Michael

A long time ago I sent you my musings on having seen "Band of Outsiders." In it I ventured the theory that Godard's central issue (at least in his pre-1968 movies) was the fact that he just fit in better with books and movies than in "real life"-- that he had found art to be the only true home of love, tenderness, devotion, etc., while reality was just a place where people "playacted" such emotions and generally looked out for themselves. In short, the work of a brilliant, but really needy, guy.

You never responded to this. You swine.

I just read a review of Godard's "In Praise of Love" which I understand is now playing in New York. It is your DUTY to write up something brilliant about Godard. This new movie, which according to the review is gorgeous nonsense, is an obvious hook. Now, get busy.

If necessary it is permissible for you to dismiss my theories on Godard with Degas' line about a critic: "Don't worry about HIS opinions. He arrived in Paris by way of the treetops."

Dictatorial cheers,

Friedrich