Informers Inform, Burglars Burgle, Murderers Murder, Lovers Love: Breathless (1960)

I am once again in the throes of a blogathon, this time hosted by the excellent blogs Once upon a screen... and Classic Movie Hub Blog.  The topic: "Dynamic Duos in Classic Film."  I was a bit late to the sign-up for this blogathon, so missed the chance to jump on some of the real classic duos, both in terms of romance and comedy, which is fine, because I have read the work of many of the bloggers involved and I am certain that they will more than do justice to the topics.  As such, I decided a bit of creativity could not hurt in the endeavor and I began to think of a dynamic duo within the context of classic film, pre-1970, that managed to hearken back to an earlier period, while still remaining within the confines of "classic."  I realize that this may have seemed like an absurd endeavor, but considering that the collective of the sixties were a watershed moment in history, it by extension assumes that the same rings true for movies as well.  With that in mind, I realized that I had the perfect offering for this blogathon with what may well be the most important work to come out of the 1960's in Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless.  The now well-established classic was by many accounts, the premier film in the French New Wave movement and invariably changed the language one uses to describe cinema.  This masterwork in European filmmaking, is a rare treasure that offers many varied and legitimate critical levels, while also proving and fresh and unique viewing experience.  Trust me, I have seen the film countless times and it only proves more engaging, the more my cinematic language and consumption matures.  In fact, the current Criterion bluray available only helps to add layers to the film's conceptual framework.  I say all this to set up how it is very much a work that exists within the important film's involving dynamic duos.  Part romantic comedy, part crime thriller there is, excluding Tarantino, perhaps not a more cinematically referential work than Godard's 1960 breakout hit and one of its many points of reference come in the duos of classic noir thrillers, wherein Godard borrows the dynamism of the genre and its gendered duos, using its tropes to push his hip, wild and fast-paced narrative, while also completely calling attention to the frailty of the structure of such an assumedly dynamic pairing.  If some of the other works mentioned during this blogathon embrace the lasting nature of the romantic dynamic duo, it is fair to say that Breathless makes viewers aware of both the performance involved in such duality, while also suggesting that at some point the differences in the duo will result in a collision of fatal proportions.

While the film is about a romantic coupling to a degree, it does begin focusing primarily on the film's "protagonist" Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) a part-time thief and full-time woman admirer, who is constantly on a quest to make money, while spouting his own frustrations and problems with the opposite sex.  Indeed, Michel makes it quite clear that women, in his eyes, are incapable of functioning on any legitimate societal level, taking particular disdain in their always being broke and their being terrible drivers, never mind that he himself is constantly without money and certainly is not the most sane or logical of automobile operators.  When an auto theft goes awry and Michel murders a cop to save his own life, he moves into a constant state of paranoia and flight from authorities, which seems to be fine, until he runs into Patricia (Jean Seberg) an American living in Paris while working as a correspondent/salesperson for the European branch of The New York Herald-Tribune.  While the narrative does not outright express it as fact, it is assumed that Patricia and Michel have had some intimate past together, indeed, Michel admits to returning to visit her, almost entirely on a desire to have sex.  Patricia who is initially dismissive of Michel due to his one-track mind and his flippant attitude towards her and most women, nonetheless, agrees to spend time with him, when he seeks shelter from the authorities in her apartment.  At this point the two spend an entire afternoon, evening and morning discussing the ethics of love, lust and humanity, while engaging in intercourse.  In the process, the two become more romantically entwined than before, admitting their deep affection for one another and while they would enjoy the possibility of staying in the moment, Patricia must return to work, while Michel must accrue the necessary funds to flee from his imminent arrest.  It is while Patricia is at work that French police approach her with information regarding Michel, threatening her livelihood and visa status should she not help their investigation.  At first, Patricia is committed to her affections for Michel and stays by his side, yet when it becomes clear that he is still occupied with his criminal life, Patricia breaks down and reports his location to the police, an act she clearly regrets immediately.  Irony arises when the two are driving and the police finally catch up with Michel, only moments after he obtains the money he as been seeking since the onset of the film.  Realizing the futility of the entire endeavor he flees down the street, only to be gunned down by officers.  Patricia distraught runs to Michel's aide and stares at him as he slowly fades into death.  Michel simply dismisses her and her foolishness, claiming that her betrayal makes him want to puke, although a language barrier causes Patricia, in the closing moments of the film, to wonder exactly what "puke" means.

