I’m not hip to the whole Jean-Luc Godard French New Wave thing, but since my wife got this on Netflix, I’d figure I’d give it a shot.  The only other Godard flick that I’ve seen was Sympathy for the Devil.  That flick didn’t make a lick of sense, but it at least had the benefit of some truly awesome Stones tunes.  This flick doesn’t make a lick of sense either, but unfortunately, all the music is French bubblegum ear fucking. 

It’s all about this dude named Paul who is in love with a pop singer named Madeline.  They have monotonous, pretentious conversations about nothing in particular until you slowly start to drift off to sleep.  Every so often something completely arbitrary will happen that will jar you back into consciousness, like someone randomly getting gunned down, or stabbing themselves, or Brigitte Bardot reading a book, which will make you sit up and say “What in the blue fuck just happened?” 

I have no idea.  The flick maybe a classic to some people, but to me it was just your typical arty French flick that made me want to slap everyone with the remotest of French ancestry.  I know everyone says Breathless is Godard’s masterpiece, and although I’ve always wanted to check it out, this shit fest doesn’t necessarily make me want to rush out and see it.