Director: Marguerite Duras
Year Released: 1972
This is either infuriating or playful, depending on your opinion of Duras and her work. I confess to being a fan - I actually take her books with me on vacation - and find this to be a decent replication of her exceptional literary output which is usually about people hopelessly trapped in their own worlds with their own thoughts and memories that they're unable to (or too exhausted to) properly cope with the external. Duras is capable of being droll, too, and there's an awkward exchange between novice washer salesman Gérard Depardieu and Lucia Bosé and Jeanne Moreau where he rattles on and they can only sit, stare and shake their heads. It reminds me a little of the work of Samuel Beckett, and the burden of interpretation is placed entirely on the viewer.