Call me an nut, a crazy dreamer or a unreconstructed auteurist--with maybe one or two exceptions, I would, sight unseen, rather watch any five random minutes of this film (or any Godard, for that matter) than virtually anything opening in the next three months.

This might not be Godard's last film after all.
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/movies/2009/06/its-official.html

Fascinating stuff. I'd be extremely interested to hear your reaction to the following grades:

http://letrasdecine.blogspot.com/2010/05/cannes-2010-film-socialisme-jean-luc.html

If these critics/programmers, most of them pretty well known and respected, are to be believed, then FILM SOCIALISME isn't just the best film at the 2010 Cannes FF but one of the best ever made.

I haven't seen the picture myself, but I wonder: could this be a classic situation of "les nouvelles vetements de l'empereur JL-G"?

Ebert: Godard has his steadfast admirers. I was one for years, until his films began to seem increasingly and deliberately alienating. If the ticket-buying person in the audience is left out of the experience, is it still a movie, or has it become something else?

I admire your reviews, and will look forward to your opinion of the film.

Roger,

Truffaut is great, Bresson and Renoir are saints, but Godard is a Magician! Few films have had such an impact on me as Breathless, vivra sa vie, contempt and Pierrot le Fou. He lives in the mind like the others live in the heart. Like most common movie goers I've lost track of his recent films (the last I saw was passion), but perhaps I should give his newest film my dusty cerebral college try. He deserves it I suppose.

I often wondered why you gave contempt such a lackluster review, I find that it is the Godard film I most often revisit... In my mind it is forever linked to La Dolce Vita, which you so ardently love, I saw them around the same time and both of them hit me like a punch in the gut. The scene in the echo room from La Dolce Vita, and the scene when Bardot leaves her husband both resonate with me on a deep level.

Anyway, I am jealous of your cannes experience roger... Godard, Takeshi, Oliveira, Tavernier, Leigh, Tati (sort of) Kiarostami... Whether or not all the films hold up, that is an impressive list! Continue keeping all us unfortunates up to date!

Blake

Jean Luc Godard is the most brilliantly frustrating filmmaker, I think, in the history of the cinema. I have sat through at least seven of his films, and depending on the last one I watched, I either love him or am royally pissed off by him. I think that as he discovered Bertolt Brecht, he started to live more and more inside his head as an artist, and therefore refuse to communicate with the members of his audience.

There is a sense of playfulness in Godard's earlier work that I think was lost as he tried to grow more serious and address things like Vietnam. For some people, Contempt is a mess, but I love it because it's constantly playing with itself and not in a way that feels overbearing. The concept of Jack Palance trying to make this bad movie of The Odyssey with Fritz Lang is very humorous, and the scenes with Lang are phenomenal. In some ways, Contempt is a bridge between the more fun, free-spirited Godard of Breathless, and the pretentious, annoying Godard who would later make Alphaville.

Now I'm not one who says that you have to close all loose ends by the end of the film, but for Crissakes, I do ask that it can make some sort of sense by the end. My English teacher, who I revere and adore, had us watch 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her in high school. Most of the students in our class really hated it. I thought it had some interesting scenes, but once the two women were photographed having sex with airline bags on their heads while the words "AMERICA UBER ALLES!" were flashed on the screen to machine gun fire, I gave up. The final shot, of a model of Paris made entirely out of cans of laundry detergent, soap and brillo pads while the narrator says, "I forget the holocaust, I forget Hiroshima," should show up in a dictionary under the word pretentious. I get that Godard has a lot to say, but I'll let his defenders say it, because I don't really want to.

And it isn't that the other films don't have their moments of levity; it's that they are more self-involved, more interested in political ideas than in leaving the audience with something they can really dissect afterwards. One need only compare the dance sequence in Band of Outsiders to the scene in Weekend where in the French village, a bunch of homeless people (my memory is a little fuzzy on this) talk about socialism. And defenders of his work would say that even a film like Weekend is meant to be funny. But by the end of Weekend, I was frustrated and fed up with the whole film.

I don't feel the need to see most of the movies Godard made after Weekend (although, having watched Jerry Lewis's The Ladies Man in film class today I want to see Tout va Bien to see how Godard imitated the set) because even some of his more ardent defenders will say those films don't make sense. His is unquestionably one of the most fascinating careers in cinema and I will always love the Godard who made Breathless and Contempt and Band of Outsiders. The Godard of Alphaville and Weekend...not so much.

Waiting For Godard, indeed.

I confess, I balked at the inferred self-importance of the man when reading your review of his latest film. And it's not like I'm lacking in curiosity or mentally lazy - quite the opposite; I'll look at almost anything - "Human Centipede" aside.

I know something you don't. That seems to be the card he's playing. Look, don't look: it's up to you. But I've made my statement and there it is.

And how typically FRENCH.

The most obtuse person in the room is often confused with being the smartest.

Note: my mother was French, I know how things works. :)

If you've got something to say, share it. If part of what you have to say needs to be arrived at, then okay dokie; sometimes the journey is part of the process - I get that. But I also know that it's not always necessary to carry bricks up a hill with both hands tied behind your back in order to arrive at that place. It's not always necessary to make me work THAT hard to "get you."

Which is what Godard's film appears to be asking me to do - but without giving me a good enough reason to bother. As I've watched both those trailers at You Tube and my reaction was:

It's a collection of images which mean something to Godard. And he's speaking to us through them. But unless you know "what" or "how" he feels about this or that, all you can take away from his film is your own assumptions about it.

And unless it's a covert Rorschach test, chuckle, I assume the following:

It's the work of a man too stubborn to change and get out of his own way.

I'd rather spend time with Mike Leigh. His films aren't always easy to watch, but they make me WANT to, as opposed to not. And at the end of the day, I think that's the difference between a great movie and one failing to be.

If cinema actually IS the train, then Godard surely must be the conductor, shooing us towards the cars when it is finally time to hurry up and hop on board. (Or impulsively leaving us all behind to anxiously wait for the next one, as the case may be, while he and he alone leads the train towards the future of the movies. Or back towards its past.)

Godard's movies have always been acquired taste to me, but his movies in the 1960s are at least interesting even if I'm not sure about whether I understand them all(but I really like "Weekend"). In case of his movies after his prime... they just made me baffled and scratch my head. Sadly, this movie seems to be the same case, and the second trailer certainly looks better than the first one! Maybe I'll try that when DVD comes out, for saving my time.

Clearly stating "No Comment" and still having dozens drooling in anticipation seems a fitting farewell to a true genius of the cinema. Whether his later work is praised or not Godard's status will remain secure.

As a child, I agreed with Siskel almost all to time until he chose to go against me on the Indiana Jones 3 film. You, like me, agreed it was fun. Which can be all you need sometimes to view a film. This does not seem to be one of those films.

So what did you walk away with, enjoyment, understanding or confusion? Sounds like confusion, which tells you nothing. Artist who think too much about themselves and their concepts, fail. Or so it seems to me.

What did you walk away with? or are you just giving me an impression of his impression? With no opinion of your own to share.

You have earned much thanks equally for the movies you have saved people the bother of seeing.I abandoned God after Breathless and one or two more.

The following gleaned simply from the two trailers:
What a perfect end (if it is) to a career. It's as groundbreaking as "Breathless" was with all of the energy of the intervening years wrapped up in its pace and style. No more linear stories need apply! The (uncoordinated?) subtitles are as stylized as the gesture of Belmondo's fingers on his lips. Bravo!

DearER,
There were and still are one and many "Godardian"s in my city. Perhaps too many. More equal than others. I noticed during my festival days that they have had stopped widening their views on watching non-Godardian movies due to a preset mind. I, perhaps unfortunately, still believe one of the pre-requisite to Socialism is equality towards all. But the disciples became the masters ! Ha ! Any COMMENT?
sanjoy

Godard's latest is about regarding itself as you see it fit to be regarded?

That sounds quite interesting, if pointless. Too bad he didn't do the press conference.

You're very funny, very cute yourself. You have to see it as though someone who enjoys Godard's films is a part of some pretentious gang of college students, don't you? Lovely insults to those who enjoy seeing something that may well be perplexing, but also understand that certain art is perplexing, but nonetheless has a rhyme and reason despite the fluctuating movie critic's need for automatic understanding.

Indeed, the movie critic would be a useless profession, if it weren't for his ability to sway the masses into condemning the PRETENTIOUS filmmakers and their, god forbid, lofty films. Why, a room full of folk like you and I would surely cancel any press conference of mine as well. How useless would it be discussing cinema to any degree with the likes of you.

I recognize this may not be your taste, Mr. Ruskin, but there was a time when the critic had a duty to propel artists into new territory, which Godard has gone to despite your libel, and if we should be so lucky, he will continue to stimulate cinematic discussion in every way that your petty lifetime anecdotes, tawdry punk scripts and political ramblings do not.

And you will say you like to see films that are different, but you would sooner embrace the slush that comforts your dreams. At last, all of this is fine, it is likely that your opinion will trump that of my lowly sentiments towards cinema. You have the books and the readers that I don't. But I have cinema in slightest movements, those that take place between atoms and exploding stars, which you will never have the audacity to recognize.

Ebert: I like your spirit. I wish to hell there were gangs of college students who cared about Godard, or challenging directors in general.

This sounds so interesting. I feel like I'll end up comparing it to Lynch's Inland Empire. Can anyone recommend some good Godard films post 60's? I've seen those and love them dearly.

