
As someone who (heresy alert!) has always had reservations about Hiroshima Mon Amour and Last Year at Marienbad, I was blindsided by Alain Resnais’s extremely hard-to-see Je T’Aime, Je T’Aime (1968), which screens at the Siskel this weekend. The movie reworks the same themes of lost love and fragmented memory as the other two films, but in a more prosaic style that only increases its power. A failed suicide (Claude Rich) is recruited to test a time-travel device; he’s set to go back one year, but he becomes, as Kurt Vonnegut would dub it in 1969, unstuck. Unlike Resnais’s flashier earlier films, it simply cuts from one scene to the next, utilizing the film medium’s inherent capacity for time travel to make its point. The chronology is shuffled; the movie sometimes jumps back half a beat or repeats footage, but every moment gets equal weight. (Not to cite another film school text, but I was reminded of Stan Brakhage’s “Window Water Baby Moving.”)
It’s been suggested that Je T’Aime, Je T’Aime provided a blueprint for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a connection almost impossible not to draw while watching it. In its structural freefall, it also holds the DNA for Shane Carruth’s Primer (a.k.a. the should-have-been cult film of the last decade), and the biomorphic time machine resembles the game pods of David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ. Indeed, this may be one of the most influential films you’ve never seen. Simultaneously a love story and a mystery, Je T’Aime, Je T’Aime is nearly impossible to parse on one viewing. You’ll have two chances: Tomorrow at 3pm and Monday at 6pm.









In anticipation of the release of The Twilight Saga: New Moon, Time Out Chicago’s Hank Sartin and 
In anticipation of the release of The Twilight Saga: New Moon, Time Out Chicago’s Hank Sartin and
In anticipation of the release of The Twilight Saga: New Moon, Time Out Chicago’s Hank Sartin and