Baxter Vera Baxter

I really tried to watch it until the end but that awful infinite same music that goes on for the entire movie, for every second of the movie, was absolutely driving me crazy. It was impossible for me to follow the dialogues and the plot. I had the feeling that the director had no idea how to do it and really didn't mind if the movie was unwatchable, she only wanted to follow her (despicable) idea of this infinite music loop.

Maybe without audio and just reading subtitles, it can be watched, but is this what I want from a movie? I mean, a movie can also be an experimental art-movie and still be watchable, makes a sense. This doesn't. I really suggest you to give such an effort to another one and avoid loose your time.

One of the most unbearable Duras movies. With photography by Sacha Vierny, Delphine Seyring more languid than ever, and beautiful images of the coast. So far the positive part.

As many times with Duras, the problem starts with the text: ridiculous, empty, contrived, and so underlined by the style of the film that it seems that we are being shouted that it is art with capital letters.

Again the usual zombies chatting slowly and staring into space for what seems like an eternity.

A tribute to that intellectual kitsch of the time, with all the clichés and fashionable stereotypes about immature and cowardly men, empathic, profound and understanding women. Affected playing, stupid dialogues (that telephone conversation! With poor Perier shouting Vera!... Vera!), a dash of classy French eroticism (Vera naked with a pearl necklace), and a desolate and luxurious background of an uninhabited mansion with impressive windows to provide easy beutiful images.

Duras continues to have followers, although her film work is largely forgotten. Compared to the highly esteemed Robbe-Grillet, Sarraute, Perec... the literary work of this author is too many times of a badly repressed sentimentality, only tolerated by a style reputed for its conciseness and supposed precision (favorite word among the french critics of that time).

I must say about the music, which is ironically referred to by the characters as "outer turbulence": it plays continuously from the second scene, for almost 90 minutes, in an unbearable uniform rhythm. It's pretty at first, over the lonely beaches, the mansions, and the desolate mansion rooms. In the end it is already torture.

Her cinema is different, assumed to be targeted for a minority, with artistic flair, but that doesn't make it good.

Anyway this is far better than Le camion. For an increasingly select minority.

Although a major player in the French New Wave, the films of Marguerite Duras are, in general, not that widely known and "Baxter, Vera Baxter" is one that disappeared from view quicker than most. She wrote and directed it in 1977 with her usual collaborator Delphine Seyrig and a little-seen Gerard Depardieu heading a largely unknown cast and it plods along in typrical metronomic fashion as we are introduced to our titular heroine, (Claudine Gabay), by Depardieu who, it appears, is her current lover before meeting Vera herself as she languishes in some expensive villa regaling anyone who listens with tales of her sorry love life; Seyrig is one of the listeners.

This is the kind of art-house movie that gives art-house movies a bad name. Ponderous, pretentious and, although only ninety minutes long, feeling like an eternity in hell. It's the kind of rubbish you can see the Monty Python team sending up with dialogue so precious you may feel like switching the subtitles off altogether but even then you would still have to listen to the God-awful music. To be avoided like the worst case of Covid.

i didn´t enjoy this movie. i like other films with similar proposals (long shots, slow cadence, extended silences, bresson-like acting...) i accept that M.Duras had a personal way to understand the cinema, but i didn´t enjoy this movie.

A dull monotonous Andean-like melody (or sort of) almost ruins this un-emotional account of the dramatic evolution of a couple. As an annoying never-ending loop the melody keeps on going for almost 85 minutes or so of projection, without any reason. It is supposedly the music partygoers are playing or listening to, and it can be heard from the beach to the forest in Thionville... I have nothing against Marguerite Duras' oblique way to tell stories (I love "Hiroshima, mon amour" and "Moderato cantabile", finely and respectively cinematized by Alain Resnais and Peter Brook), but as a filmmaker herself she could have spare us of this silly "score" and leave us with her fascinating world of words.