So I got stuck in the metro because of an accident on the line, so I went out of the station, it was raining and very cold, so I found shelter in this Paris art-house cinema, mostly because of my everlasting interest for films, but also attracted by -let's face it- the nice poster with bright colors, as the night was falling and the frost was biting my feet. After 5 minutes in the empty screening room (the usher was not sure that there would be a "private screening" just for me but then another person walked in), so then after 5 minutes I knew that this film had already shown it all, and that there would not be any surprise to come : I was facing a time warp into the early 90s indie cr*p, the sort of film made by some Hal Hartley wannabe, with a twist of today's Solondzness. Caricatural shifty/witty/ugly/unlikeable characters, lots of void & pouting glares between cues, pretentious unfunny comedy lines, annoying corny little music score. Love & melodrama between the kitchen sink and the bathroom, over 20 years in the lives of unfathomably dull characters (could have been a French film, but not even). A deluge of clichés resuming in a film that, in a normal world, should have stuck to a late night screening of a penniless, remote & semi-freaky festival. But released theatrically ? I just couldn't believe my eyes. At that point (10 minutes), I felt an urge to rush out. I could obviously face the rain, and the possibility of the metro being still blocked and of having to bump into throngs of hurrying people in the streets. I chose to stay. It was warm in there. I played Angry Birds for the rest of the film (the Star Wars edition). The images of the film were sort of gliding over my forehead, making their way to the back of the room. I could follow the plot effortlessly without really watching or listening.
One of the most miserable evenings of my life so far.
One of the most miserable evenings of my life so far.