Many critics consider this 1967 Godard film to be among his very best, with several stating flatly it's the hands-down winner. (Amy Taubin makes an interesting case for this point of view in her essay for the current Criterion release.) I don't share that opinion, nor would I recommend this film as an introduction to Godard's work for the novice viewer. That said, there's still plenty to fascinate. Most of his usual markers (gorgeous actress front and center, prostitution as a plot device -- in this instance, used to pay for the heroine's middle-class lifestyle -- contempt for America and the Vietnam war, use of alienation devices that make Brecht look like Walt Disney) are on display, with varying degrees of impact. Godard's whispered narration is wearying; even with subtitles, that constant hissing annoys. But what a pleasure, after years of bad art-house prints, to see the cinematography, vibrant in its restoration, snap, crackle and pop with the comic-book vigor intended. This movie's gorgeous, the visuals are frequently laugh-out-loud funny, and, despite its obscurities and eccentricities, leaves the viewer pondering its message for days. Repays investigation for the dedicated viewer.