
1973 · Jean Eustache
How The Mother and the Whore has been received, argued over, and remembered.
It scandalized Cannes 1973 — walkouts, press outrage, and a jury (presided over by an unamused Ingrid Bergman) that still handed it the Grand Prix — and is now routinely called the definitive French film of the post-'68 era, a canonization sealed by its 2022 restoration and triumphant re-release.
The perennial fight: is Alexandre's monologuing a devastating autopsy of male self-absorption or 3.5 hours of the film indulging it — and is the runtime the point or the problem?
For decades it was cinephilia's great holy grail — tied up in rights limbo, nearly impossible to see legitimately, and traded in murky bootlegs — so its restoration and re-release became a genuine event; it's also the ur-text people reach for whenever a movie is just beautiful people talking in cafés and bedrooms.
A 'you haven't really done French cinema until you've done this' title — long a rumor more than a film, now a Letterboxd heavyweight that top-100 lists treat as non-negotiable.