It is precisely this closing moment of Patricia being "lost in translation" as it were, that speaks to the particular dynamism of the duo of Michel and Patricia.  Language being the first obvious difference between the two, lays out a duality of difference that is often challenged, ignored and undermined in the hopes that the two can create some degree of a lasting and meaningful romance together.  Many of the classic Hollywood comedic duos play upon this difference, while, ultimately, noting that the pair can overcome adversity and find a powerful force in love, and Breathless, certainly borrows from that tradition.  However, Godard has over the years been very expressive of the major influence the genre of film noir had on his works, particularly this and Alphaville.  In as much, Michel and Patricia are as much a hapless hero and femme fatale, as they are a romantic comedic pairing.  However, even this is revisionist to a heavy degree, because Michel, while misogynist and a criminal, does not exude the same hardboiled chiseled nature of his idol Humphrey Bogart, in fact, when his absurdly effeminate mugshot appears in the papers, one cannot help but laugh at how non-threatening he looks, despite having committed a murder earlier in the film.  He is not the traditional masculine figure of the genre, just as Patricia is not truly a femme fatale.  Sure it is her betrayal that causes his downfall, but there is not the sense of remorselessness that comes with a Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity.  The duo is not a pair of drifting individuals who come together for a fleeting moment, but instead to opposing forces, that find themselves so magnetically drawn to each other that their cohesion factors heavily into the film.  The hotel room scene, where they consummate their love for one another, lasts roughly thirty plus minutes, nearly constituting half of the film, which is deservedly so, because what happens prior is their movement at a high speed towards one another, while the post-apartment moments represent the aftermath of their collision, which has a very fatal result for Michel.  The ignorance of Patricia at the films closing could be read as demeaning to her character, but I think it simply speaks to a larger issue of duality in love, where ideologies never truly mesh and because of such inherent miscommunication one partner is always far less aware of the damage done to the other, so while it is literal in the film, it plays into a much larger metaphorical statement.  In the end, Godard is clearly claiming that love can arise between even the most unusual of duos, and while it can certainly burst through barriers of language, ideology and personal desire, doing so also runs the risk of one or both of the people involved being trampled in the process, or in the case of this film being shot in the streets of Paris.

Key Scene:  While it is quite an extended bit to consider a scene, I do thing the entirety of the dialogue and interactions occurring within the apartment, might be the single greatest moment in modern cinema.

Criterion Bluray.  Buy it...for your health.

This Isn't A Novel, This Is A Film. A Film Is Life: Weekend (1967)

My last review of a Godard film was less than positive.  I find the director to be more pretentious and less accessible than he has been in previous decades and appears to have no concern with making any sort of relationship with his viewers.  This problem appears to have really occurred within the past two decades and only seems to worsen with each of his subsequent films.  With that in mind, there was a time when he was a master of non-linear cinema that pushed the envelopes of the profane image in film and what political purposes a piece of cinema could provide.  Weekend, one of Godard's more difficult to obtain films, and perhaps his most curious works.  I would by no means place it above my personal favorite Alphaville, nor would I say it is better than Breathless or Contempt, however, it would most certainly find itself jostling for the fourth or fifth spot on a list of his key works.  At this point in Godard's rather controversial career, he had yet to have fallen completely out of regard to many critics and had one of his more respected followings second only to his heightened fame during the French New Wave.  Politically speaking, at this point in his career the outspoken filmmaker was mastering his Marxist heavy voice, one that was at times critical of the contempt directed at the bourgeois, while also being completely aware of the legitimate suffering faced by many foreigners and working class persons of Paris during the late 60's.  In a fashion that could be called Godardian in its creation, the director manages to take what we assume to be a comedy for a better portion of the film and completely drop it on its head, ultimately becoming a dark horror film about societal disconnect and a literal man eat man mentality that emerged with the obsession with consumerism that popped up in the mid-1900's.  If we were to take this solely on its political ideologies and how the narrative pokes fun at French history in order to advance his point, this would be Godard's masterpiece, however, it lacks a complete character evolution that has become so integral to the filmmaker.  To be fair though, the character count in this film is quite large and he does manage to make each person interact substantially with the world around him and for that Godard should be praised.  Ultimately, Weekend is a film that exudes the temperament and concerns of late sixties commentaries while still managing to possess a timelessness, perhaps the most Godard thing about each of his films.

