This film's an experiment, and I think it's fair to say that it doesn't quite pull it off. But I nonetheless found it quite an engaging film.
The plot is threadbare. An American journalist and her French husband are accidentally embroiled in an occupation at a factory. The different characters put their points of view about the occupation, and as the film goes on, the perspective widens, until it really isn't about the factory anymore, but about the state of France.
There are some striking scenes here, all of them pictorial rather than dramatic. Many of the characters speak to camera in one-sided dialogues (rather than monologues— the distinction is obvious when you watch). There are a few of Godard's trademark long panning shots. Fragments of vision recur or are recast. The effect of this style is to externalise all the characters. None is a mind or a soul. They are rather expressions of a certain point of view, or noises in the cacophony of society and history.
One of the film's more successful elements is its frame-narrative. Two voices discuss how the film ought to be put together, what it ought to achieve, and play around with the characters' fates. The frequent references to Brecht in the body of the film meld nicely with the frame, and make it clear that Godard is going for an "Entfremdungseffekt"—this is not a film to be immersed in, but one that is supposed to provoke reflection.
And that it most certainly does. I felt downright uncomfortable at times, as the film ruthlessly sent up the supposed insight of intellectuals, and the supposed historical effectiveness of political parties. But the film also had a light touch, and its gloriously silly penultimate scene left me laughing at my political certainties, rather than empty and sad.
It doesn't quite cohere, but I'm very glad I saw it. 7/10
The plot is threadbare. An American journalist and her French husband are accidentally embroiled in an occupation at a factory. The different characters put their points of view about the occupation, and as the film goes on, the perspective widens, until it really isn't about the factory anymore, but about the state of France.
There are some striking scenes here, all of them pictorial rather than dramatic. Many of the characters speak to camera in one-sided dialogues (rather than monologues— the distinction is obvious when you watch). There are a few of Godard's trademark long panning shots. Fragments of vision recur or are recast. The effect of this style is to externalise all the characters. None is a mind or a soul. They are rather expressions of a certain point of view, or noises in the cacophony of society and history.
One of the film's more successful elements is its frame-narrative. Two voices discuss how the film ought to be put together, what it ought to achieve, and play around with the characters' fates. The frequent references to Brecht in the body of the film meld nicely with the frame, and make it clear that Godard is going for an "Entfremdungseffekt"—this is not a film to be immersed in, but one that is supposed to provoke reflection.
And that it most certainly does. I felt downright uncomfortable at times, as the film ruthlessly sent up the supposed insight of intellectuals, and the supposed historical effectiveness of political parties. But the film also had a light touch, and its gloriously silly penultimate scene left me laughing at my political certainties, rather than empty and sad.
It doesn't quite cohere, but I'm very glad I saw it. 7/10