Film Review
When a cinéphile talks about the French Revolution, you can be
fairly certain that he is not alluding to that messy business that took
place in France in the latter years of 18th Century, in which
aristocrat hunting became the national sport and the country acquired a
constitution and a catchy anthem.
No, what he has in mind is that
other revolution, the one that hit French cinema with the force of a
tsunami and tornado combined in the late 1950s thanks to the emergence
of a dynamic new breed of film director who sought to make cinema
truer, bolder and more relevant to contemporary audiences. One of
the leading figures in this French New Wave was Jean-Luc Godard, a
former critic on the influential review paper
Les Cahiers du cinéma, who
had an impact of seismic proportions with his debut feature,
À bout de souffle.
When asked what the film was supposed to be about, Godard simply said
that it was a documentary about Jean Seberg and Jean-Paul Belmondo.
From the end result, it is hard to believe that
À bout de souffle started
out as nothing more than a conventional gangster film. The basic
storyline came from François Truffaut, who had developed it for
his first feature but later rejected it in favour of another, which
became
Les 400 coups (1959).
Truffaut passed the plot concept over to Jean-Luc Godard, who was stuck
for an idea for his first film. The story concept was not
one that impressed Godard, but two aspects appealed to him: the notion
of a man obsessed with death and the association with classic film
noir. From this basic premise, Godard was able to pursue some of
the themes that would become central to his oeuvre - existentialism
(fatalism versus free-will) and power struggles in male-female
relationships.
What started out as a modest tribute to Howard Hawks'
The Big Sleep ended up as
something far more profound - one man's search for identity and
meaning, seen through the distorting prism of a gangster thriller
played as a romantic comedy. It was not the subject of the film
that mattered, though. What was far more significant was how it
was put together. It was as if its director had deliberately set
out to break every single rule in the professional filmmakers'
handbook. The straitjacket that had throttled creativity in
French cinema for the past few decades was ripped open by Godard in
this film, with as much frenzy and dramatic impact as Hitchcock's
carving up of Janet Leigh in
Psycho.
Cinema would never be the same again.
In view of the splash
À bout
de souffle made, you would think that Jean-Luc Godard knew
exactly what he had in mind before he started making the film.
The reality was that Godard had only a vague idea of what the film was
meant to be about when he began filming in August 1959 and pretty well
made it up as he went along. (This is not as revolutionary as its
sounds - many of the films in the silent era were made this way,
including most of Chaplin's early shorts.) Instead of a
script, all that Godard had was a few sketchy notes which allowed him
to give his actors a broad outline of what he wanted them to perform
each day. Although he was not asking his actors to
improvise, Godard did give them considerable freedom, something that
his lead, Jean-Paul Belmondo, found extremely liberating.
Belmondo had previously worked with Godard on his humorous short film
Charlotte et son Jules and had
turned down the opportunity to work with Julien Duvivier on
Boulevard
(1960) because he favoured Godard's directing technique. Belmondo
was, at this stage in his career, still an unknown commodity, and had
only been seen in small supporting roles. It was for this reason
that producer Georges de Beauregard insisted that Godard cast an
established actress for the female lead, so the director selected Jean
Seberg on the strength of her performance in Otto Preminger's
Bonjour tristesse (1958). At
the time, Seberg was under contract with Columbia Pictures. When
Godard offered Columbia 12,000 dollars or a percentage of the profits
to release the actress, the studio opted for the former, convinced that
the film would flop.
Not having to work to a script or a schedule gave Godard considerable
freedom, which he exploited fully, although neither of his lead actors
had much confidence that he would end up with a coherent film.
À bout de souffle was
filmed entirely in Paris in real locations using a lightweight Eclair Cameflex camera,
which allowed for some
interesting tracking shots with the camera operator (Raoul Coutard)
following Belmondo and Seberg through the busy Parisian locations with
the camera mounted on his shoulder. There was no provision for
lighting, so the entire film was shot in natural light, achieving a
near-documentary feel which other directors of the nouvelle vague would
emulate in their films.
Godard and his crew would turn up at various locations
(including the offices of
Les Cahiers du cinéma)
and start filming without
requesting permission, not bothering about the passers-by who gawped at
the camera whilst a scene was being recorded.
Notice also how there is absolutely no reaction from the surrounding Parisians
in the sequence at the end of the film where Belmondo is chased down a street
by his guntoting enemies.
These little touches of unreality, splinters in the fourth wall,
reveal how easily we are taken in by the filmmaker's art, how
willingly we accept the reality of what we see on the screen.
They also serve to remind us that reality can itself be an illusion.
Barely ten minutes into the film, we know that Belmondo's character (Michel)
has all but lost his sense of reality; he is living in a dream-like
fantasy - perhaps he even imagines that he is only acting in a movie?