'For me Godard is like intellectual counterfeit money when compared to a good kung-fu film."
- Werner Herzog

I assume he was speaking of his color films and I basically agree: Kung Fu films aren't high art, but at least they're fun.

Maybe someday there will be a great re-anaylsis of Godard's later films - maybe they are ahead of their time, or the world will change and they'll seem prophetic somehow. But I seriously doubt it. They will likely remain head-scratching footnotes to his brilliant, exuberant early work.

A new Godard film and the confirmation of Scorsese's George Harrison Documentary. Life is good.

Godard is one of my absolute favorite directors, but it frustrates me to no end that, with the exception of Notre Musique, I don't think I have ever seen a post-1967 film of his that was at all worthy of his status. I suppose it was too much to hope that Film: Socialisme would have been another exception.

I'm a fan of Godard's 1960's films, and I intend to start visiting his 70's and 80's work any day now. But I've largely stayed away from his recent output. I think it was your review of In Praise of Love that did it for me. Ever since Howard Hawks, Nicholas Ray and Sam Fuller all died, Godard has been under the impression that Hollywood is dead; I can't think of a single modern-day filmmaker whose work he admires. And his obscene rants against directors like Kubrick and Spielberg just bother me to the core. When is he going to get over that? Filmmakers in their 70's and 80's are supposed to evolve in their styles of filmmaking and abandon childish things, and it just depresses me to keep seeing Godard bitterly going in circles like this.

To be sure, I haven't seen Notre Musique (2004), which, from what I've heard, is one of his most beautiful works of art in years. Is it any good, Roger? You never wrote a review for it, although I was curious to know if you've ever gotten the chance to see it since it came out. I would definitely give that one a try--assuming it's not another bloated political diatribe.

Apparently that's what Socialisme is? I don't know if it will be coming to theaters in St. Louis. Kind of hoping it will. I've never attended a Godard release in theaters before.

That's your sketch? I'm impressed!
Now, let me try seeing it in fast forward...

No matter how much people pretend to care about Godard's ideas or politics the fact is his claim to fame was his style. His films have become increasingly impenetrable in content but remains consistent in beauty -- perhaps a little less playful though. And only Godard could get away with a counting leader at this point.

Roger, I've always sensed an ambivalence in your feelings toward Godard. He's hit-or-miss with you and sometimes even hit-and-miss. Your blog post is just like that. You don't know what to make of him. You respect his audacity and how he's revolutionized cinema, but there's none of the glowing admiration you reserve for filmmakers, like Herzog, Varda or Scorsese. I don't think it's because his films "are about what you think about when you watch them" - although you probably wish he wasn't so damn oblique - but that they don't connect emotionally with your humanist heart.

I think it's the same with Antonioni and, to a certain extent, Kubrick in your reviews of "The Shining" and "Barry Lyndon".

I must agree very strongly with Ezra Scalzo's rebuttal. Certainly your decision to begin the journal by reffering to Breathless is telling of your inability to comphrend the late work of Godard, films such as Oh, Woe is Me, In Praise of Love, Hail Mary, Notre Musique, Nouvelle Vague, and First Name: Carmen, which I firmly believe are far superior to the films made during the 1960's. Again, agreeing with Erza Scalzo, there is no wonder why Godard cancelled his press conference. It would have been impossible to discuss cinema and it's current state with the likes of people so lost in the trivialities of it.

Even your review of 2001's In Praise of Love is telling, in that your review of it is far too concerned on the literal, when Godard's concern is the trancendental. What you condemn as the "anti-American" polemic throughout the film only takes up about a handful of it. And even so, what you condemn as the kind of games "school-children" play, make far more sense than many of the ideas stemming from films that you yourself have praised within the last 10 years. The film's theme itself, is that of an elegy for love, and what you see is the "anti-American polemic" is simply confirming that. That with America's disdain for history, there is also a disdain for memory, or perhaps, a loss of faith in it. The ones who can understand that, such as Godard's protoganist, Edgar, can only look back all that has been lost, saddened.

So to see you toss off this "review" in the same manner in which you did his last(as you refrained from reviewing the sublime Notre Musique) makes me unable to have any faith in this one. While you mock those who actually see the relevence of Godard's films in modern society and understand them, you continue to fail to recognize that some of the greatest art may have to be perplexing to understand, and that perhaps this is the only stimulating cinema left.

Another, more perceptive reviewer, has pointed out that a key theme of this film is the failure of communication; a failure of language. Yet you yourself are unable to recgonize that this failure of communication was also a very key theme of Breathless, fifty years earlier. Yet you go on to mention Breathless at the beginning of this journal, not even remotely connotating the two.

This seems like a case of the emperor's new clothes to me. Even you Mr. Ebert, cannot bring yourself to outrightly deride this film. Obviously Godard's name is working on the mind. The viewer assures himself- this is Godard, it MUST mean something, and i must find this meaning. He runs around in circles, chasing themes and discarding them, making connections that are or never were- it doesn't matter. The human mind is trained to spot patterns, and given even the most random of a series of images, a well trained viewer, determined to FIND meaning, will find it eventually. You seemed to have succumbed to that yourself, with many commenters following suit, spilling forth wild theories, falling over themselves to assert some sort of order to the cascade. Of course some one has no doubt suggested that all this was Godard's ultimate aim- to make the audience like think man, you know, deep stuff. Well if that is the aim then you are better off looking through the contents of a dumpster- no doubt you'd divine some profound narrative from it's contents too.

"There are shots of kittens, obscurely linked to the Egyptians, as well as parrots."

I cannot imagine how you could have written that with a straight face.
Summary: Anything can seem meaningful if you convince yourself it is.

Ps: I was laughing through this.

Both of the trailers are pretty to look at and well worth watching. Stills of the main scenes would make an engaging show in an art museum. The stories viewers would construct to try to make sense of the scenes would tell more about the viewers than Godard; but they might be Godardized a little bit even so, and perhaps in the benignest way one can (frankly, all of the not-much Godard I've seen has a sordid vibe).

I took a class on Godard in college, taught by a guy who spent the majority of the 1960s in France, I strongly assume that he knew what he was talking about. We got through a good section of Godard's feature film work. In the process, I revisited many of my favorites (Breathless, Weekend, Contempt, Alphaville), saw transitional work between Godard's early, more revered work and his more obscure later work (2 or 3 Things I Know About Her) and later Godard (Hail Mary, In Praise of Love).

During the class, it became clear to me that any attempt to understand Godard's post-1970 work in strictly narrative and cinematographic terms is futile. In my opinion, they share more with Kenneth Anger and Stan Brakhage than they do with any of the Hollywood auteurs Godard and the rest of the Cahiers Du Cinema crew worshipped at the dawn of the New Wave. They are essentially experimental works, especially Histoire(s) du Cinema, which is essentially a visual collage about 20th century cinema and history. Even for a more narratively driven film like In Praise of Love, fixating on how you relate to the characters and on how pretty the cinematography is (or any of the standards criterions we use when we judge more mainstream cinema) is besides the point. It's all about the words (and Godard's films are coated in words), the ideas, the ideologies, the politics and the juxtaposition of meanings.

Now, I'm not a Godard disciple (I can hardly say that I liked any of his work after Weekend), but I certainly think that some of the heat leveled at Godard is a bit misplaced. Especially with the term "pretentious". Yes, Godard is pretentious. All great filmmakers are pretentious. We're all pretty pretentious, especially those of us (like me) that are planning to become great filmmakers and change the landscape of cinema forever like all of our filmmaking heroes did. But somebody has to lead the way. Somebody had to push cinema beyond its accepted narrative boundaries and damn all the criticism and bile and that comes with such an outre move, so that the rest of us can follow suit in our own time. That guy is Jean-Luc Godard.

Simone de Beauvoir was involved with Jean-Paul Sartre her entire life, but she was buried wearing the ring Nelson Algren, gave her. In the same way, Godard attracts the steadfast loyalty of the intellect, but cannot penetrate the heart.

I'm not going to pretend what Godard is attempting to convey in ANY of his films made after...oh, 1976. I think it's true that, for the most part, he lends himself to a kind of esoteric method that conveys an idea or method that is clear only to himself.

But then, isn't that what makes Godard Godard? He's always operated within the parameters of his own brain. No one else exists in Godard's world BUT Godard. Some subscribe to that and others don't. I do, most of the time.

People are so terrified of anything that just might be 'pretentious', so quick to assume someone must 'think too much of himself'.

It reminds me of something Wallace Stevens said in his letters, once, to paraphrase: The critics all want this to be me appealing to a 'school', or that use of a french word a self-aggrandizement, or read this quality as me -feigning- at -something-, but without ever thinking that deep in the matter could lie an unabashed need to write poetry, with no need at all for the rest.

To watch Godard I have to adjust my expectations in the same way I do for low-budget genre pictures: savoring moments, sometimes mere seconds, of one kind of genius or another. The lighting in the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The silences in most Val Lewton pictures. The glimpse of the alien-in-disguise's true face during a thunderstorm in I Married a Monster from Outer Space. The switch to color in The Tingler. Stacy Keach's closeups in The Killer Inside Me. Karloff stripped to the waist and crucified in The Black Cat. The evil wizard dressed as a party clown in Curse of the Demon. And so on.

A friend of mine, losing patience with one of my rhapsodic descriptions of such a moment, observed, "Sure, a wonderful five minutes. But do we have to watch the whole movie to get to it?" But I think of that dance scene in Band of Outsiders, and know it's worth the wait. You got something better to do?

p.s. Here's a John Cassavetes comment I found: "I've always been able to work with anybody that doesn't want success. Jazz musicians don't want success... They have these little tin weapons--they don't shoot. They don't go anywhere. The jazz musician doesn't deal with the structured life--he just wants that night, like a kid."

