Word: boyfriend
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Godard uses the closeup at the end when an inspector asks Miss Goya what she will do now that her boyfriend is dead (a silly accident) and she's pregnant. Miss Goya repeats in a still voice, "I don't know"--her face almost expressionless. The effect is ambiguous, exactly like the end of Breathless. Is she finally touched by something outside herself? I don't think so. This is the closest she will ever be to having her self-containment shattered. But it can't be shattered. And just as her non-involvement protects her from an awareness...
...will give her the negatives. He declines the offer, gives her a substitute roll of film, and develops the pictures when she leaves. In examining the blow-ups, he sees that he has photographed a murder: hidden in the forest is the girl's real boyfriend aiming a pistol at the man she is kissing...
...kiss was fully on the mouth," admitted the plaintiff, Mary Nofsinger, 25. "And it endured up to the time of the accident?" asked her ex-boyfriend's lawyer. A: "Yes." Q: "This wasn't the first time you kissed, was it?" A: "No." But it was the last time with Airman Gary C. Hodges. As she told it, Mary had amiably gone along for a ride when, without warning, he kissed her. Smack! -the car wound up in a canal. Mary sued him for her assorted injuries, and the jury awarded her $7,500. Dismayed, Hodges took...
Godard obviously enjoyed making this film, and he lets you share his enjoyment. At times he flashes delicious notes on the screen to tell you how Anna Karina, will be very unhappy if she sleeps with Jean-Paul Belmonde, after her boyfriend, Jean-Claude Brialy, refuses to make her pregnant. The film soon becomes a joyous unbuckling of Godard's immense spontaneity as he plays with lights, editing, titles, and film speed. You leave the theatre stunned that anyone's mind could work so fast...
...Cold Blood is a minor national epic, illuminating many affecting portraits--allowing to share young Nancy Clutter's poignant diary: "Summer here. Forever I hope"; to witness the shock of her boyfriend's agony, by which an adolescent learns adult numbness; to be harassed by the posturing gruffness of Holcomb's postmistress: ". . . the sane thing to do is to shut up. You live until you die and it doesn't matter how you go--dead's dead": to appreciate Mr. Clutter's Midwest-pastoral dream: "an apple-scented Eden"; to wince before the senior Hickock's A History...