When Film at Lincoln Center put on a retrospective of Agnès Varda’s films in January 2020, I dedicated myself to hauling multiple friends to the Upper West side to see as many of her films as I could pay for. I’d first seen Varda’s most famous film, Cleo from 5 to 7, years before, when I didn’t like anything about my life and felt like I was underwater. Cleo’s rebirth from haughty pop star to authentic woman had felt like a breath of fresh air, which I clung to for months until I was able to come up for air myself. As a benediction to Agnès Varda, I’d promised myself that I’d see her work anytime it screened at theaters in New York.
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