Funny that Russell would come up at the end, as I actually prefer him over Godard --- at least his alienating experiments in cinema are engaging and self-effacing, instead of so preciously, yawningly Important as Godard's. What a monster of his own adulators' creation. Certainly fits the thesis of Ken's "Savage Messiah," and something you'd think would hit close to Godard's own ideology (except, apparently, when it applies to himself): never worship art!

Interesting how Russell's career is slowly clawing its way out of obscurity, whereas Godard's seems to be slowly clawing its way *towards* obscurity, thanks to these high-profile experiments that demonstrate little beyond Godard's self-regard and his acolytes' willingness to indulge that regard. It's cinema at its most dead - the presumed messiah delivering obfuscated platitudes for salivating pseudo-Marxists the world over - and I find more than a little full-circle irony in the fact that Godard, and his insufferable pronouncements on cinema, is the one responsible for such mordancy.

That said, "Lair of the White Worm" and "Whore" most certainly play better in fast-forward. Then again, a lot of Godard's stuff plays better on pause :)

My girlfriend is over at Cannes right now with a local production company, and she was three from the front of the line when it was capped for the Godard screening. She cried. Godard continues to mean a lot to young people who are learning how to watch films for the first time.

I think it was Billy Wilder who once referred to Godard as a dilettante, and I think he hit the nail on the head. I love "Bande a Parte", but other than that, I have never seen a movie of his I didn't roll my eyes at. I understand what he is trying to do by playing around with film grammar, but someone should have told him that in order for your audience to be willing to engage in reflection on the way film is constructed, it would be helpful if they were immersed in the film first.

I also think Godard once said that the best way to critize a movie is to make another movie (or something to that effect), which just makes me ask why he should be entitled to do so. Hardly any of his films are good, and his grand statements about The Cinema are mostly pompous and very silly.

He is a rebel with nothing to rebel against who was lucky enough to start his career when there was an audience that was willing to play along and hadn't yet realized that he is an emperor who has no clothes.

On a much happier (and completely off-topic) note: I just read on DeadlineHollywood you'll be releasing your memoirs next year. Can't wait!!

I don't hear too much from K. Russel these days.

Call me dull-witted or plebian or what have you, but by the sound of this film, I am glad it'll probably never find a release past 10-15 theaters in the United States. I also really didn't like "Breathless" and think the French New Wave brings up everything you don't want to see in a movie while purposely and obstinately going against everything you do want to see in a movie: namely, a real story and some good characters. The French New Wave loved to draw attention to the artifice of film, which is exactly the thing you DON'T want to happen if you want to enjoy the story. It's only in more recent years that French films have recovered enough to anything close to enjoyable to watch.

Thanks Roger. There was a time when I felt I must be a troglodyte for not "getting" Godard's films; your entry has eased my mind.

I completely agree that Godard's films succeed or fail based on what you bring to them. I thought "Contempt" was beyond tedious, but I absolutely adored "Pierrot Le Fou". Why did I love one and not the other? Why not?

My reactions to Godard's films often differ from those of critics (including you), and I wonder if it has to do with historical timing. I recently read your re-assessment of "Pierrot Le Fou", and it struck me that your mildly negative review was more of a reaction to your own early praise of the film--that you thought it was "important", and now find the whole film silly. When I watched it recently, it never seemed more than beautiful, colorful insanity. And very funny. On that basis, I thought it was one of his best. Maybe, unlike Bergman, Antonioni, or Truffaut, Godard was never really more than a kick-ass cinematic stylist (which is awesome, when it works: "Breathless", "My Life To Live", "Weekend", and of course "Pierrot")

This sounds pretty interesting, but it reminds of a debate that goes on visual art and poetry (and in all mediums I suppose) about accessibility vs. difficulty. The poet Billy Collins, often criticized as too "accessible", says this in his introduction to "Poetry 180" : "Clarity is the real risk in poetry. To be clear means opening yourself up to judgment. The willfully obscure poem is a hiding place where the poet can elude the reader and thus make appraisal impossible, irrelevant – a bourgeois intrusion upon the poem. Which is why much of the commentary on obscure poetry produces the same kind of headache as the poems themselves." The same could easily be said of film, or painting, or music. To me, poetry and visual art have lost their relevancy because of their commitments to obtuseness and difficulty. Film, on the other hand, remains relevant because it is accessible and so has the potential to reach millions and possibly even change them. This the thing too that determines historical relevancy - which is why I feel completely confident that ultimately music historians will devote 10 times the attention to the Beatles as they do to John Cage, and why film will likely completely supplant visual art (unless a change is made). Critics, though, seem to love difficulty. Perhaps it is because they are so versed in the language of the medium they specialize in that only something difficult can hold their attention, but I think it more likely that they like it because it makes them necessary. For instance, in art, it is not that artists stopped painting accessible paintings; it is that critics stopped accepting them as good or even legitimate art works at all - then they disappeared from museums and major exhibitions and with them went most of the audience. Anyway, what I like about you Roger is that you will call a spade a spade and you recognize that indecipherability is not the same thing as meaningfulness - rather, the two tend to be opposites.

I've only seen two Godard films ('Breathless' and 'Two Or Three Things I Know About Her'), and to be honest, I enjoyed the later more than the former. To me, 'Two or Three Things' showed the potential and possibilities of film- showing stillness and movement, breaking the rules, playing with time and space- that I think sometimes directors are afraid to embrace because it's certainly not commercial. After looking at that trailer, I can see that Godard still values what we see as opposed to the story we are supposed to follow. There's certainly a value in that approach.

a key theme of this film is the failure of communication; a failure of language

"I feel, that if a person can't communicate, the very least he can is to shut up."
-- Tom Lehrer

... just sayin'

You seem to be making a lot of assumptions. Well, I guess everyone makes certain assumptions about the movies, but I part company with you on a number of them:

1. That movies must convey a clear meaning. What's the clear meaning of L'Année dernière à Marienbad? Or, for that matter, Magnolia? I mean, raining frogs--what's the deal with that?

2. That Godard is deliberately attempting to alienate viewers. Of course, that depends on what you mean by alienation. Looking at his some of his recent features, such as Éloge de l'amour and Notre musique, in which he calls attention to how he's manipulating the medium (separating sound from image, non-diegetic music that abruptly rises and fades out), yes, he's alienating the viewer in the sense of breaking the illusion that the cinema is a sort of transparent window. But in terms of alienating viewers by boring or confusing them, I would argue that by deliberately obscuring his narratives, he's demanding a different kind of engagement with the material. Whether or not he's successful is a matter of opinion. (I happen to be an admirer, although I haven't seen his new one, and therefore, can't comment on it.)

3. That Godard should've quit in the '70s when mainstream journalists stopped supporting his work. I've noticed a tendency in certain reviewers to express nostalgia and awe for the Godard of À bout de souffle, Vivre sa vie, and Alphaville, while either glibly disparaging or else ignoring a huge body of work spread over four decades, the majority of which is inaccessible to North American viewers. The major stumbling block seems to be Godard's refusal to tell a story (which he did, if only nominally, in his earlier work)--and as we all know, the audience for avant-garde cinema is miniscule compared to the audience for independent narrative filmmakers like Mike Leigh and Paul Cox, let alone James Cameron and Steven Spielberg.

In the comments second, you make mention of "The ticket-buying person," as opposed to reviewers. Are you implying that no one, apart from the professionals, is sophisticated enough to appreciate anything more rarefied than a straightforward narrative feature? Or that alternatively, those professionals who do admire the film are simply pretentious snobs who don't want to look stupid? Since as Todd McCarthy has pointed out, few of this film's admirers claim to understand it on first viewing, they can't be doing a very good job of it.

As for it not being a movie any more, it seems that every year you go to Cannes and find at least one "real movie." In past years, it's been The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada and Indigènes, so I must conclude that what you mean by a real film is a superior example of Hollywood craftsmanship, preferrably in a male-oriented genre that's presently out of fashion (i.e., the western, or the World War II film).

4. That Godard skipped the press conferrence on purpose as a kind of publicity stunt. Since he's eighty years old, it's entirely reasonable to assume that he was simply too ill to attend the festival. On the other hand, I realize you might answer that your own health concerns didn't prevent you from attending, and you live a lot farther away than Switzerland. And admittedly, Godard's vague letter of explanation (which has been posted on various web sites), in which he coyly alludes to the Greek financial crisis, certainly doesn't help.

I, too, became a disciple of Godard's about seven years ago when I first watched Breathless, Contempt, and especially Week End, which I still think is the greatest attempt at showcasing anarchy on screen (the "End of Cinema" at the end is a great apocalyptic touch, and I can't be in traffic anymore without thinking tracking shots). I also loved, well, almost anything he did in the 1960's. He still challenges me when I revisit those films.

What I think happened to him is what, to a greater or lesser extent, also happened to Bob Dylan (both of whom were icons of their time and medium of art): they got in motorcycle accidents, and from then on were only sporadically as great as before. I can't say what motorcycle accidents have to do with a lapse in greatness, but it is something to consider.

Godard basically abandoned an audience that was more receptive to his works as entertainment. Trying to watch, for example JLG Self Portrait or Nouvellve vague (1990) or (gulp) King Lear for entertainment value is like going to a root canal for giggles. There's beautiful shots and scenes and poetic intonations in his post 1972 work (and First Name: Carmen is perhaps a masterpiece closest to his 60's work), but it's always frustrating. His most ardent admirers now for his current-day work (i.e. In Praise of Love) would probably love anything Godard puts out. His curmudgeon-ness shows in his films. Maybe a hug might help.

