#bande à part

[heateron]

bande à part (1964) dir. jean-luc godard

[homocinematicus]

Bande à part 1964 Jean-Luc Godard

[ensalada-de-lengua-de-pajaritos]

Unmute the loop!

[shihlun]

Aki Kaurismäki

- Fallen Leaves

2023

[mtonino]

on the set of Bande à part (1964) Jean-Luc Godard filming the dance scene

[theunbearablelightnessofbein]

[thesingalongsong]

“In starlit nights, I saw you

So cruelly, you kissed me

Your lips, a magic world

Your sky, all hung with jewels

The killing moon

Will come too soon,”

[rwpohl]

compulsion, richard fleischer 1959

[heavenslounge]

Bande à Part, 1964

dir. Jean-Luc Godard

[ulrichgebert]

Konnte nun endlich (obwohl uns Bertoluccis Träumer seit nunmehr 20Jahren darauf hinweisen) eine gravierende cineastische Bildungslücke füllen, mit Jean-Luc Godards absurder Dreierbeziehung-mit-Einbruchs-Tragikomödie Bande à part nämlich. Ist erwartungsgemäß natürlich ganz hinreißend, enthält eine Schweigeminute sowie letztmals auf der Leinwand Musik von Michel Legrand (?).

[n3wy0rkd011]

use your imagination; you don’t have to stay there

[homocinematicus]

Bande à part  1964 Jean-Luc Godard

[frnndlcs]

Bande à part, Jean-Luc Godard, 1964

[queensboro]

laughed out loud at this

[butchxenomorph]

the worst thing about trying to find communist filmmakers is that the only ones ive found fucking suck

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Hi hi I was just wondering if ur taking requests could u do a 97!Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!reader headcanon list of going on a date in New Orleans 👉🏼👈🏼

I don't think I've ever done a headcannon list before so I'LL TRY.

Remy, ever the charmer, surprises you with an invitation in true Cajun fashion—leaving a handwritten note with a single red rose at your doorstep. The note simply reads, "Dinner à New Orleans, chérie? Pack y'self a lil' dress, we gon' have some fun."

Remy picks you up in a sleek black convertible, the engine purring as music plays softly in the background. He's dressed in a tailored dark suit with a hint of his usual flair—a red silk shirt peeking through. He gives you a once-over, eyes sparkling as he says, "Mon dieu, chérie, y'lookin' like a dream come true."

He takes you on a leisurely walk through the French Quarter before dinner, guiding you by the hand through cobblestone streets. Remy points out little historical tidbits and shares colorful local legends, his arm occasionally brushing yours. He loves showing off his city, and his accent grows thicker the more excited and animated he gets. His pride in his roots is infectious, and you can’t help but feel enamored by his passion.

Remy makes sure you stop for a moment to enjoy the vibrant street performers—a lively jazz band plays under the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. Without warning, he spins you into a playful dance right there on the sidewalk, leading you in a few smooth, flirty moves. He chuckles when you stumble slightly, pulling you closer and whispering, "Just follow m'lead, chère."

He takes you to a hidden gem restaurant known only to locals—tucked away, intimate, and filled with the aromas of Cajun spices. You’re seated in a cozy corner, candles flickering softly on the table. Remy orders in flawless French, his eyes never leaving yours. The conversation flows effortlessly between playful banter and deeper confessions, with Remy listening intently whenever you speak.

Remy insists on ordering a variety of dishes for you to try—gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya—each one more delicious than the last. He teases you about the spices, but when you handle the heat with ease, he raises an impressed eyebrow. "Didn’t think y’could keep up wit’ a Cajun’s palate, chère. Guess y'full of surprises, huh?"

At one point, Remy uses his powers in a subtle yet impressive display. With a flick of his wrist, he charges a small card, letting it glow softly in the dim light before tossing it away, harmlessly discharging the energy. It’s his way of showing off, but also a reminder that beneath the charm and the smiles, he’s got an edge that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

After dinner, Remy whisks you away to a riverboat cruise along the Mississippi. The boat is old-fashioned, with a big paddlewheel and a lively jazz band playing on the deck. He takes you out onto the balcony where the city lights glitter on the water. As you lean on the railing, he wraps his coat around your shoulders and stands close behind, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs about the sights.

Near the end of the night, Remy takes you to a little antique shop that’s open late. He insists on buying you a small keepsake—a delicate locket with a tiny flower engraved on it. He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he gazes into your eyes. "Now y’got a piece of New Orleans wit’ ya, wherever y’go."

He walks you back to your door, the night air still warm and filled with the faint scent of magnolias. Remy leans against the doorframe, smirking as if he’s in no rush to leave. When the moment finally feels right, he steps closer, tilting your chin up gently. His kiss is soft and slow at first, filled with unspoken promises of more nights like this. As you part, he whispers, "Bonne nuit, ma belle. This ain’t gon’ be our last rendezvous."