Jacques Tati, France/Italy, 1967, DCP, 124 min. 

Mr. Hulot is at it again. This time the clumsy, lovable oaf bumbles around modern Paris, a never-ending succession of sight gags,  in which humans buzz around a brave new world of “whatchamacallits” and “thingamajigs” until he meets an American tourist, the similarly befuddled, Barbara. A massive, multi-year production, in which the city is the symphony, nearly wordless in its orchestration, but nevertheless loud in its avant-garde social critique from Jacques Tati.