Weekend, for what contextual narrative it possesses, focuses on a bickering married couple known as the Durands.  There is Corinne (Mireille Darc) a soft-spoken housewife who may or may not partake in bizarre sexual encounters in her free time and Roland (Jean Yanne) an explosively angry man who clearly suffers from impotent rage, something he takes out on various individuals throughout the film.  The Durand's are attempting to make it through the French countryside to make it to Corinne's dying father with the intent of racking up a huge inheritance.  However, the two also have the intention of killing one another in order to reap the money for themselves and each of their respective lovers.  The tension that results from such underlying confrontations influences how they engage with the various characters they meet on their pseudo-pilgrimage.  The people they encounter range from the mundane, such as two politically fueled garbagemen to a Mozart praising pianist who claims to be the worst musician alive, as well as the completely absurd as is the case with a man who claims to be the love child of Alexander Dumas and God or the ditsy version of Emily Bronte and her mentally challenged friend Tom Thumb.  A large portion of the interactions within the film end in rather violent means often in shootouts, wrecks, and even incineration, clearly the result of the couples unfulfilled desire to murder one another.  Not only are these interactions clearly frustrating to both Corinne and Roland, they also prove as time wasting endeavors that ultimately mean that they are unable to meet up with Corrine's father and obtain their inheritance.  This failure leads to the couple running into a group of cannibals that eventually kill Roland and cook his body, along with that of other people and a pig, making the statement on Roland's character blatant.  After a seemingly inexplicable shootout between feuding rebels Corrine is depicted returning to the cannibal camp and engaging in a meal, one that includes the flesh of Roland stating that she will eat more of him in a little bit.

It would be easier to comment on what Godard does not comment on in this film than what he does decide to criticize.  It is clear throughout the narrative that the controversial director intends to poke fun at bourgeois privilege, Marxist revolutionaries, guerilla warfare, capitalist frivolity, neo-classicism and racial pride amongst other things.  Furthermore, as is always the case with Godard he clearly intended to deconstruct the notion of cinematic language, so much so that he breaks from his traditional modernist leanings into the post-modern realm and breaks the fourth wall by allowing for the characters to acknowledge their own presence within the film, going so far as to note that they only meet crazy people within the film.  I could go into detail about each of these notions within Weekend, but I am far more inclined to discuss how influenced Godard was by video and television production within this film specifically.  First off, Godard's choice of Darc and Yanne as lead actors reflects his preoccupation with the still new form of media as both of the actors were well regarded for their roles on television by this time in the sixties, but this is only relative to what serves as a stylistic component to his entire film.  Composed as a series of vignettes, Weekend often fades to black inexplicably and repeatedly, something closely associated with cutting to commercials in television.  The genius here comes when Godard simply cuts to more footage of the film.  To Godard, Weekend, film in general, and society as a whole existed in a vacuum of commercialism and television was simply the newest venue with which to tap into the capitalist venture.  With this notion in mind it is somewhat easier to understand where Godard is going with the various diatribes portrayed in the film, almost nonsensical in composition, these various commentaries reflect the fast-based and often jarring style of commercials during television breaks, each does not necessarily preceed or proceed the other, yet they all exist within the same vein of trying to influence the subconscious to desire a particular product, in the case of Godard, to adhere to a particular ideology.  However, as Godard was clever enough to make many of the commentaries contradictory, as is the case with commercially fueled capitalist outputs.  Nothing coexists with the world of Weekend, it is a fabrication to our own world of capitalism, in which no two ideologies can exist simultaneously, because to do so would ruin the competitiveness inherent to the practice.

