I just tried and failed to get into a 2 pm showing of Kleber Mendonca Filho’s The Secret Agent (which I have a ticket to see late Monday morning inside the Grand Lumière), and now I’m seated inside the Salle Agnes Varda to see Raul Peck’s George Orwell doc at 4 pm.
But I won’t be able to see the whole thing (it runs two hours) as I have a ticket to see Wes Anderson’s The Phoenician Scheme at 6pm. If I want to avoid the agonizing Debussy balcony I’ll need to line up by 5:30 pm.
And yet, to be honest, I have a vague “problem” with the Varda. Or my eyelids do. The red Varda seats are so soft and cushy that I may wind up drifting off. I’ve caught a couple of great sleeps here before so don’t tell me. The body wants what it wants.
