- When we first meet her at 5 PM, Cléo (Corinne Marchand) is worried about dying, and with good reason. She recently discovered that she has stomach cancer and expects an update on her prognosis in two hours. A local fortune teller tries to put a positive spin on things, but the tarot cards honestly don't look so good. The usual diversions, such as hat shopping with her redoubtable maid (Dominique Davray), don't seem to be helping. She tries taking a mid-afternoon nap but is interrupted by her debonair lover (José Luis de Vilallonga) and her fellow musicians (Michel Legrand, Serge Korber). The song they practice takes a turn for the emotional, and Cléo calls off the rehearsal. Broken mirrors abound.
- While wandering the streets of Paris, Cléo notices a busker who swallows frogs for his act. She plays one of her own songs on a cafe jukebox and is alarmed to see that nobody cares. Her vivacious friend Dorothée (Dorothée Blanck) drives Cléo to watch a classic silent movie, but the weak imitation of a Buster Keaton picture -- executed awkwardly by Jean-Luc Godard, Anna Karina, and Eddie Constantine -- fails to improve her mood. Finally, Cléo takes a quiet stroll through the park, where she encounters a man named Antoine (Antoine Bourseiller). On leave from Algeria, Antoine is just as lonely as Cléo. The two go off to find her doctor.
- As a meditation on how how illness can transform a person's life and the various ways in which men view women, Cléo from 5 to 7 is quite effective. As a street-level tour of early 60's Paris, though, it's downright astounding. Director Agnès Varda proves an absolute master of the moving camera in this, her second feature-length film. Sometimes the camera hitches a ride in a taxi, a convertible, or a streetcar. At other times, it more or less keeps pace with Cléo and her friends, occasionally skipping ahead to glance back at its subjects and then allowing them to catch up. Honestly, the only boring part of this film occurs when Varda hands the reins to Godard. Interpret that as you will.
