In Praise of Love
Some films test your patience; this one wears it down. In Praise of Love finds Godard deep in his late style—fragmented, elliptical, forever circling ideas of memory, politics, and love without much interest in clarity. Half the time you’re unsure what he’s saying, the other half you’re wondering if it was worth the detour.
The film splits in two: first, grainy black-and-white, then lurid digital colour. The contrast is jarring, but less profound than it seems—past and present crashing together in theory, though not always in feeling. Godard’s dialogue veers between lecture hall and diary entry, and while there’s an occasional glint of poetry, it often drowns in abstraction.
It isn’t exactly dull, but it is hard work. The rhythms drag, the pacing resists, and the reward feels slimmer than the effort. Every so often there’s an image that lands, but more often In Praise of Love drifts into static.
The film splits in two: first, grainy black-and-white, then lurid digital colour. The contrast is jarring, but less profound than it seems—past and present crashing together in theory, though not always in feeling. Godard’s dialogue veers between lecture hall and diary entry, and while there’s an occasional glint of poetry, it often drowns in abstraction.
It isn’t exactly dull, but it is hard work. The rhythms drag, the pacing resists, and the reward feels slimmer than the effort. Every so often there’s an image that lands, but more often In Praise of Love drifts into static.
Mini Review: In Praise of Love finds Godard in late style—fragmented, elliptical, circling memory, politics, and love with little clarity. Split into grainy B&W and lurid digital colour, the contrast is more jarring than profound. Dialogue swings from lecture to diary, with flashes of poetry buried in abstraction. It’s not dull, but it is hard work: rhythms drag, rewards feel slim, and though images sometimes strike, the film mostly drifts into static.
Watch the Trailer