ipatievmurroomI took his necklace off my neck today. I thought I was choking. I took off the ankle bracelet too, afraid that I might lose my balance once again.

I don’t know what to do with them really. So I put them in their boxes and put the boxes on a shelf I never go to. To give them back I would have to see him. I already know how easily he can convince me with those lighter than blue eyes. Too odd not to stare into and once there I would fall. I can’t give them away to anyone I care about. It is like a jinx on them. I can’t throw them away because they have a power all their own. Maybe I will pull them out now and again and look at them. Remind myself how hearts can burn and still not feel a thing.


Why has Godard’s elegant yet botched attempt at a movie musical A Woman is a Woman been re-released theatrically? If anything, this intermittently amusing dry martini reinforces what we sadly know: that the bad movies of 42 years ago seem positively stellar compared to the trash on our screens today. Which doesn’t excuse Godard’s folly. As a cabaret chanteuse who spends a good deal of time flirting with Jean-Paul Belmondo, Anna Karina can barely carry a tune—although that scarcely matters with lyrics such as “I’m the girl who says yessirree/When a fella says c’mon sweetie.” The scenes of these frustrated lovers clowning around gay Paree have style and verve; the dreary domestic passages between the leading lady and Jean-Claude Brialy bring Woman to a halt. Godard chops most of the music in mid-note, lest we dare forget that we’re watching a movie. In the lone exception, our nutty auteur shoots a café sequence in real time: Karina and Belmondo lounge dejectedly as a jukebox spins Charles Aznavour’s bittersweet ballad “You’ve Let Yourself Go.” This lovely song captures a kind of magic that eludes Godard (and us) for the remaining 80-odd minutes. – NPT

Posted 25-02-2009, 10:25 PM

The main female character, whose name escapes me, played by Anna Karina.

She’s constantly pouting, spazzing out and acting cutesy. She pleads with her boyfriend to have a baby, and he says no repeatedly. When her boyfriend pokes fun at her for being so silly acting she says she something like it’s beautiful when women cry or there’s nothing more beautiful than a woman crying. Something like that. Then she goes on to say that “modern women” get it all wrong when they try to act like men and not flighty and hysteria-prone.

The entire scene makes more sense in the context of the film–it being a cheeky take on the musical-comedy genre (at one time big in Hollywood, with stars like Doris Day in them). Seems a sort of whimsical but cynical take on the perqs and perils of domesticity.






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