There is a question whether this film is about opposites or contradictions. Neither. It is about sameness. For all the talk, Viva and Leni have the same goals, the same plan, the same path. Elsa/Jeanne are not a dichotomy of two personalities in one person, simply the same person whether in the dance hall or not, and her aspiration to the magical diamond is too much for her simple self. The protagonists are no better than the antagonists. Don't argue, it's true.
Next question: Another reviewer asks: "What does it mean when Jean Babilee, outdoing Travolta, raises his arm and smashes a dancehall mirror through telekinesis?" Pierrot (the clown) is the foil, stronger than the females believe, or want to believe. Only progressives will be dumbfounded at the superiority of the male, or at least Rivette making this cinema assertion.
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "Why does he wake up in the bottom of a parking garage and talk about killing a sister we've never seen?" Pierrot lives the life of simplicity, even Christ. It is not Viva who is the God figure, but Pierrot. The allusion to "sister" may be Satan. Why a female Satan? Again, this film holds up male superiority over female wiles. It is Pierrot who plays Viva and Leni from the start - he is never fooled, no matter how beautiful they are.
Next question: The same reviewer asks, "Why does he become graceful and muscular, almost superhuman, when Bulle Ogier counts backwards and changes the universe to black-and-white?" If you haven't guessed, the male is superior. He is the most graceful, or full of Grace, if you like. There are many religious aspects here if one is open to it, obvious and overt.
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "Why does Juliet Berto keep changing her costume?" Evil unmasked must always put on a new face. Today's fascist is tomorrow's "progressive" or "nationalist" (naturally, what I just said is up for further debate).
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "How do you escape the dancehall?" A great question. The piano player, always rancorous, ever soothing, sets the tone for much of the dialogue. This indicates the backdrop of universal law (music) to which we all must dance or otherwise yell over. The dancehall is not really a prison, but a perceived prison. One may leave anytime, if one wishes. The actual question most people ask is not "How do I leave?" but rather "How do I change the music?" In other words, they like the fun but not the rules.
I found this film to be a 1970's gem of low-budget quirkiness, whether this was deliberate from Rivette, of necessity due to funding, or by accident in post-production. The story is slight, not really complicated, good vs. evil, with a few nihilist elements that "None are good, no, not one." Nothing Tarantino or Peckinpah, not DeNiro evil, just female temptation, and not even in all its succubus delight.
I recommend this film not as art but as basic entertainment, with cute leads (especially Bulle Ogier), slight lesbian overtones, meaningless dramatic interplay, and a cool surreal ending.
Next question: Another reviewer asks: "What does it mean when Jean Babilee, outdoing Travolta, raises his arm and smashes a dancehall mirror through telekinesis?" Pierrot (the clown) is the foil, stronger than the females believe, or want to believe. Only progressives will be dumbfounded at the superiority of the male, or at least Rivette making this cinema assertion.
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "Why does he wake up in the bottom of a parking garage and talk about killing a sister we've never seen?" Pierrot lives the life of simplicity, even Christ. It is not Viva who is the God figure, but Pierrot. The allusion to "sister" may be Satan. Why a female Satan? Again, this film holds up male superiority over female wiles. It is Pierrot who plays Viva and Leni from the start - he is never fooled, no matter how beautiful they are.
Next question: The same reviewer asks, "Why does he become graceful and muscular, almost superhuman, when Bulle Ogier counts backwards and changes the universe to black-and-white?" If you haven't guessed, the male is superior. He is the most graceful, or full of Grace, if you like. There are many religious aspects here if one is open to it, obvious and overt.
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "Why does Juliet Berto keep changing her costume?" Evil unmasked must always put on a new face. Today's fascist is tomorrow's "progressive" or "nationalist" (naturally, what I just said is up for further debate).
Next question: The same reviewer asks: "How do you escape the dancehall?" A great question. The piano player, always rancorous, ever soothing, sets the tone for much of the dialogue. This indicates the backdrop of universal law (music) to which we all must dance or otherwise yell over. The dancehall is not really a prison, but a perceived prison. One may leave anytime, if one wishes. The actual question most people ask is not "How do I leave?" but rather "How do I change the music?" In other words, they like the fun but not the rules.
I found this film to be a 1970's gem of low-budget quirkiness, whether this was deliberate from Rivette, of necessity due to funding, or by accident in post-production. The story is slight, not really complicated, good vs. evil, with a few nihilist elements that "None are good, no, not one." Nothing Tarantino or Peckinpah, not DeNiro evil, just female temptation, and not even in all its succubus delight.
I recommend this film not as art but as basic entertainment, with cute leads (especially Bulle Ogier), slight lesbian overtones, meaningless dramatic interplay, and a cool surreal ending.