And yet, as a filmmaker and critic and thinker and innovator, he still gives lessons and entertainment today. I'm sure I'll return to see Breathless when it comes to the Film Forum in NYC in a week. But am I as enthusiastic for his next film as I am for a new Scorsese or Woody Allen or Sidney Lumet? Hell no.

So, mr. Ebert could you watch Iñarritu's film?... How was it?, is Iñarritu alone as good as when he was with Arriaga?

M. Godard: film critic, director, writer, editor, actor, producer, do I really need to list all his films?
Mr. Ebert: film critic, writer Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Up! (1978), Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens.
Me: not a film critic, not a writer.

Given my back catalog of work (or lack thereof), nobody should be expected to sit here and read me review Mr. Ebert's work or film criticism so I find it hard to sit here and read Mr. Ebert review M. Godard's work. Obviously Mr. Ebert has every right to review M. Godard's work. I, of course, do not have much of a right to criticize Mr. Ebert's work or his view of Godard's, but I have always enjoyed M. Godard's films and videos even when they became more "tedious" and I did not want to pass up the opportunity to say so. Although I will not try to convince anybody of their worth, significance or brilliance, I am sure there are much more convincing arguments written on Godard's behalf than I could ever muster.
The second thing I'd like to mention, though, is that recently I have also started to greatly enjoy reading Mr. Ebert's writing, blogging and tweets. It may have taken me longer than I would have liked it to, but I am glad I have found your sensibility, Mr. Ebert. Thank you for your tireless efforts in standing up for what you believe in and being able to do it with such passion, conviction, and most importantly, logic.

Thank you to anybody who took the time to read this. I am sorry if it is a minute of your life you would like back. :)

Ebert: I get back to M. Godard again in the next entry. I feel let down by him. I wish Truffaut could also have lived to be 80. Oh, how I do.

I've long felt that Godard's entire aesthetic can be summed up as: The intellectual justification of bad filmmaking.

"If the ticket-buying person in the audience is left out of the experience, is it still a movie, or has it become something else?"

This is an intriguing question, particularly given the propensity of artists claiming that they don't care about their audiences. Michael Haneke has said that if audiences enjoy his films, he is doing something wrong (though he may have just been talking about Funny Games). Woody Allen has said more or less the same thing.

Obviously, it is not just directors either. Authors, Kafka for instance, often express the wish that the public never read their works. But, why? Why engage in creating for the entertainment medium without a desire to entertain (or often with desire to specifically alienate or upset)?

Your question of what entertainment becomes when it ceases to be entertaining is important question for the art world. I would argue that any artist who can free himself from the burden of worrying about audience reaction will be more likely to produce a work of great significance. If artists produced only what they knew audiences would like, innovation would never occur. Capote's "In Cold Blood," Monet's "Water Lillies," Beckett's "Waiting for Godot"; these were all works that audiences didn't know they wanted, until the artists took a chance and ignored those audiences.

It sounds curiously like something Charlie Kaufman would've written the screenplay for. I don't know if this comparison's nonsensical, but parts of your review reminded me of those bits in Grindhouse where the words "Missing reel" suddenly came in between two scenes.
I've never watched a Godard before, I wonder which one I should start with.

If a director makes a movie and no one understands it...well, if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it...?

What's the point of art that fails to communicate anything to people? I know, sure, it doesn't have to have a point...but then, why do it? Why expect anyone to view it?

@ Neil Bahadur wrote:

"...While you mock those who actually see the relevance of Godard's films in modern society and understand them, you continue to fail to recognize that some of the greatest art may have to be perplexing to understand, and that perhaps this is the only stimulating cinema left.

Another, more perceptive reviewer, has pointed out that a key theme of this film is the failure of communication; a failure of language. Yet you yourself are unable to recognize that this failure of communication was also a very key theme of Breathless, fifty years earlier..."

This wasn't directed at me, but it struck such a note of pretentiousness that I can't resist tossing in my two bits. :)

Ahem...

Last Year at Marienbad (1961)

THE quintessential Art House movie, ever. One which has inspired countless, endless coffee-house debates as to its ultimate meaning and without one ever truly being found; for like trying to nail jello to a tree, director Alain Resnais film isn't cooperating.

But not because it wants to be difficult; it's not trying to annoy you into liking it, despite itself.

From Roger's review after revisiting it on DVD:

"Yes, it's easy to smile at Alain Resnais' 1961 film, which inspired so much satire and yet made such a lasting impression. Incredible to think that students actually did stand in the rain to be baffled by it, and then to argue for hours about its meaning--even though the director claimed it had none. I hadn't seen "Marienbad" in years, and when I saw the new digitized video disc edition in a video store, I reached out automatically: I wanted to see it again, to see if it was silly or profound, and perhaps even to recapture an earlier self--a 19-year-old who hoped Truth could be found in Art.

Viewing the film again, I expected to have a cerebral experience, to see a film more fun to talk about than to watch. What I was not prepared for was the voluptuous quality of "Marienbad," its command of tone and mood, its hypnotic way of drawing us into its puzzle, its austere visual beauty. Yes, it involves a story that remains a mystery, even to the characters themselves. But one would not want to know the answer to this mystery. Storybooks with happy endings are for children. Adults know that stories keep on unfolding, repeating, turning back on themselves, on and on until that end that no story can evade."

Go here for his full review:

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19990530/REVIEWS08/905300301/1023

Meanwhile and my reason for referencing it:

Does that sound like someone who doesn't understand that sometimes great Art can also be perplexing, and for being about the journey not the destination?

Personally, I think it's possible for something to be many things at once, and that includes unwittingly pretentious and elitist. At least that's why I haven't bothered with Godard's work in years - and I liked "Breathless"; hell, I've got a copy of it.

I think Godard's recent films are admired and worn like a badge of honor by devotees who take a wee-bit too much pride in their loyalty and why they might be guilty of the blindness they accuse Roger of. :)

The tone of some of these comments just proves that fanboys are fanboys, whether the objects of their affection are comic books or Godard. The only differences are the jargon and, occasionally, the hygiene.

Mr. Bahadur, Roger Ebert hardly needs me defending him, but do you realize that he is blogging, and that this forum is a journal that he uses to report from Cannes, rather than to publish full-fledged reviews?

Actually, you should realize that, because you attacked his review of in Praise of Love, which he initially liked. He wrote the following in that review:

I do not "review" films seen at festivals, but "report" on them--because in the hothouse atmosphere of seeing three to five films a day, most of them important, one cannot always step back and catch a breath.

Thus, for you to attack this blog post as if it were his full, detailed review created after proper reflection is a straw-man.

Meanwhile, the logic of your vitriol here is beyond suspect:

"Certainly your decision to begin the journal by reffering to Breathless is telling of your inability to comphrend [sic] the late work of Godard"

Really? Couldn't it be that Godard's films of the last two decades have been less universally admired? And obviously, not liking is not equivalent to not comprehending.

"films such as Oh, Woe is Me, In Praise of Love, Hail Mary, Notre Musique, Nouvelle Vague, and First Name: Carmen, which I firmly believe are far superior to the films made during the 1960's

You may "firmly believe" whatever you like, but if a director could be remembered for just one film in his career, Breathless would be Godard's Vertigo or Citizen Kane, and Nouvelle Vague would be his Family Plot or Mr. Arkadin. Actually, that's an insult to Welles.

"you continue to fail to recognize that some of the greatest art may have to be perplexing to understand, and that perhaps this is the only stimulating cinema left."

Given some of the films Mr. Ebert has praised on the strength of their imagery alone, this comment reflects a vast ignorance of his writings, a prejudice unsullied by any speck of knowledge.

Even more asinine is the claim that only art that is "perplexing to understand" -- that is what we call a redundancy, by the way -- is "perhaps the only stimulating cinema left." It's hard to combine that level of pretension with such a faux-elegiac sigh, so kudos on that.

Perplexing films can of course be great art. The perplexity that the viewer experiences can arise from either complexity of ideas or obscurity of meaning and intent. However, either way the right to perplex the viewer must be earned. If the perplexity arises from the complexity of the ideas, then the question is if the ideas the film presents justify that level of complexity, because being perplexing when clarity is an option is either lazy or self-indulgent. If the issue is obscurity, the issue is if excellence in some other attribute of film -- usually the quality of the imagery -- renders the articulation of a coherent idea irrelevant. I'm not sure what the hell the last ten minutes of 2001 mean, but that's never bothered me. And when I could only see Metropolis in a butchered version that left some aspects of the plot virtually incomprehensible, that didn't stop me from recognizing that I was watching great art.

"What you condemn as the 'anti-American' polemic"

I would suspect that the issue is not the anti-Americanism -- I'm fairly close to Ebert on the political spectrum, and I certainly can see plenty in my country's politics and culture to criticize -- but the polemic. Polemics generally distort reality for rhetorical effect, and even that would be fine if great art were the result. It seldom is (Z is one exception) since great art is generally more nuanced than polemic allows. Meanwhile, viewers have the right to be less than enthralled at the prospect of more political judgments of someone who spent several years enamored of Mao -- a decade after the Great Leap Forward and roughly contemporary with the Cultural Revolution, two of the great crimes of the 20th century.

The irony is that Ebert predicted your response when he referred to Godard's admirers as "disciples."