Key Scene: The traffic jam tracking shot seen is almost incomprehensible in its magnitude and the payoff is well worth the wait.

I was lucky enough to see this a few days ago at a local theater, however, for most people this film had existed in a region lock trap of inaccessibility.  Fortunately, as of a two days ago the film was announced as an upcoming title for The Criterion Collection and should prove to be a great purchase.

no look inthe eyes: Film Socialisme (2010)

Upon finishing Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard by author and film critic Richard Brody I came away with two clear notions.  The first is that Godard has left an indelible mark on the history and construction of cinema since his initial feature film Breathless.  Second, I realized that he has become one of the most divisive and belligerent filmmakers of the past two decades.  While I constantly sing his praises for his earlier work, it is clear that his desire to be a political dissident and destroy the structure that is video have done nothing but ruin his artistic output.  Film Socialisme, could well have been one of the best films of this decade were Godard to have reigned in his animosity for the rest of the world, given its clearly cinematic nature and experimental narrative.  Tragically, his desire to distance viewers, particularly those not speaking French, with incoherent subtitles, like the one that titles this blog entry and his spiraling into ungrounded political attacks cause the film to quickly become unwatchable.  It was only a matter of time before I found myself guessing when Godard would throw in an image of Hitler, and to no surprise, he did so in some of the films closing scenes.  Not to dismiss the work completely, Film Socialism does indeed offer a few moments of cinematic expression rare in contemporary art house cinema, yet as a whole the film is clearly a failed attempt at creating works similar to the early works of Dziga Vertov, or anything by Dusan Makavejev, and ends up lacking the one thing that Godard always had going for him...hipness.  Film Socialisme is a film that attempts to mix political commentary with the exploration of human relationships, however, the concoction lacks far too many ingredients to prove successful, the most apparent being a sane and accessible director.

While Film Socialisme plays out as a series of vignettes, it is possible to glean some basic narrative from the various characters presented throughout the film.  The initial setting of Godard's work is on a cruise ship, as the images cut between glossy shots of the ships deck and the ocean to shots of passengers dancing in a nightclub which are captured in terrible quality by what appears to be a cellphone camera.  In the midst of this entire structure, we are introduced to various members of the cruise, including an aged war criminal, a former official for the United Nations and what appears to be a Soviet detective.  The characters interact to some extent, but without a complete understanding of the multiple languages throughout the film, it is impossible to verify with any certainty their conversations or the seeming ties between each character.  Even when American viewers are offered a familiar language in that of musician Patti Smith she only rambles incoherently about a variety of things.  With little explanation the film then cuts to the interactions of two children as they cope with coming to age and realizing the frivolity of their young lives and as such they begin to question there parents on a variety of issues, including notions of political justice and global equality.  Their conversations are being recorded, for apparently no reason by a film crew who possess clearly revolutionary ties.  These moments while completely absurd reflect Godard's traditional styling; it is when the film reaches the third act that everything falls apart.  The film falls into a slew of still images, news reels and even the title menu for a film, with sections that represent major world locations, including but not limited to Barcelona, Egypt and Odessa.  What connection Godard is attempting to make is quite unclear, but he obviously associates many of the images to fascist rule and violence is shown throughout, particularly as it relates to the Middle Eastern countries depicted.  At one point earlier in the film, Godard even inserts this popular YouTube video again for no apparent reason.  The film closes with the words no comment, implying that Godard desires no confrontation about the images he has depicted, despite their clearly agitating intent and fallacious nature.  Furthermore, in a bizarre twist, Godard filmed the cruise scenes on the recently ill-fated Costa Concordia making the disparate nature of the film almost prophetic.

