For roughly 65 of the 90 years she walked among us mere mortals, Agnès Varda made movies. The petite photographer-turned-filmmaker was considered a card-carrying member of the nouvelle vague, even though her first feature, 1955’s La Pointe Courte, predated the French New Wave’s big bang. It was not uncommon to see Varda strolling around festivals well into her late eighties, a world-cinema éminence grise with a two-toned ‘do and a mile-wide smile. She made dramas, comedies, semi-musicals, documentaries and essayistic looks at everything from contemporary gleaners to her own creative process. Her work could be breezy, and blithe, and occasionally unflinchingly brutal (see Vagabond). When showed up in her own movies — and during her grandmotherly lioness-in-winter phase, she appeared onscreen quite often — you could feel the warmth emanating from the screen. Her passing in March of this year left behind an invaluable back catalog, and a hole that will never be filled. The chance to spend a few more hours with the director is a gift, and if that was the all that Varda by Agnès provided for her legion of fans, that would still be more than enough. But this final work, culled from a number of…