... is riveting compared to this crud. I used to think Godard had it all wrapped up pseud-wise but this guy can give him cards and spades. In this so-called movie we follow a nebbish, a guy who has neither looks, charm or charisma and resembles nothing so much as a young Timothy Carey who has somehow lucked into a pretty, even at times beautiful girl who is accompanying him across the desert, a drive punctuated every ten minutes or so for screwing sessions - making love is definitely NOT the phrase to illustrate these couplings. They also eat, check out the scenery, quarrel, make up but it always comes back to coupling. After what seems like several decades but is only about 100 minutes they are run off the road by a gang of sub-humans, the guy is beaten with a baseball bat and raped by one of the animals as the girl, who has been stripped naked but is otherwise unmolested, is forced to watch. The gang drives off. The couple repair to a motel. The girl is stabbed to death. The next shot shows the man, naked and dead in the desert. Slow fade. If only Dumont had opened (and closed) with the last ten minutes he would have done us all a favour. Total rubbish and a waste of good film stock.
Review of Twentynine Palms