To dismiss the political and critical commentary of Film Socialisme would be unfair, despite the clear disinterests of Godard to his viewers and society in general.  Film Socialisme is primarily concerned to great detail with what role the movie image plays in societal change.  As the film's tagline suggests, "Freedom is Expensive," making Godard's choice to stage an early portion of the film on a cruise ship pertinent.  The individuals on this ship are attempting to escape their problematic pasts and their large amounts of wealth provide them such an opportunity, yet any attempts to capture their escapes are ruined either by the lack of proper technology, which is best seen in the grainy footage of a party on the ship or inability to capture images properly as occurs with shots of individuals talk to people off camera who are never shown, or the scene later in the film in which one of the revolutionary filmmakers is killed off screen, but the stagnant camera is unable to follow the action.  Godard desperately wants his viewers to understand that the power of video as a means of social justice is impossible and the third act of his film attempts to drive this notion home by suggesting that we as a society have seen atrocities in the past via video and have done little to affect change as a result.  Film Socialisme, as such is a manifesto on the fading power of video in an evolving technocracy that allows those in power to escape media condemnation.  It very much had the possibility of revolutionizing our current cinema standards, yet in the hands of an aging Godard, Film Socialisme is nothing more than a preachy old man shaking his fists with rage and fury so as to ruin any validity to his argument.

Film Socialisme is a unique viewing experience, without a doubt, however, to purchase the film would be illogical unless you are a die hard Godard supporter.  The director has lost his touch and seems incapable of ever gaining it back.  Rent the film if you find yourself intrigued by its controversy.

Loneliness Isn't A Cause of Death: Made in U.S.A (1966)

Jean-Luc Godard's film career is divided into two distinct eras.  The films made as a member of The French New Wave and his political movies that comprise the remainder of his career thus far.  Made in U.S.A is one of the films that serves as a transition between these two eras.  It has the erratic nature, jump cuts and poetic flow of Breathless but also maintains the disconnect, verbosity and Marxism of his later works.  Godard's color palate splashes off the screen as if to recreate a 1940's Hollywood poster, or an equally similar soviet propaganda poster.  The film's use of blood is rampant, yet so stylized that it seems to mock the act of violence in both film and real life as child's play.  It is Godard at his best, making both beautiful film and fine-tuned political statements simultaneously.

Made in U.S.A. is incoherent, but that is to be expected from Godard.  However, the basic story is of Paula Nelson's (Anna Karina) quest to find the whereabouts of her husband Mr.P..., who she discovers to be dead.  However, in between this Paula murders a blackmailer, philosophizes over whiskey and stares despondently into the camera.  To explain anymore would be to ruin the film, because Godard as a filmmaker relies on his image to speak, not the narrative as it is written on paper.  In fact, Godard was infamous for creating dialogue on the fly and this film certainly reflects it with its heavy use of repetition, musical interludes and mimic gestures.  

The politics are what make this movie, particularly as they relate to bureaucracy and its affects of crime and punishment.  In the bar scene, viewers are reminded about the arbitrary nature of language and how by simply rearranging a sentence an item or action become illogical.  Similarly, all of the characters act on their own self-interests.  Nelson feigns interest in detectives, using her sexuality to deter her arrest, literally using her high hell as a sign of femininity to kill a man and eventually steal a gun.  The breaking of glass with her high heel reflects the perfection of femininity becoming a force of dominance over masculinity, particularly the phallic gun.  However, Nelson also uses her genius to escape the law when she agrees to help a young man write his never-ending novel in exchange for keeping quite about the murder.  The cops are by no means productive and often act in contradictory manners throughout the film.  The brilliance comes in Godard's use of a song, which continually mentions the loss of children and the tears that are a result.  Godard is reminding viewers that the hierarchy of power in a bureaucratic nation may prove nicely for the masses, but it still leaves large groups ignored and impoverished.   The brilliance of this film comes not only in its message but in its cool, hip and unconventional delivery, something that Godard has arguably lost in the recent years.

This is a must own for lovers of French cinema or political cinema for that nature.  It is a guide to controversial filmmaking and has moments of sheer hilarity that even the most anti-French person can find funny.  Criterion has done a great job with their transfer and I am hoping for a Blu-ray upgrade soon.