Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962)

On a whim, I decided to watch something playing at the AFI Silver Theater today. This French oldie was playing at a convenient time for me. That's right: 5 p.m. Since it showed only once today, I can only assume someone chose the slot on purpose.

Cléo (Corinne Marchand) is a fairly successful singer, albeit not widely recognized on the street. Expecting to take an exam for a potential cancer diagnosis soon, she visits a tarot reader (Loye Payen), whose verdict is unpromising. Convinced of her own doom, Cléo spends most of the film trying to come to grips with it or take her mind off it while doing various things with other people in the city before seeing the doctor (Robert Postec).

It's all in real time, but for only 90 minutes, not 120. We know this partly because writing on the screen tells us the start of each nearly arbitrary "chapter" and the times of day represented. Why this seeming titular deception? Reportedly, "5 à 7" is a figure of speech referring to what people do between the end of a workday and dinner. It used to indicate adultery, but that shouldn't apply to Cléo, who isn't married and whose occasional lover (José Luis de Vilallonga) is not said to be.

From the description, I recalled Ikiru, which also begins with someone becoming certain of terminal cancer. The timeframe makes an obvious difference. Besides, Cléo doesn't keep her illness under wraps and isn't really deciding how to spend the rest of her life, only the present moment. Well, and the very near future of her medical exam.

The opening with the cards is the only part in color, much like the portrait shots in the 1945 The Picture of Dorian Gray or the fashion show in The Women. For another potentially jarring transition, a silent comedy short watched by the characters takes up a chunk of the middle. You can tell it's not actually from the silent era, even if you don't recognize the cameos in it. (The only name that meant anything to me was Jean-Luc Godard.)

Apart from that, I rather admire the cinematography. The camera makes interesting angles and movements. It's easy to read symbolism into Cléo's multiple attires. Sometimes we hear her thoughts, when they're more eloquent than she'd likely convey even with Marchand's fine acting. The location shooting, unconventional for the era, helps draw us in. Director Agnès Varda sure did well for her second feature.

I'm glad I had this whim. Cf5t7 may not be frequently discussed outside of lists of female-specific works, but it's worth a theater ticket if you can get it.