In any case, thank you for confirming my suspicion that I should never trust a critic who refers to movies as "cinema," as Dan Ackroyd used to satirize with his character Leonard Pinth-Garnell's "Bad Cinema.

Ebert: I read today that Godard hoped the astronauts on Apollo 13 would die. I think something came loose. Maybe a screw.

Why can't films just be films? Why do viewers and critics (and even directors, in some cases, if they're so bold as to admit to it) have to inflate films with abstract concepts and allusions? Why must vainglorious pseudo-intellectuals use these films as pedestals upon which to stand and deliver bombastic pontifications? This is true of all art, not just film, and I'm not saying that films which contain such seemingly incomprehensible abstractions and obscurities are necessarily pretentious in and of themselves nor are they beyond or beneath critique, but I simply grow weary of the condemnations and contemptuous language that get flung back and forth by both parties: those who challenge supposedly pretentious films and those who can "understand" the hidden meanings of certain films and who denounce the vulgar masses. Let film be film and leave it at that.

This all brought to mind Jean-Pierre Melville's classic turn in "Breathless." Playing a vain writer being interviewed by a cute Jean Seberg:

SEBERG: What is your ambition in Life?

MELVILLE: To become immortal...and then die.

Echoing Andrew Sarris, it is so true that "immortality is a hard thing to calculate."

My question is could it be possible Godard is no longer just addressing us mere mortals, but his voice is now other directed. Perhaps more inner directed, more to his own private thoughts of a life in film and his place in its grand scheme. Maybe he is primarily reaching out to his audience transcendentally. More probably, might Godard now be reflecting, possibly not even consciously, on his chosen place at the Valhalla Theatre of cinematic immortality-- where it seems sure he would occupy an isle seat(and hopefully sitting not far from an equally deserving Melville).

Who knows? My ponderings are admittedly 'incalculable.' Probably meritless. Idle conjecture for sure. Godard however has definitely grown more and more imponderable for me over time. Sounds like he may have now reached the impenetrable stage. And hell I still remember having a good time at "Hail Mary." Stoned of course.

I well remember the evening I went to see Messr. Godard's "Sauve qui peut," at the old New Loft Cinema in Tucson, with some very dear friends of mine, who all walked out. I stayed, dazed and amazed, and never looked at my friends in the same way again. Perhaps he made the film for just that reason?

I think, when asked to explain his films in an interview, he said "certain parts of my movies sing" and from the very little of his career that I've seen, that's what I enjoyed the most: which I can't explain because it's been very different each time; all I know is it's beautiful, and would also have to agree with Mike Figgis when he said, that "what is unique about him as a director is that he has a better understanding of music better than any other director than any director that I can think of. Not only his knowledge of music, but also the fact that he understands in a way, to me, in a very poignant way the psychology of music. So he'll use music to--again--distance, but to actually, in a way, by distancing and having that critical artistic eye, you end up actually filling up with more emotion than a director who would throw him or herself into it in a very emotional and involved way: sometimes there's very well-meaning films made in those periods, or other periods; 20 or 30 or 40 years later, when we look at them, in way, they haven't survived for that reason because they haven't enough detachment. Now, some people might see that a form of cynicism; I don't. I see it as a correct artistic temperature. And I think that that's why, for me, the film seems very, very modern in the same [way]--I think I discussed this--that I find Eric Dolphy's "Out to Lunch" also has that same quality and it allows it, you know: like all great music...the late Beethoven quartets. They have the same cool detachment, and yet they have such intensity of emotion. And I think Godard has always managed to key into those musical elements...and the way he'll use a piece of music and at the same time understand that there's a degree of bullshit about visual manipulation and that we shouldn't really take that too seriously. It is, after all, only a sort of poetic image or metaphor for something else...and that if you can maintain that coolness, the strength of your ideas may endure a lot longer. And I've noticed that about theater writing; I've noticed that about the novel: ALL aspects of art: painting. Al the examples have retained a kind of coolness and a controlled distance, sometimes losing their cool, but usually maintaining it. Those are the ones that seem to have the ability to survive outside of their own period."

Me again. Would like some more from this conversation? This quote by Mike Figgis might help explain what Godard meant about certain parts of his films singing, which is the following:

"The reason why I return to Godard and why I still see him as a modern filmmaker...as an avant garde film more so than most of the younger filmmakers who are supposedly doing that job right now is because he understands the theatrical. In other words, cinema comes out of a tradition...It hasn't really departed from theater in that respect. And in theater, we have this contract called the suspension of disbelief, which allows us to go into a dark space and watch actors, often wearing ridiculous costumes and using ridiculous voices to project to the people in the back and using outlandish gestures: which are called, you know, the language of theater. We compare that with, say, the school of naturalism or let's say method acting that has emerged in American cinema: for example: Brando, Dean and so on and then the belief that cinema should be real, backed up by a kind of technical giant, which is really the backbone of the film industry, where cameras and equipment in general all go hand and in hand towards a sort of super-realism; hyper-realism. And what I love about Godard always is that he says, No, no. We're still working within a theatrical tradition where the farcical is acceptable because the idea is more important than the false sense of illusion. So, with him, I'm always able to deal with ideas and then despite--or actually because his ideas are so interesting--I may be bored...very, very, deeply bored by something he does for a period of time: I have no problem with that, and I don't think that it's an issue of qualitative judgement about his film. It's just part of the process because I know that it will be followed by something that is ABSOLUTELY scintillating...and I'm suddenly riveted and my attention is ENTIRELY captivated again. So, it allows me to come in and out of his films in a way without this obsessive need for me to be entertained or this obsessive need for me to be stimulated ALL THE TIME because I find that is the cinema of diminishing returns; by the time I get to the end of the film I feel exhausted and I feel I've been totally cheated by the attempt at realism."

Me again. Let's keep on going. Mike Figgis again(which is from the DVD "Weekend", now over 40 years old):

"His concern with the audience, compared with, say, Michael Moore or pretty much any other contemporary filmmaker, is minimal. I think he feels his responsibilities and his loyalty is to his own pursuance of ideas, as part of the great intellectual tradition and that if you assume a higher common denominator, rather than a lower common denominator--and also if you don't need to desperately be loved by the entire world--that you can sustain yourself intellectually in a smaller group, of both your peers and your audience, then the possibility for a higher level of dialogue and exchange of ideas is going to be far healthier. So I feel that these sections of the film where political ideas are put forward, they're put forward in a way that is farcical. At the same time what is being said, one assumes what is being said came from the heart of the filmmaker, but at the same time, like all great artists, he's aware of the fact at that he must retain some distance from the argument, otherwise I think, quite rightly, you will be viewed as a propagandist: and someone who, in those kind of films, is preaching to a converted audience anyway. I think in some ways he defies description with those devices and again, perhaps, that's one of the things I'm really drawn to is the fact that I find him refreshingly indefinable."

I think he's a truly great filmmaker and artist; I think first and foremost, he's an artist and I also think he's a philosopher and to me, he's one of the great artists of the 20th century and continues into the 21st, because he's still functioning intellectually in a strong way. That should be interesting to us, because in the past we would have looked to our elder intellectual or artists as having great significance in our community. We're, in a sense, in a cult of the young right now to such a degree that that seems to have gone by the by.

"I would compare this [his use of text] to, say, in a genre of music and songwriting, I've found it very clearly defined that there are people who say about Bob Dylan's songs, "Wow, the lyrics are amazing!" and I'll go "Oh, can't say I've ever really thought about the lyrics. It's such a lovely song and the lyrics seem appropriate for that song." So, you're either listening to the music as a total or you're listening to the words And one of the problems with someone like Godard is he uses text--and I think deliberately so--(he uses provocative statements which don't seem to make sense, or whatever); I view it differently in that I think in the flow of the film, I have a feeling that he thinks it would be a good idea to cut to black with some red letters flashing. "What could the red letters be? Oh, I they could be this..." I think he thinks of something very, very quickly, and it seems to be something that organically that would fit in with the flow of the film: and I always agree with it. I don't particularly remember them, but I never have a problem with why that's existing there at that point. Often it's accompanied by a sound, a musical sound, which also seems to make sense. To me, he is a complete filmmaker in that he's thinking with all of his senses and never ever biasing towards the visual, which, to be honest, most filmmakers do: they think they're in a visual medium; they're not. He's one of the view artists in cinema who has understood the power of text: because text engages a different part of the brain from sound; so, if someone says something and you're listening to it, intellectually you're engaging in a certain way. If you then repeat that as pure text with a piece of music underneath it a different part of the brain will engage in a different way and you'll end up with a different result; so, he was pushing those ideas. And so, often, I think it's a mistake to sort of literally ask the question, "What does that mean?" It's more a question of "Does that feel correct to you that he went into that mode at that point: of using text?" and I always say, "Yes, that's a point when..." To put it another way, I have used text because I've been influenced by him; he's forced me to think about all those elements: how I use sound, how I use text, how I use voice, and so on, how the camera moves, as being all part of a bigger picture of how you make a film: not as separate elements at all. In other words, he ends up, I think, with a compound. Other people end up with a mixture, and it's a very different thing.

I don't look at a Godard film in that way of having a message of good or bad or positive or negative or anything like that. I would say, overall, most of the time, with most of his films, I come out with a positive feeling, which I would translate in a different way: I come out wanting to make films and I don't articulate in my mind exactly why or what or what his films mean. I know that I come out with an energy. I might go into his films with no energy; I come out WITH energy, including the last film of his that I saw, Eloge d'lamour. I found it profoundly moving and it reaffirmed all my ideas about filmmaking and in a way, with great artists, that I don't feel the need to find a way to articulate why I feel that; I just know that I do.

