High-art endurance porn. All in all, a resoundingly conflicting experience. Godard pushes his deconstruction of film to its most extreme possible breaking point, camera-movements creeping with the purposeful precision of Tarkovsky, and yet contextualising nothing more than a vibrant flurry of political diarrhoea. His most impressive technical achievements are undoubtedly displayed in Weekend, it's a saddening shame he feels the urge to resort to overtly inhumane animal slaughter and labouring threads of Marxism, Socialism, Communism, Racism, Nazism, Sexism, Revolutionism, Classism, Liberalism, Heroism and just about every other 'ism' one could muster. It's fortunate his work moves as uniquely as it does, no other director could make a bird this broken fly. Despite the trademark intellectual overkill, Weekend is thoroughly captivating throughout and still manages not to be a complete crash, although I'd strongly advise viewers to expect some whiplash from this one. Bitter and ravenous in almost every way.