Je t'aime moi non plus

We learn several things about Jane Birkin (once something of a sex symbol) here: 1 She bellows as loud and roughly as any woman I've ever seen on screen; really, REALLY loud; 2 She fakes a woman who finds anal intercourse unbearably painful really well (how realistic you find this may be based on your preconceptions about that act or your actual experience; I found it a touch over the top); 3 She really did have an incredibly boyish, nay, disturbingly thin, body in this period; sometimes distractingly so. She certainly had elfin charm at this point in her life and is most compelling when she's not.. well, screaming. (What does it say about her husband casting her in a distinctively masochistic role? Probably not much more than that, as a couple, they liked to maintain a faintly scandalous image.) Casting Joe Dallesandro was an interesting nod to Warhol, intended or not, though I don't think Gainsbourg was much associated with him. In a film which focuses more on his face than other attributes which brought him to prominence, he uses it well. There are some stray cameos by famous French actors like Gerard Depardieu and Michel Blanc. Overall, the film feels like a French homage to the darker sort of modern American Western, with lots of dreary landscapes and the arrival of two drifters. A lot of it feels cliché, albeit with a sense of homage, and the story is rather desultory overall. There are touches of humor, notably in the hotels where Birkin's character's... discomfort... greatly disturbs the other guests. Apparently Truffaut loved this film. I didn't.