Highlight of this entry: There's just something really special about seeing Godard cut together the films of people like Truffaut, Demy and Tati, finally concluding at the end, "Yes, they were my friends."

Something like a self-assessment, combined with a reminiscence, if not also a kind of mourning for the loss of what was, and for what it was not quite able to become.

I'm not sure, i think this might have been my favorite one?

as I was moving ahead occasionally I saw brief glimpses of beauty

Not much fun to watch; it's hard to shake the feeling that this is just an extended exercise in arbitrary visual rhyming & juxtaposition. The theme of cinema's relation to humanity is perhaps so fundamental as to be impenetrable, so maybe I expect too much, but Godard's narration is only occasionally interesting to me. I will however say that I believe this is a sincere work that is more meaningful than I'm perceiving. It's just not for me. (review for full series)

A loosely-connected smattering of barely related clips and really bad video effects, with Godard occasionally muttering something meaningless. This kind of free-association essay format can be interesting, and occasionally Godard nails an intriguing transition, but most of the time you're just wondering where he's going with all this. Answer: eh, nowhere in particular. The best thing is that it reminds you of better movies that you'd like to see again, without all the surrounding nonsense.