Diva is just the sort of film that American movie critics love: big on style and short on substance. And, of course, because it’s French. It’s the kind of film that gets called ‘scintillating’, or 'fabulous, frothy fun’. It doesn’t, however, have any real passion, nor any acting worthy of note. It doesn’t have a theme or any real direction, but what it does have is art direction. It’s the only film I’ve ever seen where a whole sequence has been designed around a packet of cigarettes–the colour of the walls, the set decoration, the costumes, everything exists to complement a packet of Gitanes. It’s an art director’s film and the name of the art director is Hilton Mocconnico. Hilton’s film is, I guess, what you’d call a New Wave film. It’s a post-punk, hyper-modern, ultra-realist sort of subject. It’s fresh and shiny, like one of those glum-looking models that stare out at you from the pages of The Face. It also features musical selections from the noted opera La Wally–une de mes favorites. A lot of people like Diva, which became an instant cult when it opened.