This remake of the old Jean-Luc Godard classic pretty much fucks it all up and I mean that as a compliment. Director Jim McBride goes more ridiculous and makes the film’s petty hood antihero even more obnoxious. It’s a piece of cinematic graffiti with major studio backing, colorful, rude and wrong (and on the shortlist of the weirdest films to bear the Orion Pictures logo). It’s a film that constantly dares you to hate it, and many do, but if you’re a movie lover who can make that leap where you don’t need the lead character to be likable (oh boy, is Richard Gere a total twat here), you might be able to groove to this flick’s neon-lit insanity.
Me, I consider the original Breathless to be a jazz interpretation of classic lowdown pulp. It wanders through its story. It stops and starts. Godard plays the melody of an old crime plot standard (crook shoots cop and then makes a doomed effort at survival as a wanted man), but to a crazy new rhythm that downplays the suspense and redefines the song.
This remake is a cover of that old tune, but this time it’s full-on 80s punk/new wave that recognizes its rockabilly heritage. Like most bands of that type, this version of Breathless boasts a confrontational front man (Richard Gere, going nuts, getting crazy, stripping naked and waging an assault on the audience’s nerves). It also leaps into its sensational elements (sex and violence) without much tasteful build-up. It’s loud, sometimes ugly and moves fast. Most people are going to hate it, but it rules.