Bad Blood 4K 1986 Ultra HD 2160p

Well, there you go. The further we go, the closer we get to the present—having pushed off from the complete zero that is “Strangulations blues” and caught our eye on “Boy Meets Girl”—the more eyes we see fixed on “Bad Blood.” Almost twice as many. The progress is clear.

What am I doing? For the past two hours, I’ve been playing the same album over and over, the same music. Sigur Rós. (). Those who’ve heard it will understand. For me—today—there’s no hope. I haven’t felt this lousy in a long time.

But let’s get back to Karaks. What did he do? Back in 1986? I wasn’t even born yet, but his *Bad Blood* was already bursting with colors so breathtaking—as if the painting hadn’t dried yet, and the artist had stepped away for a few minutes to give you beauty, fresh and still warm.

It’s everywhere—in the snow-white skin of seventeen-year-old Julie Delpy. In her clear, tear-stained eyes. “Once… maybe twice…”

And in the sleepy, bewildered Anne, in her flushed cheeks and frightened gaze. Binoche’s performance is magnificent. The fear of emptiness, of loneliness, when you realize that everything is gone but are afraid to let go—you understand, yet you don’t want to believe it... And what was once “forever” has turned into a habit. Love doesn’t burn in their hearts—Marc’s and Anna’s—but quietly smolders. It sleeps. And what’s going on inside Anna—her anxieties, fears, and confusion—Juliette conveys without excessive emotion, without overacting, and without unnecessary words. It’s no coincidence that Carax made her character much older, without making her look older. It all boils down to this: alongside Mark—a man much older than her—Anna drifts through life, languishing in a liturgical slumber, never truly loving anyone, neither giving nor taking. She’s a mummy. A feeling preserved in alcohol—stagnant and, naturally, endless. And without a new beginning.

Alex... he’s become someone else. He’s changed. Sure, he still rescues girls and teaches them about love, but doesn’t it seem to you that he’s gotten himself all tangled up? In a world where people make love without love (what a sensation! Forgive my cynicism); in a city whose streets are clearly haunted by Her—a woman in a white dress with dark hair; it’s a shame I can’t make out her face, but even that was enough for Alex to fall in love... And what happens? He projects this image of the “beautiful stranger” onto Anna, the first person he meets. And so it begins—a fight, a nighttime run to the tune of David Bowie’s “Modern Love.” Alex beats himself—in the stomach, in the chest. Something is lodged inside… A knot that only a bullet could untangle. And another encounter—with a stranger. So she’s not the one… But who is?

What had been sitting inside burst out. And the roar of a plane taking off won’t be able to drown out the beautiful music pouring from the chest of the now-liberated Anna.