Like Anna Karina's Anna

A holy grail landed on my doorstep the other day. Years ago, while navigating my way through late-night German television, I stumbled upon Pierre Koralnik's 1967 téléfilm Anna, starring Filmbrain muse Anna Karina. My knowledge of the film at the time was limited to the Serge Gainsbourg soundtrack, with its famous cover photo of the former Mrs. Godard looking a bit blue in the face. And though tired and drunk on Kräuterlikör, I was positively mesmerized by this psychedelic mod-pop musical. Attempts at obtaining a copy of the film led to numerous dead-ends over the years, but my persistence finally paid off, for I now possess a DVD of the film that, while not the best quality, allows me to indulge, repeatedly, in this forgotten minor-masterpiece of 60s culture. I'm convinced Anna would not be languishing in relative obscurity had it not been a made-for-TV movie. A combination of Godard's playful subversions and Jacques Demy's candy-colored musical romanticism, Anna is a uniquely fascinating document of the era, as well as a monument to both pop-culture and the pre-'68 Paris scene. Sure, it may not stand up to intellectual scrutiny, but at the very least deserves a prominent place in the history of the French musical. Anna opens with a bang — a politically charged scene that calls to mind the work of Otto Mühl and the Viennese Actionists: a large group, decked out in sportswear and clear plastic coats, attack each other with paint. (Viet Nam allusion cum fashion statement?) It's a remarkable sequence that is in no way indicative of the wafer-thin romantic drama that follows, though the film does occasionally lapse into Fellini-esque anti-war musical sequences, including GI Joe, one of enfant terrible Gainsbourg's more acerbic songs. (GI Joe you will die under the American flag/GI Joe all the rockets will have your American skin!) Though the DVD is without subtitles, the story couldn't be simpler — Successful ad-man Jean-Claude Brialy has fallen in love with a face on a photograph. Obsessed with finding this woman, it's not long before giant posters of the image are plastered all across Paris. (Blowup influences abound.) The face belongs to Ms. Karina (natch), the titular Anna, a dreamer who spends a fair amount of her time wondering if she'll ever find Mr. Right. And though she works in the same ad agency as Brialy, he doesn't recognize her as the mysterious beauty because she (get this) wears glasses! (Yes, that staple of the 80s music video is here a major plot point.)

Save for a few moments of actual dialog, the story is told primarily through Gainsbourg's songs, which are sung (though in the case of Brialy, spoken-sung) by the characters. A young Marianne Faithfull turns in a wonderful rendition of Hier ou Demain, and Gainsbourg himself is on hand for a few duets. These are easily some of his strongest compositions, and some view Anna as the precursor to his 1971 masterpiece Histoire de Melody Nelson. Here he shows off both his pop-hit skills (the classic Sous Le Soleil Exactement and the Wild Thing-inspired Roller Girl) as well as his talent as orchestral composer, which at times sounds very Bacharach-esque: Download Sous Le Soleil Exactement (Orchestral Version) Koralnik (who would go on to direct the disappointing Cannabis) borrows from several of his contemporaries — his street scenes have Truffaut written all over them, his use of non-diegetic sound (pinball machines are heard throughout) is reminiscent of Godard, and its overall approach to the musical is rooted in Demy's Les Parapluies de Cherbourg. But first and foremost, Anna is a genuine paean to its star, and Koralnik films her as lovingly as Jean-Luc did years earlier. She's shot almost entirely in close-ups, and at times the film feels like an extended study of her facial expressions. It's an Anna Karina-fetishist's dream come true, and seals her place as one of cinema's most beautiful women. It high time that Anna was rescued from the land of the forgotten téléfilm and given its due. No future compendium of essential 60s cinema will be complete without it. Though unavailable by any legal means, there are a handful of clips available on YouTube, including the one below, which finds Anna daydreaming about a place directly under the sun. If ever I were to compile a list of scenes I'd want with me on a deserted island, this would certainly be on there. Enjoy: