Two Weeks In September


TWO WEEKS IN SEPTEMBER  is French piffle from 1967 whose only saving grace is Brigitte Bardot, lovely as ever.  It’s a drama, of that special pretentious Euro-variety that Woody Allen or SNL would lampoon, where the dialogue exchanges ping aimlessly between sublime declarations like “I love you, I despise you“. Make up your own: “Does a pickle think?” “The door never closes on the night”.  One nice (actual) sample has BB asking her girlfriend  Do you cheat on your husband“?, with the response “As little as possible” Bummer that almost every other back & forth in the 96 minutes isn’t that good.


Boring guy she leaves.


Boring guy she meets.

A model leaves her boring guy back in Paris to go on a shoot in London.  She meets someone younger, new and exciting.  He’s also an irritating drip.  Locations in London and Scotland are so indifferently shot by director Serge Bourguignon that they may just as well have stayed in France.  Other actors are Laurent Terzieff, Jean Rochefort, James Robertson Justice and Georgina Ward.  There are some tease moments, since it’s… well, it’s Bardot, but the movie is yet another lame scenario that squanders her talents.  She looks sensational, and it’s interesting to just observe her honest, unaffected style.  Beyond the body, the smile, the walk, and the fact that she could sing, dance and act, I think one thing that made her so popular was  that —onscreen at least— she almost seemed accessible, like if you were there at the right moment she’d actually give you the time of day.  Larger-than-life movie goddesses— Taylor, Monroe, Loren— delivered the goods insofar as required for the roles, but they seemed out of touch for mortal man.  Bardot, famous as the ‘Sex Kitten’, comes off as playful and fun as a kitten.  Now, as to purring…..


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