Maybe he really does believe he is Bogart - once he has taken the bullet, he'll be able to walk
off the set and shoot another picture the next day. But is this delusion
or reality? Could this be what life really is - when we die, we just
get up and play another role, live another life, ad infinitum?
After the month-long shoot, Godard then had the arduous task of editing
the film into a marketable proposition. His initial cut ran to
three hours, which was unacceptable for a theatrical release.
Jean-Pierre Melville (the director who was probably Godard's biggest
influence and who appears in the film in a cameo role) suggested
removing everything that was not relevant to the main plot. This
would undoubtedly have resulted in a far more conventional gangster
thriller, but Godard had not set out to make this kind of film.
Instead, he did pretty well the exact opposite of what Melville
advised, dispensing with most of the scenes that deserved to be there
(on narrative grounds) and keeping the rest. Because no dialogue
had been recorded whilst the film was being shot, this had to be added
during post-production - by this stage, Godard had got round to writing
the script. (How many other filmmakers write the script after
completing the filming?) Whilst Godard's inspired use of
the jump-cut is an essential part of the film's aesthetic and fits
because it reveals the main protagonist's fractured psychology through
a jarring temporal distortion, it is likely that this was an entirely
fortuitous outcome of the way in which the director chose to make his
film. This is precisely the kind of creative jolt that tends to
get smothered by the conventional approach to filmmaking, which
requires everything to be mapped out in advance. Being a great fan of jazz, Godard hired
the great jazz pianist and composer Martial Solal to provide the film's
score, another touch of modernity which helped to set it apart
from other contemporary French films.
The release of
À bout de
souffle in March 1960 was a pivotal moment in film
history. Most of France's leading critics
were ecstatic in their praise for the film and many saw it as
a turning point in French cinema, the day on which the
temple of comformity came tumbling down. Although today's film
historians will tell us that the French New Wave began two years
previously, with debut features from Claude Chabrol, Louis Malle and
François Truffaut,
À
bout de souffle was the first film of the nouvelle vague to show
just what it represented - a decisive and irreversible break with the
cinema of the past. The film was not only groundbreaking cinema,
it was also a commercial success, attracting an audience of two million
in France on its first release. In addition, it won Godard two prestigious
awards - the Silver Bear for Best Director
at the Berlin International Film Festival in 1960 and the Prix Jean Vigo.
As well as putting Jean-Luc Godard and Jean-Paul Belmondo on the map,
launching two cinema legends on their respective careers,
À bout de souffle altered
everyone's perception of what a film should be and how films should be
made. The conventions which most filmmakers had been slavishly
adhering to for the past twenty or so years were exposed for what they
were - unnecessary constraints that inhibited creative freedom and
denied audiences new and exciting cinema-going experiences. It
was the dawn of a new age - the age of the auteur. What happened
in France in the 1960s would be repeated in other countries around the
world, including the United States. The rich diversity that we
see in cinema today (particularly in France) can be seen as a
consequence of the celluloid revolution that was instigated by Jean-Luc
Godard and his New Wave contemporaries in the early 1960s, and the
film that rang the changes most stridently was
À bout de souffle, a film so
radical, so subversive that it left audiences and critics breathless.
© James Travers 2011
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Jean-Luc Godard film:
Charlotte et son Jules (1960)
Film Synopsis
Michel Poiccard is a small-time crook on a mission: to recover some money
owed to him by his criminal associates. To that end, he steals a car
in Marseille and heads for Paris. It is a bad omen that the car's glove
compartment contains a loaded gun. When a policeman indicates for Michel
to stop the car, he doesn't hesitate to use the gun to kill the troublesome
cop. Now he is in deeper trouble than ever before, but he seems not
to care. For the moment, he is young and free, and that's all that
matters. On his arrival in Paris, Michel has a chance encounter with
a young American student with whom he had previously had a brief affair in
Nice.
Patricia appears glad to meet up with her former lover - it offers her a
welcome break from her temporary job, selling American newspapers on the
Champs-Elysées. Michel needs a place to hide out so he persuades
the trusting Patricia to let him stay with her in her shoebox apartment.
The young woman is glad of Michel's company but his obvious attempts at seduction
prove fruitless, mainly because she is pregnant and uncertain who the father
is. As Patricia hurries off to Orly airport to interview a famous writer
at a press conference, Michel sets about recovering his money.
First, Michel heads for a car park to equip himself with another stolen car,
but as he does so he can't help noticing his photograph in the newspapers.
It seems he has already been identified as a cop killer. Aware that
the net is closing in on him, Michel takes refuge in his girlfriend's apartment.
When Patricia realises she is sheltering a dangerous criminal she secretly
denounces him to the police. This betrayal disgusts Michel and he tries
to make a break for it. Hunted in the streets of Paris by his police
pursuers he doesn't get far. By the time Fate catches up with him he
is completely breathless. Patricia is left puzzling over his final
word:
dégueulasse...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.