Two days old. I miss her newborn chubs already.
Chanced upon Gaspar Noé’s Love last night when I was searching for a film to watch over solitary dinner. Could say it’s a total departure from the last film of his that I’ve watched — and then not exactly so. Strobe lights again but with Wes Anderson-style framing, colors and captions.
Read somewhere that Noé had said how this everyday violence in sexual gratification-addiction is more pervasive and real than the type of violence he had portrayed in his other films. For the most part Love is sexually-explicit (visually arresting AF but thankfully not in 3D) with an attempt at a Before Sunrise-type discussion towards the end of the film about (what else but) love in every indie director’s favorite park in Paris — the parc des Buttes-Chaumont.
Think I also spied scenes shot in the cimetière du Père Lachaise and then maybe along a stretch below the elevated viaduct of métro line 2 in the 18th arrondissement on boulevard de la Chapelle just opposite the hôpital Lariboisière (looks too grimey to be line 6).
The dialogue in addition to Murphy’s whispery soliloquy which dominated the film could have been better and more polished. For those who find it charming, there’s lots of English spoken with a French accent (watch out for the bizarre bit with French cops dishing out relationship advice).