Harry is perhaps the main selling point for Unmade Beds: she features on the front cover, and is mentioned in capitals on the back cover blurb before Poe himself - despite the fact that the rest of the blurb can be summarised as: ‘this is a historically important film by a historically important filmmaker.’ The Blondie singer is indeed a highlight of the film, but is nowhere near enough to carry the whole venture.

Unmade Beds is a homage to Jean-Luc Goddard’s Breathless, as declared by the DVD’s front cover, and also throughout the film itself, explicitly or in references (in this regard, any review from me is somewhat useless and futile, as I have not seen Breathless…). The film begins with a monologue, spoken in French, that presents a synopsis of Unmade Beds; this is subtitled in English, and accompanied by super-imposed images. Debbie Harry’s fleeting role is actually one of the first scenes, culminating in perhaps the most memorable moment of the film: a jazzy song sung directly to camera, with Harry switching between a more traditional voice and a punkier delivery akin to her vocals for Blondie. Thereafter the film settles into its stride, following Rico, a photographer, as he walks New York with his camera and has deep conversations about the nature of film and photography in his flat - adorned with Breathless posters. These conversations are peppered with meaningful, if often stilted, dialogue, making the film feel overburdened to the extent that it’s unclear whether it is in fact intended as parody. The narrative itself is vague and seems to involve a dream/premonition/desire on the part of Rico that sees him getting shot by a gangster - I’m presuming representing a character from Breathless. The scene of the shooting climaxes in a genuinely beautiful shot of Rico staggering in slow-motion down a New York street; beyond its filmic beauty, the scene also highlights one of Unmade Beds’ strongest points: its depiction of New York. Clearly filmed on the tightest budget, the film features many outdoor shots, capturing New York’s street life and architecture. I must admit that seeing those buildings, rooftops, and sometimes grimy streets was the most enjoyable aspect of the film for me.

Like many films of its ilk, Unmade Beds is more affecting in the days after viewing it than during its 77 minute duration. The themes it examines, the existential torments of Rico the artist, play on the mind long after the film has ended. Whilst it is a weighty film, it is also playful and knowing - for example, the scene where Rico tells a woman (who looks very similar to Breathless’ Jean Seberg) that she reminds him of someone… Though it isn’t a long film, Unmade Beds was a laborious watch for me at points, however, it has bounced around in my brain ever since; I certainly want to watch Breathless and then revisit Poe’s film. To return to the introduction, I think that this is really a film for those interested in the New York No Wave scene, though die hard Blondie completists won’t be disappointed with Debbie Harry’s minor appearance.