When Yves begins dating a sassy guidette singer named Maria (Flora Barillaro) who has no qualms about speaking her mind, especially when it comes to the negative qualities of modern men, Michel faces criticism for the first time in regard to being in an ostensibly hot and steamy love affair with a keychain, but he is so deeply enamored with the pretty piece of plastic that he does not even care and barely notices the little lady's harsh remarks. Indeed, when Maria notices that Michel is more interested in whistling to his keychain than staring at her tits, she becomes infuriated, bitches at him, “You’d like a girl like that, wouldn’t you? You whistle and she…’I love you! I love you!’ Wouldn’t you like that? That’s what you’d want to have. A submissive girl, always ready. That’s your ideal woman. An object at your service!” and then slaps him in the face. Later that same night, Michel notices that a porn flick is playing on his TV, so he decides to place his keychain lover on the television screen and then proceeds to masturbate while staring intensely at the particularly odd object of his desire in a bizarre quasi-avant-garde scene that is not atypical of auteur Ferreri's films from the 1980s. The next morning, Michel sentimentally states to his keychain regarding the ‘sex’ that they had the night before, “It was nice yesterday. The first time is not always good. It went fine last night. Don’t get all worked up just because you made it. You are a keyholder and you must hold the keys,” thus indicating the patently preposterous state of the protagonist's psyche. When a dorky Jewish guy named Pierre (Marc Berman) comes by Michel’s work and demands a train ticket to Japan (!), the protagonist is surprised to discover that he is not the only man in town that is love with a talking keychain. Indeed, Michel and Pierre bond over their mutual love of their almost identical keychains, with the two drinking champagne and declaring a toast, “To our dreams.” Of course, Pierre becomes jealous of Michel when he whistles at his keychain too many times. Later in the film, Michel goes by Pierre's house and not only discovers that his middle-aged friend still lives with his mother, who absurdly describes the keychain as “my son's girlfriend,” but also that he has a painting of his plastic lover hanging on the wall of his home. Rather ridiculously, the only thing that bothers Michel in regard to Pierre's keychain painting is that the imaginary woman in the portrait has slightly different colored eyes from his own keychain.
If there is anything to learn from I Love You and its importance in the context of the director’s entire oeuvre, it is that auteur Marco Ferreri felt that society had become all the more irreparably screwed up since the counterculture era, hence why he probably decided to incorporate excerpts from both Dillinger Is Dead and vintage erotic commercials featuring nude women into the film. While the true meaning behind the somewhat bizarre, ostensibly happy conclusion of Dillinger Is Dead is disputable (though it seems to insinuate that the bourgeois protagonist played by Piccoli has gone completely insane and has embraced a sort of Utopian fantasy realm was inspired by TV commercials), I Love You ends in an unequivocally unhappy fashion that makes it quite clear that Ferreri thought that even the escapist fantasy realm was no longer a possibility for disillusioned men due to the glaringly culturally apocalyptic reality of Europa during that time. Of course, it is only fitting that the film takes place in France, which is the land of decadence par excellence, especially where social and sexual matters are concerned. After all, despite being a handsome chick-magnet with an Adonis-like physique, the lead protagonist of I Love You is completely lacking in even the most rudimentary virtues of masculinity, not to mention the fact that he is an arrogant dolt and virtual walking hard-on whose delusional love for a keychain is probably the direct result of his infantile narcissism as a mensch that becomes stupidly happy as a result of being told “I love you” at anytime of the day simply by whistling and not as a result of certain desirable character traits that he might display. I also do not think it is a coincidence that Lambert’s character loathes the idea of having a child of his own and instead shows quasi-fatherly affection to both a seemingly autistic Chinese boy and black piglet, as such behavior epitomizes the sort of cultural cuckoldry, ethno-masochistic altruism, and hysterical animals rights activism that has become synonymous with contemporary neo-liberal Europe, especially France, over the past couple of decades. After all, a healthy race of people strives to procreate and sire new generations of all the more strong progeny to take their place so that their legacy can continue and would never dare dream of wasting their time and resources on hostile alien races, yet France, like much of Europe, has senselessly become the adoptive parent for the world’s most unlovable untermenschen and now it is finally beginning to really bite them in the ass, hence the escalating towelhead terrorist attacks that have occurred in 2015.
