Agreed, great movie. It's as if Luis Bunuel and Frank Tashlin co-directed a spaghetti western. So many great absurd and surreal touches (courtesy of Bunuel collaborator Jean-Claude Carriere, I presume) mixed with the zany gag-oriented comedy that Louis Malle already showed a predisposition for in Zazie dans le metro made for a fantastic, off-putting combination. The movie was just chock full of weird little flourishes and touches, and I really liked the tone up until the end, when I thought for sure Malle and Carriere would have everything end badly for the ladies in front of a firing squad. A downer ending pulling the rug out from under everything would have been a brilliant little flip to curtail some of the wackier aspects. But for whatever reason it just wasn't in the cards (though I'd put money on the assumption that at least Carriere pushed for that). Still, the exploded father superior walking away at the end with his head in his hands was amazing. I'm really surprised this isn't a bit of a cult classic. Bardot's Tarzan-esque vine-swinging should by itself merit a small legion of devoted whackos. Of which I now number.
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