text: Well, as Goethe once said, there really isn't any point in trying to pass a negative judgement that aspires to be objective on "something that has had a great effect". "La Maman et La Putain" has surely passed into history as an influence on much of what's been done in France and elsewhere in the past thirty years and no one interested in the history of film, certainly, should be dissuaded from watching it. To express a purely subjective judgement, however, I feel compelled to disagree with almost every other review posted here and say to people: "Don't watch it; it's a waste of hours of your time that will just leave you feeling rather sick and angry." And by that I don't mean "sick and angry" about "the human condition" or anything so general and profound as that, because that is exactly the line that most critics have adopted in their fulsome praise of the film - "an ordeal to watch in its ruthless dissection of our emotional cowardice and cruelty" and so on - and, if it really managed to put across a universally or even broadly relevant message of this sort, then the director would have good reason to be satisfied with himself, however pessimistic his conclusions may be. My beef with the film is rather that I don't see this hours-long record of empty vanity and petty treachery as being justified or excused by any GENERALLY relevant message at all. All three main characters are deeply morally unattractive individuals: Alexandre to the greatest degree, of course, because we see by far the most of him and because he seldom shuts up for more than thirty seconds; Marie perhaps to the least degree, because we see the least of her. Alexandre's affected and pretentious monologues have a kind of amusement value, of course, but the amusement wears thin as one comes more and more clearly to realize that Jean-Pierre Léaud is most likely not even acting and that, with absurd remarks like "un homme beau comme un film de Nicholas Ray", he really was just reproducing word-for-word opinions that were accepted as authentic and profound by the milieu in which he, along with the director Eustache, had been living for about ten years by the time of the making of the film. I suppose if the tone of relentless superficiality and triviality had been sustained throughout 100% of the film, it might have worked as a long sardonic comedy about a particularly shallow, worthless and despicable post-'68 milieu. What made, however, this viewer at least extremely angry with the director was his granting of at least one lengthy scene each to Alexandre and Veronika in which we are clearly expected to empathize with and feel for them as if they shared a moral universe with us. If a man can get away with living in the flat of and professing to love one woman, sleeping (mostly in this very flat) with another, and running around Paris proposing marriage to yet a third, well, I suppose I can wish him the best of luck in the dog-eat-dog world he's chosen to create for himself. What I can't, however, in all conscience do is listen even for a moment to maudlin monologues from him in which he speaks about his "anxiety" and his "despair". The same goes double for the even more despicable Veronika, whom we are shown barging drunk into the apartment and even the bed shared by Marie and Alexandre and behaving there with an infantile inconsistency tantamount to the most savage and heartless cruelty. As I say, if "La Maman et La Putain" is intended to be nothing more nor other than a portrait of Alexandre, Veronika and Marie, three individuals whom any even halfway decent person would never admit into their company let alone their home, then I suppose there is a kind of legitimacy in praising the director for being "unflinching" (though why one should even feel like "flinching" once one had consciously opted to create such thoroughly repellent characters to filmically observe I can't imagine). The problem, however, is that the director is clearly convinced - and appears to have succeeded in convincing generations of critics - that Alexander, Veronika and Marie are somehow representative of human beings in general and of the limits of human beings' emotional capabilities. This latter idea, however, is arrant and offensive nonsense. There may indeed be an inherent fallibility and tendency to tragedy in human relations in general and sexual relations in particular. But the nature and degree of this fallibility and tendency to tragedy can only possibly be determined by people who make a sincere and serious effort to make such relations work. It surely needs no cinematic or authorial genius to convey to us the information that a man who behaves like Alexandre is going to end up hated, miserable, and alone, or that women who insist on expecting love from a man like Alexandre are going to end up disappointed and bitter. Watch "La Maman et La Putain" if you're historically interested in what passed for culture and human interaction in a certain post-'68 Parisian milieu which was probably, unfortunately, not restricted to just a few particularly anti-social types like these. But please don't make the mistake of believing that what is recorded here has any general relevance for humanity in the way that a film by Jean Renoir or Martin Scorsese might be argued to have.