the audience was a point of pride. And well, yeah, a lot of it is exactly like that. It’ll be loaded with philosophical musings, insufferable characters and arty embellishments, and generally be impossible to follow. For many people, if a film was made in France, the assumption is that it will be impossible to access. It’s not simply a descriptor of the geographical origins of a particular movie, but often a euphemism for pretension. In popular culture, ‘French film’ is a loaded term.
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