The Bride Wore Black (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Francois Truffaut admired the films of Hitchcock, but his thriller The Bride Wore Black (1968) is certainly more Truffaut than Hitchcock, which is wise.  However, this is the only good thing about the movie—an utterly lousy one.  It is much, much sillier than Truffaut’s The Woman Next Door, which nevertheless manages to satisfy.  Bride only manages to make us chuckle in disbelief, and somehow makes even Jeanne Moreau look (histrionically) bad.

Cover of M*A*S*H (Widescreen Edition)

The fools among us are desecrating the monuments to Robert E. Lee, Thomas Jefferson and others.  I agree with the writer for The Federalist website who propounded that these monuments “mark our progress as a nation,” but this would never occur to the fools.  It’s only a matter of time in fact before they start destroying, if they can, massive copies of the Robert Altman movie, M*A*S*H.  This 1970 work is not only anti-military and anti-religion, it also denigrates homosexuals; and numerous young vandals won’t tolerate that.  For my part, I have never liked M*A*S*H, but I wouldn’t respect any grand removal of it from American venues.

Carl Theodore Dreyer‘s Ordet (“The Word”, 1955) is tedious and too theatrical—it is adapted from a play—but also sufficiently strange to end with an astonishing miracle the likes of which humanity never sees anymore.  The film shows us the persistence of religious faith despite what life does to ordinary hopes and pursuits:  possessing a sane mind, having a healthy family, getting married.  But it shows us, too, a madman who thinks he is Jesus Christ before he recovers his sanity (unlikely) performing the aforementioned miracle.  He necessarily performs it through the power of Jesus Christ (and certainly not through his own power).  Dreyer seems to believe that because God is able to create the universe, He can also work any kind of miracle, and he’s right.  His approach for conveying this, however, is not very palatable.

Cover of CQ

In the late Sixties, Roger Vadim directed Barbarella.  In the late Sixties of the movie, CQ (2001), a young film editor named Paul directs Dragonfly, a silly sci-fi picture with a toothsome heroine.  Like Barbarella.

This the debut feature of Roman Coppola (Francis’ son) takes place in Paris and blithely examines the fine arts of making cinematic mediocrity and pining, or half-pining, for a beautiful woman.  The mediocrity subsists not only in Dragonfly but also in the personal, Godardian picture Paul is privately shooting on the side.  The beautiful woman is the supermodel playing the sci-fi heroine.  The problem is that Paul has a French girlfriend, frustrated and sometimes scrappy, whom he is neglecting.  (Paul himself is an American.)  CQ, which is code for “Seek You,” is good at exposing an ignorant young man’s romantic limbo, his aimlessness.

Although it has little wit or insight, the film is fizzy and unusual.  I wish it were better acted.  Both Jeremy Davies (Paul) and Angela Lindvall (the supermodel) are colorless.  Jason Schwartzman was good in Rushmore but not in this.  In contrast, Elodie Bouchez blisters and delights as the French girlfriend, and Billy Zane pleases drolly as a cast member of Dragonfly.  Sturdy Gerard Depardieu is also on hand.  Coppola penned as well as directed this Gallic curio, made in English, and unwittingly pays homage to the most cordial of French-American relations.  You don’t mind watching snow fall on the moon before getting to that homage, do you?