"...As a snapshot of a sort of French bourgouise moment in time, I think it's emotionally pretty accurate--not just French--of our culture at that time, but as it is specifically French in it's flavor, you know, "Le Weekend" and the bourgois couple. Even in their sex life, they're bored with each other: even though he manages to make an erotic scene out of it. It's an erotic scene almost because it's so boring, or the content is erotic, but they're boring; so I find it far more accurate than a kind of realistic film from that period would have been. In other words, like a good painting that's almost a cartoon, there is somehow more truth to it, because, really, what's interesting is the artist's interpretation, rather than the attempt to impersonate.

The reason why he has few obvious imitators is because it would require a considerable talent to imitate him and I don't see that much talent on that level; I still think of him, amongst other filmmakers, as a sort of a giant. And I think, technically, he's awesome. People don't understand his technique: because he throws away ideas and doesn't capitalize [referring to what he said earlier in the interview; the first about him discussing an idea in his film and then disposing of it mid-film; the second about him not capitalizing on his success and repeating it like most filmmakers], and culturally, critics and so forth, are much happier when they are able to start to spot from a director, the fourth or fifth movie, and start to say, "Yeah, I recognize that style": then they can be cruel, from time to time. What they very much like is to have the power to touch the should of...the kind word here and there: and we become dependent on their kindness. If you have a filmmaker like Godard, who, really, doesn't seem to give a damn what they think...and every film he makes he can say "well If I'm going to change my style...if I'm going to start shooting on video, I'll do that"...If you create an unquantifiable style for yourself, then you're going to alienate yourself, and also, how can you impersonate that? To impersonate that, you're going to have to be changing your style regularly."

He goes on to say filmmakers have stolen little "bits" from his movies, because they are "stylistically iconic or something like that" and almost just reproducing them in their films. Also, "the way he worked with actors, the way he chose actors, the way he uses the camera...the way he encourages the cameraman to take liberties has so been a part of the mainstream approach. Let's face it, there would be a movement called Dogme if there wasn't a movement called the Nouvelle Vague [the French New Wave] and I think we would correctly put Godard as one of the leading lights of that movement; so, his influence is radical. Inconceivable to imagine what cinema would look like without the influence of that period of film making.

I would say to someone watching, say, Weekend, for the first time that you will be confused from time to time. I'm still confused by elements of the film, but it doesn't bother me; in fact, I quite like being confused by a film: I prefer to be confused in an interesting way than to be completely in possession of all of the facts of the film--and be bored. And with most films, usually about ten minutes in, I could probably tell you the ending and I could spot scenes half an hour before they came up, because most films are being made in such a predictable way now that it's almost like a dream that just keeps repeating. I never have that feeling with Godard."

That wasn't the whole interview, but that was about 85 percent of it.

Re: Ms. Haws

"I think Godard's recent films are admired and worn like a badge of honor by devotees who take a wee-bit too much pride in their loyalty and why they might be guilty of the blindness they accuse Roger of. :)"

And what would be the significance in wearing a badge of honor? I, and others as well, am simply someone who finds the late work of Godard worth watching. I feel like these films are youthful with constant reinvention, and I find them to be consistantly moving.

And as for your accusations of "pretentiousness", what is it that I must have pretense about? Am I not genuine for simply stating the way I feel?

And for Mr. Ebert:

I agree with Mr. Richard Nanian that I attacked this blog post as it was a full review, and I am sorry for that. I am aware that my comments may have been quite out of line and Mr. Nanian is correct in the assumption that the post was ignorant of your writings, as I have been unacquainted with them for a fair period of time. Granted, I do disagree with Mr. Nanian's belief in my lack of "any speck of knowledge," but to each man his own. I feel like I have the right to speak on behalf of my own feelings, and I am glad that this blog is still open to allow all sides to express themselves in whichever way they please.

And Mr. Nanian, both Family Plot and Mr. Arkadin are among their creators finest films. So is Nouvelle Vague.

And again, Mr. Nanian, I truly believe Godard's late works to be among the last intellectually stimulating cinema(yes, CINEMA) left. Does that make me and my feeling pretentious? Because I believe so? Does that make me a disciple of Godard, because I am moved by his films? If that is so, then I am more than proud of that.

JMW: "Call me dull-witted or plebian or what have you, but by the sound of this film, I am glad it'll probably never find a release past 10-15 theaters in the United States. I also really didn't like "Breathless" and think the French New Wave brings up everything you don't want to see in a movie while purposely and obstinately going against everything you do want to see in a movie: namely, a real story and some good characters. The French New Wave loved to draw attention to the artifice of film, which is exactly the thing you DON'T want to happen if you want to enjoy the story. It's only in more recent years that French films have recovered enough to anything close to enjoyable to watch."

You're not dull-witted, you just seem to enjoy misusing second-person pronouns as if asserting that your preference for conventional narrative filmmaking over any other mode of filmmaking is everyone else's preference. I'll never understand your happiness that this probably won't get beyond 10-15 theaters in the country. If it did spread to several theaters you wouldn't be anymore obligated to watch it and I assure you that even if I expected to hate Godard's new film as much as you do I would still hope that it reached as many cinemas as it could; to hope otherwise seems to be actively advocating the decline of film culture.

I get limitless joy out of the New Wave and to act like it sets out exclusively to underline the artifice of cinema, when most of its patrons were immense cinephiles who loved and devoured the best of narrative Hollywood cinema, is misleading; I don't find it remotely difficult to shift between a dense, self-referential Godard film and the most melodramatic narrative film. I believe that if Godard ever felt he was disabling his viewers' capacities to enjoy narrative film, he would probably have given up filmmaking long ago. I also think it's flat-out wrong in every sense to make the simplification that the New Wave brought on an onslaught of cold, esoteric filmmakers (even if you want to argue that Godard wasn't a colorful, energetic and entertaining filmmaker, he's far from the only filmmaker to define the New Wave; many of his companions were still making excellent traditional, narrative films) that has only recently started to diffuse.

Ebert: I read today that Godard hoped the astronauts on Apollo 13 would die. I think something came loose. Maybe a screw.

Maybe the screw was never there. Anyway, I've never seen one of the guy's films, but that comment of his is enough to make me not care that I haven't.

I agree with Remy. Godard is important to film history, but much like, say, "Birth of a Nation," his work is better viewed as a historical artifact than a real movie.

I've seen two of his movies, "Bande a Part" and "Breathless." I like to consider myself a film lover, but these movies were just so boring and self-important. Like the "minute of silence" from "Bande a Part" where the soundtrack goes dead. What was the point? Beyond reminding the audience that they were watching a movie, it was just there because it could be.

Give me Truffaut any day. Both Truffaut and Godard loved movies, but Truffaut loved them enough to make his worth watching.

A thought perhaps influenced by my low-grade fever: How would "Armageddon" have been improved if it had been directed by Godard?

Mark Kermode calls it the worst film of the festival: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x3h310ZT1M

Ebert: I read today that Godard hoped the astronauts on Apollo 13 would die. I think something came loose. Maybe a screw.

I suppose the source of that statement was reliable or you wouldn't have repeated it. However, it is such a damning indictment of his character and humanity that one hopes someone will ask Godard point blank if he did in fact wish for those men to die.

Confusion.
Curiosity. C'est quoi, ces images?
Growing irritation.
(Inaudible)
Checks watch.
Picture of Hitler, fried egg.
(Indistinct)
Casablanca, on at 8.
Complete disinterest.
Sneaks out of theatre.
Sayonara.

@ Neil Bahadur wrote:

"And as for your accusations of "pretentiousness", what is it that I must have pretense about? Am I not genuine for simply stating the way I feel?"

I was reacting to your opinion, not doubting it was how you genuinely felt.

You'd written this to Roger:

"...you continue to fail to recognize that some of the greatest art may have to be perplexing to understand, and that perhaps this is the only stimulating cinema left."

Pretentiousness:

Characterized by an assumption of dignity or importance. Making an exaggerated outward show; ostentatious. Claiming or demanding a position of distinction or merit, especially when unjustified. - dictionary.com

What's stimulating about being unable to understand something?

True; there's the challenge of trying to wrap your head around it. I'll grant you that. But one could then apply it to anything obtuse, convoluted or all-over-the-place and for being able to argue; great Art is sometimes really difficult.

At which point, you added such works are perhaps the only "stimulating cinema" left.

You know, whenever Sherlock Holmes was feeling restless for want of a juicy mental puzzle, he resorted to the seven percent solution. :)

Meaning?

I read your post and thought to myself; sounds like this guy enjoys catching an esoteric mental buzz. And okay dokie, to each his pleasure. But I find the search for stimulation isn't always the best measuring stick by which to gauge the value of a thing.

As conversely, some people like watching stuff blow-up, and for reacting to the sight of it literally happening on screen, eh?

I have waited to see what people think of this movie. Interesting.

Remember in Contempt, when the beautiful score was played over and over until you wished it far away from the optical track? And it was such a heart-rending piece, I hated to hate it! That was when I realized that one of Godard's prime directives must be to alienate people in unexpected ways. E.g., an elegant melody to annoy, or the humorous, brief character studies of a traffic jam that turns into a graphic car collision (I think that was Week End).

There was a straight-to-DVD movie a few years ago called Advent Children, done by the same team as Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. Two aspects of it, the impossibility of understanding it and how excellent it looked visually have led me to think of it as the world's longest screensaver. If Godard's latest film makes no sense, but is made of random, interesting shots, is it best viewed when your computer has been inactive for more than ten minutes? On the other hand, a collection of various images that add up to a pleasing whole is the description of a Tralfamadorian novel. So it goes, Roger?

