Hiroshima Mon Amour ★★★½

First impression: I feel like I'm reading some strands of Wim Wenders's DNA as I watch this. Many moments in my favorite film, Wings of Desire, have suddenly admitted their inspiration to me as I watch this for the first time.

Having said that, I find this a frustrating film. Perhaps my expectations were too high for having encountered reverent references to this film for decades. But if we divide this into three 30-minute acts, that harrowing first act works powerfully for me; the second act is a melodramatic story of love and loss that doesn't work for me; and the third act drags on for what feels like an hour (albeit with several more of the film's jaw-dropping deep-focus shots), making the mistake of highlighting and underlining the obvious implication that these characters are the places they're from.

How strange: I first encountered Riva as a woman sinking into dementia and forgetfulness in Three Colors: Blue. Then I encountered her again sinking into dementia and forgetfulness in Amour. And now, at last, I see her in this film, as a young woman... sinking into a sort of dementia and forgetfulness. She seems like a candidate for the most typecast actress of all time.