Betty Blue (English translation of "37°2 le Matin")

At age 15, I went to see "37°2 le Matin", expecting something profoundly intellectual (French movies usually are). To my embarrassment, it opened with an explicit sex scene. It's one of the most intense, passionate movies I know. This made reading Philippe Djian's eponymous novel difficult. (A director's cut of the movie follows it faithfully.) The fairly plotless story, about a failed writer and his love for the manic-depressive Betty, shows them traversing France as slackers avant la lettre. It's funny, fast, and passionate, even in translation (kudos, Howard Buten); but it lacks the movie's soft colors and Béatrice Dalle.