My Life to Live: A Dive into Existential Whirlpools

Listen, Jean-Luc Godard’s “My Life to Live” is one of those films ya gotta chew on, like a tough bit of Swedish knackebröd. It’s not just a movie; it’s an experience, almost like walking through Gamla Stan on a misty November evening, all moody and introspective. Godard paints a picture that’s philosophical yet beautifully mundane, like listening to jazz when you’re feeling a bit existential.

Anna Karina, the enigmatic force behind this film, is nothing short of mesmerizing. Her portrayal of Nana, a Parisian woman drifting into the dark alleyways of life choices, is both poignant and disconcerting. I remember watching this film for the first time years ago, when I skipped a night at the krogen to stay home alone—a rarity, mind you. As Karina’s eyes flickered onscreen, I felt like I was peering into the soul of Stockholm at 3 a.m.—quiet, yet buzzing with unspoken stories.

The film’s episodic nature is intriguing, albeit a tad jarring at times. It’s like that feeling you get when you try surströmming for the first time—strong, overwhelming, and maybe not for everyone. Godard’s direction dances on the line between narrative and reality, and there’s this lingering feeling like you’re eavesdropping on someone’s extremely profound pillow talk.

Now, it’s not all roses. The pacing, akin to a slow trudge in slushy February weather, might leave some folk tapping their feet. But, I guess, that’s the point—making us wait, making us think.

The film’s existential tones had me recalling a summer evening at Djurgården, contemplating life’s twists—det är livet, you know? Maybe it’s best appreciated with that mindset, a slow brew of thoughts and feelings. So, dust off that jaded philosophical lens and give it a go. Life’s too short, and this film’s too dear to be missed.

Check the trailer below