Robert
I'm curious about the Godard opinion regarding Apollo 13. It was something he apparently said in an interview with the "Journal Sud Ouest" back in 1970. [So says a footnote in Colin MacCabe's book]. I have not read the interview nor do I know the context with which he said it and so it would be tough to know if he said if off the cuff, was joking or said something that was transcribed incorrectly. I think I would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on this. But Godard definitely had an anti-imperialist attitude in that time period [during he Vietnam war] and that usually meant anti-Americanism.

Kermode, however, is probably one of the worst contemporary film critics currently working. He does have a point in that Film Socialisme may not find distrubution, but Kermode's actual reasons for dismissing both Film Socialisme and Certfied Copy are absoutely atrocious, and even says that he sat through the film simply so he could call it the worst film of the festival, which currently has yet to finish.

He also claims that Juliette Binoche will win the Best Actress award because she is the festival poster child! The future of film criticism is weak...

As I've said before, I have never seen one of Godard's films, but from what Roger says about the man and looking at that photo of him, I have the hunch that this man never did a single thing in his life that wasn't well-calculated. The photo, for instance; I wonder how long he spent in front of the mirror making every hair so perfectly out of place. I also wonder if his films aren't meant as the film equivalent of a poem. One reading is not enough. Many readings are necessary. Or is that already understood with this type of film?

Ah yes, Ms. Haws. To each his/her own.

Are there very many boundaries left in Cinema to be pushed anymore by Mr. Godard?

That being said, I think its so much harder to make a a film like "Raiders of the Lost Ark" or "Star Wars" than it is to make a very intelligent, high art film. I'm an admirer of filmmakers like Godard or Stanley Kubrick but when you watch one of their movies, you always think "Godard" or "Kubrick". With a film of pure fun and fantasy like "Raiders", even with a name like Spielberg behind it, you always get the feeling it was more of a group effort and that the film has a pulse to it. In "Raiders", you remember Indiana Jones (not so much Harrison Ford) and Toht and Belloq. You also remember the score, the cinematography, and just how well it is acted. Especially with a movie like "Weekend", you simply remember the statement Godard was putting forth. And of course, the 10 minute car wreck.

I don't think people should look at cinema for fundamental, underlying, overarching purpose, rather couch it in the manner of how cinema compels us to think, what territories and regions it propels us, and what new cartographies does it forge. Godard summed up his cinematic formula as: 'not a just image, just an image' becomes symmetrical with 'not a sound idea, just an idea'. Therefore this manifests that sound ideas or images conform and subordinate themselves to dominant meanings or established slogans, they are always ideas which verify something, even if that something is in the future, even if that future is revolutionary. Godard's films are analgalous to a stammering of ideas, something that can only be expressed in the form of question, questions of the sort which tend to be difficult to answer. Or which show something utterly intelligible and unequivocal.

I look forward to seeing this latest piece by Godard. He is an artist who creates challenging and contemporary works on film. I can't say I like everything he's done, but he has something to say and its really cool that he gets the stage. Any other director who made the kinds of films that Godard has made in the last 30 years would never have the opportunity to show at Cannes, or get the attention Godard gets. Hopefully, though, it causes more viewers to at least have the experience of dealing with the more difficult artists that film has to offer. I love Godard's work, but I dont always like it. I would venture to say I haven't seen many of his films twice because some I just find absolutely irritating. I don't care if he doesn't like some other directors, of if he's cranky, or what not. And I especially like that he rubs people the wrong way who think a movie should have some sort of limitation in the manner in which it expresses itself. While I like a 'good' movie, I hate the cult of the good. I think Godard at his best is when he's making a virtuosic shamble where we can connect to some of the meanings but not all, and we shouldn't be able to connect with his inner world necessarily. That an artist at Godard's age can still have the opportunity to present work that challenges the ever more commonplace and lowest-common-denominator world of cinema is great and absolutely necessary. After Cannes, the only place movies like this will get to be seen is dusty classrooms and Film Forums. Which is good, but entirely too bad. His work will continue to inspire and challenge. The late work of Godard holds up much better, in my opinion, than the more narrative and well known work of the mid-60s. I watch that stuff now, and I just get bored. Breathless still has a magical space in my brain, but I think that has more to do with my personal history with viewing the film than the film itself. But isn't that what it's always about? I have never enjoyed a movie experience more than watching Raiders of the Lost Ark when I was thirteen. Yet, I have never felt more enlightened and freed as an artist and a viewer than when I watched a grainy video of Sympathy for the Devil and rather than saying, what the f*** is this crap... I decided to engage and figure out what was going on. Which I didn't, but it was and continues to be a better experience for me, personally, than watching A Women is a Woman. It has something to do with the more experimental work being more challenging, and that is a matter of taste. Notre Musique is better than either of those. Godard, I think, has improved over the years, he is truly a master of surrealist technique in contemporary film. It's not fun, but its worthwhile. I mean, who looks at a Motherwell and bitches because it's not Diego Rivera? You, your readers, me? Yes. And probably Godard, thats who! If only I could embed meaningless text in my response postings now....

I haven't seen enough Godard to judge him as a filmmaker, although I've got pretty much everything of his loaded up in my Netflix queue. I look forward to seeing this one, too.

On another note, the title of your blog entry is clever, and brought a smile to my face. I was privileged to see "Godot" during its brief run last year in New York, with Nathan Lane and Bill Irwin in the two lead roles, an unforgettable John Goodwin as Pozzo, and John Glover as Lucky. After the play was over I spent an hour or so walking around Manhattan by myself, thinking about life and humanity, and then went and purchased a Beckett anthology.

Ebert: Memory for a lifetime: I saw "Godot" at the Rpyal Court Theater in London in January 1965, with Bert Lahr.

One Sunday in the early '80s from the pulpit of a University Church I recommended folks see a new Godard film to be shown the next Saturday night. I mentioned I had not seen the movie yet, but knew from his earlier work (Breathless, Weekend) that it would be insightful...
I can't recall the name of the film, but it was filled with brutality and nastiness. I saw several congregants walk out in disgust.
The next morning I preached on the prophet Jeremiah who wept over the inhumanity of his time & suggested Godard, like the painter Francis Bacon, sometimes showed ugliness in order to disgust the viewer. (It is so easy never to see what we wish not to see.)
I did not get fired, but learned not to review unseen films.

Ebert: Yep, Steve, you can get in a mess o' trouble that way.

The relationship with my friend that became my wife was kindled in some way at a New Year's Eve screening of Godard's "Sauve qui peut". It, too, was a puzzler of a film. But after that film we spent long hours pondering the film in the foggy night of the West Coast. So I am eternally indebeted to Godard for inspiring those conversations that rooted our love for each other.

No Comment, except to say that who else but the greatest living film director, who has changed our way of looking at films, even those above that don't realise it, could create such passion? What people don't seem to realise that Godard's films - and I'm old enough to have seen them chronologically as they came out - in fact I've been living with Godard for longer than Anne Marie Meiville - are a logical progression from Breathless. They only make real sense if you are aware of his self-reflexive oeuvre and of the history of cinema and Histoire(S) du Cinema. Ironically, I feel (not think) that Roger et al have approached the Film Socialisme too intellectually, asking for meaning. It is not ABOUT anything, but it is the thing itself. I immodestly offer a piece I wrote in The Grauniad a year ago.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2008/may/12/godardtheembodimentofthes

Ebert: I just tweeted this. Godard no longer connects with me, but of course that could be my problem.

Expecting a measured or reasonable response to new Godard is a lost cause. There are all too many people for whom he might as well have stopped making movies sometime before 1967 maybe right after Breathless, even. McCarthy's "review" in which he mentions, oh yeah, absolutely nothing about the film itself is especially heinous, and might be summed up as "Most people don't go to see Godard or Tarr movies..." He leaves out the obvious kicker "...so they must not be any good," but it's certainly implied. The people who appreciate late Godard are "elites" because they're in the minority, and of course everybody knows that the majority is always right. I'd love to see some detractors engaging with the later Godard films in a more intelligent way, but I have yet to come across too much of that. (Of course, like anything in this world, it's not for everybody, and honest acknowledgment of that is appreciated as well, just not McCarthy's smug superiority and the underlying sense of glee that Godard's films don't have a big audience anymore. McCarthy seems positively delighted that audiences aren't flocking to art films in big numbers.)

For me, needless to say, I'm looking forward to Film Socialism when it plays for a week at some NYC theater and, pretty much, nowhere else. It may not be a popular stance, but late Godard is, for me, stimulating, provoking, intelligent, and visually stunning, all the things that McCarthy flatly insists this new film is not.

Why do people seem to think that you can't enjoy or appreciate Godard's films unless you understand where all the references come from? That seems like such an absurd way to approach any movie. In *Nouvelle Vague*, all the dialogue is constructed out of quotations. In multiple viewings, I've never really known where more than a few lines come from - and those mostly from Raymond Chandler and Howard Hawks, showing how solid my intellectual bonafides are. But it doesn't matter. These films aren't games of "spot the reference." The remarkable thing about *Nouvelle Vague* isn't where Godard took the quotes from, but that he wove them together into a thematically rich, coherent work of his own - and a narrative work, even, with a clever and interesting story and a mirrored structure. As Warren says above, just because you don't know where the samples come from, doesn't mean you can't appreciate what Godard does with them, how he positions them in relation to one another. I'm not denying that some additional context wouldn't be rewarding, because of course it is, but it's certainly not necessary as some people, both defenders and detractors, are alleging.

