The Collector (1967)
6/10
One of those films you're supposed to love in order to be cool
19 July 2021
This is another film on that imaginary list of movies you're supposed to dig if you want to be in with the Cool Kids. It's french, it's pretty, it's sexy, it's talky as hell, and it's languid. You know -- it's European.

This is also one of those films that's best appreciated if you saw it in its time. That way, you can appreciate everything it wasn't, its important aesthetic distinctions from all the other stuff you watching in 1968ish. After all, in 2021, the french new wave is as stale as week-old baguettes.

But seen for the first time in 2021, it's pretty, sexy, and as boring as a week spent alone in a seaside villa with nothing but sunshine and books. And its philosophical absurd dialogue? Mon dieu, non! First, it's ridiculous for what's more verité than not. Second, the only kinds of people who would behave like are the sedated kind. Third, if it's supposed to be referential and symbolic (it is supposed to be), then it's ineffectual.

So sure, be seduced into thinking that if you don't love this movie, then you're a cinema bore. But isn't it better to be a sincere bore, than a vapid poser? Do yourself a favor -- put your beret back in the closet and watch this sans expectation. Then you have a chance of liking it.
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