francūži
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!)