Everyone seems to think of Godard as this dour, humorless intellectual type, and dismiss his films as being for elites only. I guess these people have never seen Godard being goofily profound as Professor Pluggy, or performing slapstick routines and physical comedy in *Keep Your Right Up* and *Vladimir and Rosa*. He's funny as hell, and his films are visually rich, and his themes and ideas are accessible to anyone who watches and listens, regardless of if you've ever heard of Guatari before Glenn brought him up (I hadn't). He demands careful attention, yes, and he demands a commitment from his audience to dig into his juxtapositions of image and sound to probe the ideas he's interested in. But he certainly doesn't demand a comprehensive education in philosophy and literature to understand his films.

Finally, I think some critics have approached Film Socialisme in too po- faced a way. There is a lot of humour in the film, as in all Godard's work. Those wonderful cats, the llama, the many injokes and outjokes, the puns (which non French speakers wouldn't get) - and the wonderful cheeky child, whom the old childless Godard plainly loves. Perhaps non French speaking critics should have disqualified themselves from reviewing the film. Do American films have French subtitles at Tribeca?

I uploaded my message on 20th, but it was never posted. It is very unfair to have arguments one sided. I lost resppect for you, Roger!!

Henry

Ebert: I post all messages except objectively offensive ones.

Neil writes:
"Does that make me and my feeling pretentious? Because I believe so? Does that make me a disciple of Godard, because I am moved by his films?"

No, but this does....
"I must agree very strongly with Ezra Scalzo's rebuttal. Certainly your decision to begin the journal by reffering to Breathless is telling of your inability to comphrend the late work of Godard, films such as Oh, Woe is Me, In Praise of Love, Hail Mary, Notre Musique, Nouvelle Vague, and First Name: Carmen, which I firmly believe are far superior to the films made during the 1960's. Again, agreeing with Erza Scalzo, there is no wonder why Godard cancelled his press conference. It would have been impossible to discuss cinema and it's current state with the likes of people so lost in the trivialities of it."

What is most insufferable about JLG are people like Neil who are incapable of responding to critics without insulting their intelligence, declaring them philistines, and generally acting like asses. This idea that Godard's death = the death of cinema is so mind blowingly arrogant that I can only laugh at it and his acolytes who continue to believe fervently that he is some sort of cinematic messiah. Why there isn't room for both points of view is hard for me to understand...but his admirers are simply incapable of allowing any perceived slight go without going into attack mode.

Has anyone ever considered that JLG is just enjoying himself, and this one is simply his reimagining of the old folk tale of the Emperor's new clothes?

You know, as in: "How much meaningless imagery can I cram together before anyone manages to overcome his religious awe long enough to flat out tell me that I'm not making any kind of sense?"

Or maybe simply as in: "Let's see how my acolytes explain this."

And please, dear Godard-fans, don't worry: I'll execute myself for such blasphemy right away, without you even asking :-)

I remember seeing "Weekend" for the first time last year and being blown away and delighted by it--I love every frame of that film. Then I tried a sampling of Godard films from the 80's and 90's and my attitude dipped to: "Aw, man...what HAPPENED?"

Anyway, you gave me a little pang in the heart, Mr. Ebert, when you mentioned how you wished Truffaut lived to be 80. So do I. What a humanist he was! He and Jean Renoir were two great men who really, really cared about the characters in their films.

I have no idea if Film socialisme will or won't make it to Korea, or if I'd try to go see it if it did. I've found most his recent (last 2 decades or so) work to have folded in on itself again and again, so that it is now a baroque or rococo froth of itself referring to itself, and outside a kind of clinical look to see how ill the patient it, it is rather tiresome, even the "beauty." Like some artists perhaps JLG can be considered safely crazy, someone who were he not an artist might be institutionalized.
But it seems a disease of the critic that they turn on those they have admired when that soul has stopped making what the critic liked once-upon-a-time. Sort of like lovers.
Creative work is organic and follows the trajectory of life - it is young and energetic, it sprouts roots, it thrusts forward, it blooms, it stands alive, it is beaten by weather and circumstances, it grows old and withered, it dies. Some bloom early, some late (Oliveira), some constantly (Bresson), and some never at all.
Let it be and be gracious to those who long since paid their dues.

Ebert: As a filmmaker/artist yourself, you speak with much eloquence.

Not a very good point, BLG, as you yourself go into, what you call 'attack mode.' Although my initial post was somewhat uncalled for I can at least say the rest of them were not, and were done with careful thought rather than the anger stemming from the initial one. The fact that you bring up "Godard's death = the death of cinema" without myself nor anyone else bringing it up only exposes your own bias. You also seem to interpret my claims of being moved by the late work of Godard "fervently believing he is a cinematic messiah." You also claim that there should be room for two points of view, and while it may not be apparent in my initial post, it certainly is in the next few, as well as on the next two blogs on which I posted on, whenever the subject of "Film Socialism" came up. You however, seem to be secluding yourself into one.

I did not call Roger a philistine either, and I apologized to him for the posts unruly nature, and I can only hope that he accepted.

By the way Roger, if I may ask, did you read the recent Godard interview I posted up on the next blog? And if so, what did you think of it?

Ah, and Ms. Haws, one more thing..

I meant to say intellectually stimulating and not simply stimulating, and I realize that there are two very different meanings there. There is very little stimulating from the search for it. I suppose stimulating isn't even the right word. Godard's post-1979 work is filled with theological dialouge, none moreso than 1993's Helas Pour Moi, which is my personal favorite of his work. The key to this film, and by extension the vast majority of Godard's late work, is not looking for literal meaning in the dialouge, but simply watching and listening. This may be a reason many English speakers find these films so difficult, as the interplay between Sound and Image in these films are akin to that of Light and Darkness, and subtitles draw your attention away from what is directly on screen. This is why I find the 'solution,' as seen in the subtitles in "Film Socialism" all the more extrodinary. The result, I find, is astonishingly beautiful, moving and thought provoking.

Anyways, Ms. Haws, I hope you find the time to read through this post and perhaps respond to it; you seem to be someone who is capable of continuing a coherent discussion, and that's more than I can say for some.

Regarding the Apollo 13 comment, I assuming that someone with the political views of Godard must despise the excesses of an organization like NASA, Im pretty sure the statement was made in reaction to the absurd idea of sending humans into space, which is very unnecessary in the age of robotics.
Many things the space program does are absolutely necessary, but during the Cold War it came down to a PR competition between the US and SU.

I am with Neil.
Anyway, I believe this entire discussion is useless because, mainly due to the fact that anti Godard folks blamed what Godard said or how he is, and they refused to discuss what they saw on the screen. Plus it is too tiresome to get each posting to be approved. Why each message has to be approved......it just kills flows of discussion.

Ebert: I'm sorry, Henry. But the reason they have to be approved is that the internet comment threads are awash with moronic, obscene imbecility.

Actually, not many people here have seen the Godard.

Thank you Roger for your kind comment. You may be right about the nature of posts here.
I just would like to say this; People say Godard’s movies are difficult to comprehend and that they are less emotionally involved. For me his movies represent the spirit of resistance. For example, Godard loves Hollywood movies (especially before 1960, auteurs such as Walsh, Hawks, Welles, Lewis, Ray, and Ford ..), but he never made typical Hollywood movies in his life.
Why? His styles in movie making are the tactics for producing the combination of images/sounds/words not to be easily consumed and institutionalized and incorporated into the system (I have to add that it does not necessarily mean that Godard dislike stories).
In an interview, he was concerned and afraid that messages in Fahrenheit 9/11 “help Bush more than harm him”. Godard is referring that unarmed discourse that Moore carried in his movie may be easily converted to dualism in favor of Bush.
I can fairly say that Godard is blindly stubborn/passionate as the characters such as “elle” or her grandmother in Eloge d’Amour, or Camille and Olga in For Ever Mozart and Notre Musique respectively.
I have to confess that I was equally emotionally involved when I saw Notre Musique and Gran Torino, though their styles are really different.

Ebert: I can get involved in widely different kinds of films. Am just watching the work of Maya Deren, streaming on Netflix. Deliberate, and yet emotionally much more urgent than ordinary pictures.

Just the other day, and before coming upon this journal entry, I was watching the DVD of "Four Short Films" by Godard and Anne-Marie Mieville, work made in the 90s and the early 00s. I thought the films were stunning, full of ideas about the nature and role of art in the world, with moments of such beauty and feeling that getting through the more difficult passages was almost always rewarded. Actually, while watching I was thinking, I'd be interested in Roger Ebert's take on this.

There's lots of time left for further evaluations. I suspect we have thousands of years to unpack, rebuild, and synapsitize Godard's frames. Our robotic replicants will study then in earnest fury, finding connections not hitherto considered by mortals or Maker.

Hey really enjoyed the film. People should give it a shot, the plot is not as hard to parse as some are making out. Part 1: A Nazi war criminal has taken up a Jewish identity, a Russian detective investigates what he did with the Spanish gold. Part 2: The parents abandon a gas station and leave it to their insolent children. Part 3: There is no plot, just enjoy.

I prefer a few of Godard's documentaries, but this is my favorite of his narrative features. There's a tenderness about his work that's been undulating throughout his career since Ici et Ailleurs when he first showed that he fully understood the consequences of death. That tenderness was strong in Nouvelle vague, weak in For Ever Mozart, and now here it is perhaps strongest of all.