If you're feeling overwhelmed, but still want to squeeze a film into your daily routine, this list is made for…
Michel is released from jail after serving a sentence for thievery. His mother dies and he resorts to pickpocketing as a means of survival.
So after the overwhelming satisfaction I found with Bresson's A Man Escaped, I immediately dove into his next chronological work Pickpocket. With a brisk 75 minute running time and an intriguing premise, I expected to have the same response that I had with his previous work. Whilst I didn't have the immediate affection for this film as I had for A Man Escaped, I have wrestled with it more after the fact to the point that it is showing it's true colours and I am very eager to watch it again.
With Bresson, one must adjust the way they read and understand film, and it helps to recognise his techniques. He throws convention out the window and strips away what…
Well I must say it's very nice of Pickpocket to start off by telling us it's not a thriller.
I'm slightly pissed off by that opening. It could be because I'm over-tired and annoyed and possibly being over-sensitive, but there's a slightly sneery tone behind it that almost smacks to me as suggesting that it would be beneath this film to be labelled a mere thriller. It's a really odd and stand-offish way to start a film, I must admit, and while I suppose in one way I do slightly appreciate its honesty, I think it could have done me a big favour in furthering that honesty.
"This is a…
A film that defies star ratings. Deeply unsettling. I still don't know if I love it, but I do know that it's absolutely brilliant.
A.V. Club review. Try as I might, I can't make the final line reverberate back through the entire film, which is what would need to happen for it to have the ecstatic effect Bresson clearly intends. Had enormous difficulty addressing that very personal reaction in the review while simultaneously acknowledging Pickpocket's importance and the fact that many people consider its ending one of cinema's greatest, which is one of several reasons why I think a blanket ban on the use of first person is wrongheaded. (Hi various editors!)
A suit that's slightly too large. Impassive eyes that hold yours just past the point of comfort and suddenly drop. Delicately roving hands that slide over a cuff, a button, a purse clasp, and slip inward - or shy away.
I'm not sure when I've been more uncomfortable in the company of a protagonist. Watching him is like an experience of repeatedly, accidentally catching someone masturbating - and then we both walk away, pretending no one saw such a private compulsion made public.
In the final moments, the impassive eyes change; they are less secretive, hidden; there is, even, an open, innocent eagerness. My discomfort drops for the first time.
But then, "Fin." What has that last scene resolved? I am not sure.
"Can we not admit that certain skilled men, gifted with intelligence, talent or even genius, and thus indispensable to society, rather than stagnate, should be free to disobey laws in certain cases?" ~ Michel
If dourness can be beautiful and numbness artistic, then Robert Bresson is the writer-director to make it so. I watched this just a couple of days after viewing his Diary of a Country Priest, and the similarities are striking. There's the same laconic, solitary central figure -- this time a thief named Michel played by lanky Martin LaSalle -- and there's the recording of personal thoughts in a journal. Although this film takes place in Paris among lots of people, Michel is just as alone in…
Feels like it uses fade transitions and monologue as an excuse for rushed, lazy storytelling, neither technique particularly adding anything at all.
That said its still very enjoyable and the poster looks a bit like me so it's my favourite film of all time
There was no emotion in the movie. Apparently deliberate.
the main thievery setpieces feel like something from another planet that's smoother than ours.
La elegancia está en el mínimo, y en el mínimo está la esencia.
The procedural montages are lyrical and beautiful -- staged and edited to perfection. Wasn't crazy about the last 15 minutes.
A wooden cypher (Martin LaSalle) becomes addicted to a life of petty crime. Of all the "greatest filmmakers of all time," writer-director Robert Bresson is emerging as my least favorite: his so-called minimalist style is stultifyingly boring, lacking rhythm and depending too much on telling rather than showing; he lacks any ability to direct the amateur players he casts, leaving them to stand still, reciting the bland dialogue without any emotion whatsoever; and he takes potentially intriguing ideas -- such as updating Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment here -- and creates a reductive, simplistic concept. The great irony is that this supposed spiritual artist creates movies that are pretty much torture to sit through.
The definition of slick and gracefully done. Those pickpocketing scenes were amazing.
''To reach you at last, what a path I had to take.''
All the films from all the editions, including those subsequently removed, presently totalling 1187. An easy way of seeing how…
UPDATED: October 21, 2016
The Criterion Collection is a video distribution company that sells "important classic and contemporary films" in…