I will gladly sit back and watch one of cinema's greatest artists indulge a whim, satisfy an urge, follow a folly down whatever corridors it may lead them. The joy is in knowing that few others, if anyone, could have done it better. In concept alone, Alain Resnais' You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet is intriguing and exciting. In actuality, yes, there is significant joy to be had merely in witnessing it. And there are no failures here. Not Alain Resnais. He doesn't make mistakes. His command over the medium is too assured to accommodate mistakes. It certainly didn't all work for me, but the nature of a true risk dictates that it could fall either way. I have nothing but respect for Resnais in how he manages to rig his risk in a favourable direction so often. And whom am I to analyse his intentions or his ideas? Every trick up his sleeve is on display, every stitch showing. He's blatantly showing off (why not, when you're this good?), and so makes his technique a fundamental part of the experience. You're supposed to see the cogs turning. The mystery, and that which makes his films so fulfilling, lies in how he gets the cogs to turn in the first place. What kind of magic is this? And what profound emotional impact it can have, this bizarre, mysterious craft of his. You may find yourself sincerely stirred by the story herein (or stories) and yet be near utterly unaware of what it's even about. Resnais is manipulating us, and it's our fucking duty as the inferior homo sapiens that we are to let him. I will gladly sit back and let Alain Resnais toy with my mind as I will gladly let any theoretical artistic construct. I am not so arrogant as to think myself above that. At 90 years of age, as he was when this film was first released, he has come closer to the meaning of life than most of us could even imagine. Which is why I believe him: we ain't seen nothin' yet.
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