Holy moly, that’s the thing with this movie, just when you think it can’t get any weirder, it gets weirder. There is literally no ‘realism’ at all; all is illusion, all is allegory, as a man makes appointments during one day with business, acting, death, murder, family life and savagery. Holy shit, he’s just bitten off a girl’s fingers and appeared with hard-on after dressing a stolen model in a Burkha. Holy smoke, there’s a lot of cigarettes in this movie. The French try a little too hard with ciggies in film. Holy cow, he lays into Holy-wood with a suicide from a huge white sign and smashing Kylie Minogue's brains all over the pavement and showing that real motion capture sex is better than CGI. Holier than thou though - with a swipe at new media. Carax tries too hard to be surreal and although it works in some of the ‘appointments’, not all. He falls back into juvenile attacks on the inauthenticity of the web, with web addresses on gravestones and a garage full of lumbering limousines lamenting that “men don’t want visible machines any more”. He ends up sounding like some old codger at a bad dinner party. OK I know you hate ‘digital’ everything, and love to shoot on ’film’ but is this really about the physical medium of film or 'film' the medium? No idea what Holy Motors means but that was half the fun.