The Order

From Provence to Greece, a journey on the mortal remains and ruins of ancient civilizations.

A foundry in Perche was established in 1876. This is a final homage paid to the ancestral occupation of foundrymen, whose actions have been repeated innumerable times through the years and which are now going to disappear forever.

A homage to journalist Francis Ponge in a film that its author regarded as “natural.”

Leon who works as a bathhouse attendant discovers a passion for the tango that will change his life. He falls in love with Fumée, a young and pretty prostitute who becomes his partner in tango contests.

Six vignettes set in different sections of Paris, by six directors. St. Germain des Pres (Douchet), Gare du Nord (Rouch), Rue St. Denis (Pollet), and Montparnasse et Levallois (Godard) are stories of love, flirtation and prostitution; Place d'Etoile (Rohmer) concerns a haberdasher and his umbrella; and La Muette (Chabrol), a bourgeois family and earplugs.

A man who lives by himself becomes increasingly concerned that he is not alone. Based on the short story by Guy de Maupassant.

In a big isolated house, Mikael, a musician, is composing a psalm. A young woman, Linda, comes to retreive a suitcase belonging to Sébastien, her companion and Mikael's friend. It contains hundreds of photographs from all over the world. While he is travelling, Sébastien has asked Linda to organise the photographs with a view to an exhibition. Mikael invites Linda to reside with him. She accepts. That is the heart of the film – an intertwining of photographs which, juxtaposed by Linda, begin to speak. In parallel with this, Linda receives cassette-letters from Sébastien. A subtle relationship is established between Linda, the young debutante, and Mikael, the man of experience. Mikael goes off to direct his psalm, Linda stays alone. The walls become covered with photographs – wall of happiness, wall of misery – the fight between Good and Evil. Linda learns of the accidental death of Sébastien and stays alone.

A more polished version of Pourvu, set in a black cha-cha nightclub. Relying more upon looks, faces, and unease, rather than gags or dialogue, Pollet sets the cool elegance of the club's manager against the decidedly uncool Melki and his sartorial inadequacies.

Spinoza, attempting to discover why his son committed suicide, meets his girlfriend and his rival for her affections.

In a cul-de-sac in the Faubourg-Saint-Antoine, Leon shares two rooms with his sister Marie. In one, he receives his clients: he is a tailor. In the other, Marie receives her own: she is a clairvoyant. Leon was happy until he learned what Marie was hiding from him. She is actually a prostitute, and Maxime, her supposed fiancé, is her pimp. On the same day, Leon also discovers love in the form of Arlette, a provincial young woman picked up by Marie.

An alien, with the ability to travel through time, visits our planet at various eras.

Francesco, a young Sicilian aristocrat, scars an aging gangster who has set out to take away his property. The gangster vows to obtain vengeance, and Francesco is forced to flee across Greece with his girl friend, pursued by his antagonist's vicious henchmen.

In 1944, in Paris, the leader of a resistance network is looking for the traitor who gave away a radio operator.

Pedro returns to the castle of his childhood, inhabited by his uncle, an indifferent being who scarcely notices his presence. At the castle, Pedro wanders between the park and the salons, playing the songs he composed on the guitar. He notices strange people around the castle.

[Here] Pollet made a work that is the very definition of what French critics like to call an ovni or ufo (as in ‘unidentified filmic object’). [It] has been described as being ‘like a comet in the sky of French cinema,’ an ‘unknown masterpiece,’ and an ‘unprecedented’ work that refuses interpretation even as it has provoked reams of critical writing. Its rhythmic collage of images – a girl on a gurney, a fisherman, Greek ruins, a Sicilian garden, a Spanish corrida – is accompanied by an abstract commentary written by Sollers, and only the somber lyricism of Antoine Duhamel’s score holds the film’s elements together. At first viewing, you fear that [it] might fly apart into incoherent fragments. Instead, over the course of its 45 minutes it invents its own rules, and you realize you’re watching something like the filmic channeling of an ancient ritual.

An apocalyptic vision of man after a cosmic catastrophe, this film is a terrifying metaphor of a dehumanized future. The Brazilian Cinema Novo, German expressionism of the twenties, and the ideologically motivated ‘cruelty’ of a Buñuel come together in this ferocious work of a French theatre collective – an ambitious, almost completely successful example of visual cinema at its best.