It should be noted that in the documentary Marco Ferreri: The Director Who Came from the Future, Ferreri prophesies the Islamic Arab-negro menace in an interview where he states in regard to the pathological naivety and arrogance of white liberal Europeans, “We think we know everything thanks to the airplane. Instead, we don’t know…We don’t know anything. We think we know it all. We arrive by plane somewhere with lovely hotels and we think we’ve known that place. Now we’re entering a period of religious wars. The Muslim Brotherhood and Islam are coming to the fore. It’s a more political voice than Catholicism.” Notably, in the same doc, Ferreri would also prophetically state, “Geographically, Europe is very small. It’s a fortress that thinks it’s invincible, but it isn’t. It’s surrounded and under siege by peoples who are less technologically advanced but more motivated than we are.” Needless to say, Ferreri would have probably been the most fit director to cinematically adapt the racially-charged and oftentimes satirical dystopian novel The Camp of the Saints (1973) aka Le Camp des Saints by French novelist Jean Raspail which depicts an eerily probable near-future where France and the rest of Western Civilization are destroyed as a result of political impotence and left-wing support of the flooding of Europe with (sub)human rabble from the third world. In his little seen flick Ya bon les blancs (1988) aka How Good the Whites Are where a couple of hopelessly naive European do-gooder ‘activist’ types are eaten by a tribe of cannibalistic sand negroes who could care less about the supposedly humanistic ways of the white man, Ferreri would ultimately foretell the sort of mayhem that would ensue as a result of so-called multiculturalism, globalization, and liberal altruism, among other socially suicidal metaphysical afflictions that have only gotten all the more worse since the film was originally released over a quarter of a century ago.
Of course, the overall massive decline of Europe is a direct consequence of the progressive emasculation and moral degeneration of European man as is depicted in I Love You. While Ferreri oftentimes rightly described himself as an anarchist, he certainly subscribed to a sort of quasi-Spenglerian Weltanschauung where he obsessed over the progressive rotting of the Occident, especially when it came to the worsening disharmony being the sexes and the disintegration of traditional European mores and customs, hence why the filmmaker once matter-of-factly stated regarding his own work, “The values that once existed no longer exist. The family, the bourgeoisie – I’m talking about values, morals, economic relationships. They no longer serve a purpose. My films are reactions translated into images.” Of course, as a man that made a film about a fellow who falls in love with an artificially beautiful keychain, Ferreri would probably not be surprised to know that we now live in an era where people are so vain and artificial that it is not common for girls get their labias chopped off or receive ass implants and lip injections. Certainly, one cannot also forget the rise in popularity of porn, sex toys, and sex robots, among other dubious pseudo-erotic inventions that indicate that people are becoming increasingly sensually autistic. Despite being totally forgotten today, I Love You ultimately predates Spike Jonze’s obscenely overrated film Her (2013) by almost three decades in terms of its depiction of a spiritually castrated virtual automaton who pathetically falls in love with a piece of manmade technology and thus it is begging to be reexamined by contemporary cinephiles, even if it is one of Ferreri’s lesser works. In an intrinsically culturally and socially suicidal era where it is trendy for Hollywood celebrities to adopt black African spawn as personal accessories and Europeans are refusing to get married and have kids while their criminal socialist governments tax them to death so that they can subsidize the bastard brood of hostile illegal immigrants of the mostly Islamic Arab and negro sort who breed like rats and transform cities into crime-ridden no-go-zones where rape, especially of white women, is considered a virtual god-given right, Ferreri’s films are more important than ever but unfortunately, as Spengler once wrote in regard to the fragile nature of art, “One day the last portrait of Rembrandt and the last bar of Mozart will have ceased to be — though possibly a colored canvas and a sheet of notes will remain — because the last eye and the last ear accessible to their message will have gone.”