An early effort from the versatile-to-the-point of uncategorizable Agnés Varda. It’s what is often called a film essay, which you might say bears the same relationship to conventional documentaries as the editorial does to reportage.
This is very artfully assembled and presented example of that form. Great intelligence and artistry—Colour! Composition! Rhythm! Juxtaposition!—are clearly operating here. They are even operating ostentatiously, but young genius will be young genius. So it’s all kind of thrilling, and while the eye is filled there are several piquant and even poignant observations made. (Georges Delerue’s contributes an excellent score.) Could it be? In the end it might not be saying quite as much as it thinks it is.