Montag morgen

This is a funny, quirky comedy. It is a meditation on work, its rewards and frustrations. A welder in a large, repellent factory gives in to his original ambition of being a painter, and takes off for Venice.

There's a lot of oddball behavior. The story is not terrifically linear, and it's not clear what the main character has learned at the end of his voyage. But you do get to spend time with some charming eccentrics in offbeat situations. And afterward you can puzzle out exactly why the characters behaved the way they did.

It's abominable that this film was never seen in the US. Too many good international movies simply don't make it to our side of the ocean. We can hope that the medium of DVD will improve matters, but this little gem of a picture for one fell right through the cracks.

The film's main character is fed up with his dreary life, that's why he decides to give up everything, his wife, kids and his job for a few weeks away during which he'll be able to smoke and drink to forget his condition and finds himself again.

He claims his right for smoking after such a long time of deprivation. Smoking becomes an act of rebellion and numerous are the characters who act that way. Quite funny. The whole film is a comedy as most of the cast is singular and absolutely ludicrous.

But what could have been a nice film becomes more or less wasted by the director unability to give substance to his characters whom he forgets without any reason. What happens to the main protagonist's wife and kids for almost an hour is just a mystery. Frustrating and needless as they first appeared as leading parts.

And the direction is so primary and limited!

Why does that film last two hour is another mystery as it finally brings us nothing upsetting, except a few really funny moments.

A quirky, amusing little film about a French factory worker attempting to get away from it all. The factory scenes at the beginning definitely show a strong Jacques Tati influence and the rest of the film is very much a French version of a Mike Leigh film. Like a lot of French films, plot is not particularly important, but the characters and the atmosphere just wash over you.

My favourite characters were the cigarette smoking, sports car driving grandmother and the fat old man in the wheelchair, M. Albert. The scene where his carer pushed him down the hill in his wheelchair was hilarious! If you like gentle, atmospheric foreign films that don't really 'go' anywhere, then this one is for you.

This great film by Ioseliani was reviewed by many amateurs on this site, and, perhaps, that is why, I'm writing this short review. What Ioseliani offers is not simply a social commentary or an act of rebellion against every day life, but an evocative examination of monotonous, lonely state of being deprived of basic human necessities(such as friends... and so many other elements.) Characters are lonely despite of their social standings and "forbidding" rules oppress everybody, as well.("No smoking" at factories, "no drinking" in households and so on.) In this film everything is done for a reason and everything makes sense; if some reviewers don't think so, I would suggest them to watch the film one more time or to start writing reviews for other films... there are so many on this website.

This film is such a rare mixture of place, character and time that one element seems never to upstage the other. The blend is unique and evolves into an organic presentation where each is essentially dependent upon the other. For example,scenes are so impeccably designed that a scene itself becomes a character in time. The blue car, the mud shoes, the factory, the bikes, the flowers, and so on all fit into a carefully crafted philosophical whole which defines temporal existence. This is true of other like scenes, such as the city of Venice or living conditions of the transvestite hatcheck person with the two pet Norway rats. The characters fit perfectly into each scene in the same way that the subjects of Norman Rockwell fit into his paintings. Time becomes the cultural lag which slows down everything, from the chemical factory workers to the boatmen in Venice. Even the most absurd scenes flow into a gentle homogenaity. "Where did you get the crocodile?" Vincent asks his young son as if he were inquiring about an ice cream cone. In the final analysis, Monday Morning is the nonviolent triumph of humanity over contemporary absurdity.