Recap Attack: Bar Girls (page 3)
We watch these movies so you don't have to
by bad machine, December 6, 2006
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Smitten — Girl finally gives Artist a name. Sort of. She’s changed her name to Lover, as if that’s helpful. They slow dance at the club. Lover whispers about violet tiaras, roses, saffron and meadows of daffodils. Dear God, love makes people talk like idiots. Agnes D. is all aflutter. “Tell me those words that no one has ever told me,” she says. I’m pretty sure she just did.
Back at the hotel, they make love to the strains of a mournful saxophone. There’s lots of undulating and hair tousling and a nice shot of the Girl’s humongous boobs, but Bound it ain’t. Because of the rack-tacular shot, I’ll call this one a half-gyp.
Lover puts back on her one and only shirt and gazes suspiciously out the window. The Man is downstairs, pacing in front of the building. Agnes D. comes up behind her and draws the curtain. Guess what? Nothing happens.
“She never asks about my life. She doesn’t know anything about me. When I’m not with her, I stop existing altogether for her.” Poor Lover. And isn’t that just like a woman whose favorite expressions are “Who cares?” and “Why not?” Hey. Those are my favorite expressions.
Bu Savè — Lover goes to see a black woman with close-cropped hair who has a real name: Bu Savè. Lover looks at Bu Savè and says, “I can’t help it, my love.” What now? Lover is a Cheater.
Bu Savè replies calmly, lovingly, “This isn’t the first time for us. And it won’t be the last.” Oh, those French — so unencumbered by puritanical notions of fidelity and monogamy. They kiss tenderly and fall back on the bed. Lover must be exhausted.
She’s Got to Have It — Down by the river, Lover is walking, deep in thought, when Agnes comes up on her. “I saw you from the window,” she says as she wraps her arms around Lover’s chest. Who’s stalking whom now?
They run playfully back to the hotel for some more Sapphic love. Agnes throws her clothes off and stands full frontal in the doorway. I love a fun girl.
She jumps into the tub with Lover hot on her naked heels. As they spoon together in the water, Girl says: “Each time we see each other, you act as if it’s the last time. Strange, since I’m the one who wants it to be the last time.” Lover has Girl wrapped around her boyish finger. Attentive apathy. Works every single time.
Back at Home — Bu Savè and Lover are in bed talking about Girl. “She’s not my type,” Lover says.
Bu Savè is no dope. “Must be fascinating to be attracted to someone who doesn’t attract you.” And yet, there is no malice in her tone, no sarcasm. Bu Savè is so Zen.
Artist/Lover and Bu Savè have an understanding. Artist gets to mess around, and Bu Savè gets to be fondled while Artist draws her with closed eyes. “There’s nothing judgmental about her. … Her presence and her absence are everything to me,” Artist says about Bu.
I’ve Changed My Mind — Wearing the same damn white shirt and black suit, Lover takes her nightly stroll along the Seine and after who knows how long, goes to see Agnes at the cabaret.
I think it was right about here when my friend Ellen started heckling the screen back in 2001 when we first saw this snoozer in a theater. She doesn’t aspire to be a comedian and is usually very well-mannered. Yes, it was that bad then, and it’s that bad to this day.
Anyway, Agnes and Lover slow dance together until Agnes spies the Man watching them. She pulls away. Artist chases after her but this time, Agnes is all pissy about it.
Agnes goes off on Lover: “Why don’t you leave me alone? I have to fight with men every day. I’m not going to do that with you. I don’t want you to come home with me. Didn’t you hear? I don’t want to see anybody. And don’t wait for me either. Make yourself scarce. Understand?”
That right there is the longest stretch of dialogue in the entire film.
Agnes stomps off, leaving Lover standing like a dope in the middle of the street.
Dumped — Lover walks the streets while melancholy jazz music plays that timeless classic, “Ennui of the Jilted.” Lover walks by the club and stares at Girl’s poster. She moseys over to her hotel and stares at her window. Get a life.
She narrates, “Her room has the silver light of the afternoon that comes with the paleness of the sky,” and other nonsensical babbling I won’t burden you with. Suffice it to say, she’s mopey. Lover knows that soon, they’ll be “pulled out of the room and into an unadorned, open, deserted space.” Oh, dear. I think I liked you better when you went six scenes in a row without uttering a word.
The Artist Formerly Known as Lover takes lots of art classes and draws her little heart out. Bu Savè is nowhere to be found, having had enough of their open relationship crap.
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