In this occasional series, every once in a while we will view and re-view the films of Jean-Luc Godard, who died in September 2022.
BAND OF OUTSIDERS (1964) (A) - This iconic black-and-white low-level gangster flick feels like not only the height of New Wave '60s cool but also like the beta testing of slacker irony. Two hipster doofuses get together with the ultimate manic pixie dream girl to attempt a two-bit robbery at the flat where the young woman lives.
But the trio waste time and don't really plan the heist, just sort of ad-libbing as they go. They have a hollowed out joie de vivre. They banter and philosophize. They dash through a museum. They have their own (iconic) hipster dance at a smoke-filled jazz club. They are rebels without a care, yet they feel weighted down by life.
Jean-Luc Godard, working with his regular cinematographer of the era, Raoul Coutard, has a facility with the camera that can be mesmerizing. The camera glides in every direction to capture not just the motion of the actors but the cadence of each scene. It is like a master-class in moviemaking.
Anna Karina is charming as innocent Odile, fending off the oafish advances of Franz (Sami Frey) and Arthur (Claude Brasseur). Even though some of the classic scenes have been hallowed in cinematic history, there still exists a vibrant film churning to its offbeat narrative. It's funny and bittersweet and confounding at times. Godard's rambling narration betrays his love-hate relationship with America and its culture. He's at the top of his game.
2 OR 3 THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HER (1967) (B+) - Godard gets more political with this surly story of a housewife who works the streets to make ends meet. It falls during Godard's sumptuous late '60s phase of primary colors and counter-culture extremism. Here the predominant colors are blue and yellow, which appear together over and over, mainly in the outfit of the main character, Juliette (Marina Vlady), who boasts Russian roots.
One day she drops off her screaming child at a day-care center near her suburban Paris home and then goes off to earn money through sex work. Godard tosses a lot of concepts at us -- he frequently cuts to construction sites, and he parodies ads for consumer products, both of which suggest he is taking aim at postwar capitalism. Juliette's husband is a ham-radio fanatic who follows LBJ's war in Vietnam.
Godard narrates in hushed tones, expounding on some of his philosophical themes. Just like with his last films of the past two decades, I find it hard to follow, and not just because he sometimes traffics in non-sequiturs. I know rudimentary French but not nearly enough to follow along without subtitles; I wonder if it is richer to merely listen and understand while paying attention to the visuals on the screen as opposed to having to do all that and read subtitles. Something gets lost in the multitasking, I'm sure.
Vlady is compelling as a modern woman having an average day -- shopping for clothes (stripes, stripes, everywhere!), going to the carwash, etc. She and others sometimes break the cinematic artifice and address the camera, ad-libbing under Godard's goading. Juliette's attitude is refreshing. It's as if Godard's sexual voyeurism, 55 years later, has taken a long feminist journey toward empowerment of a typical sex worker; what might have aged poorly has begun to age well again. (The sex is not erotic but rather boring or absurd.)
Her husband and children fade into the background during most of the film, mainly bookending her narrative arc to drive home the blandness of domesticity. It is a very French attitude to assert your individuality and not be defined by the role of mother and wife 24/7. Juliette's routine existence is bold, daring, and colorfully rendered.
BONUS TRACKS
Previous takes on Godard's oeuvre:
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