Eva ★★½

Fascinating as its own period knock off, but feels like Pauline Kael's attempt to prove the failure of Resnais and Antonioni "Come Dressed As the Sick Soul of Europe" by writing one of these scripts herself. That is to say, Eve is sexier and more showy than anything Antonioni made, but it's a highly obvious and empty affair. Losey—perhaps a hand for hire here? (Rosenbaum notes his original cut ran another 50 minutes, though I think this would have worked best in a tighter fashion)—swings his camera with furious rage, his kind of forte for avoiding obvious camera placement as he circles his characters into the environment like products of their time. But a lot of that camera rage feels misplaced, because there's very little psychological depth to be mined from a story about class consciousness and sexual desire gone amuck. The Venice and Rome locations are nice to look at and the jazz score by Michel Legrand rocks (along with the Billie Holiday songs used), but this is all too sexy of a movie, which misplaces its disenchantment like a back and forth pendulum (Antonioni knew that disenchantment was sexy). It's just all too literal (especially the revelations of Baker's past), and Moreau's cryptic performance feels more like a malleable presence to fit the whims of the script more than flesh-and-sucubus-blood.