NOT THAT I DON'T ALREADY STRUGGLE WITH MY BODY CLOCK when I'm not traveling, jet lag has made the sleeplessness even more excruciating with night after night of false hunger and day after day of increasing fatigue.
Last night I -choicelessly- stayed up through the ambiguously fashionable Last Year at Marienbad; 94 minutes of esoteric dialogue alternated with haunting musical tracks, of awkward stop-go blocking and indistinct dream-life sequences, of selective shadows cast by human figures and no other surrounding object, of baffling geography and a dopey debonair who just won't quit.
It was all a bit of a chore if you ask me.
But oh what a joy it was to stay up through the rococo, the chandeliers, the trompe l'oeil, the magnificent stairways at the end of long marble halls, the chiffon-caped Chanel costumes, the pearls, the women with hands resting on their shoulders and the gentlemen at their dapper best.
Hanging on further towards the end revealed the film to be startling, scary and surreal. Quite thrilling I think.
And Karl Lagerfeld thinks so too. What a timely watch it was with the film inspiring his recent SS 2011 Chanel show.
Last Year at Marienbad (L'Année derniére à Marienbad), 1961. Directed by Alain Resnais.
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