Godard Forever

If you’ve ever seen one of those student films where a brooding, turtlenecked doofus reads poetry to his little doll of a girlfriend, rolled your eyes at the black and white pomposity of it all, then yawned twice, hard, because it was so preposterously “artsy,” you probably were watching the influence of Jean Luc Godard watered down through the decades. Open intellectualism like his is rare these days in commercial art, but nobody sane would deny that Godard is a unique and innovative artist whose influence has rippled into the present.

Bald-faced intellectualism might be too tough to stomach these days; generally, Hollywood fears anything too deep because they don’t want to lose their audience. Most of the big blockbusters are aimed at children or adults who don’t want to think while they watch. Fair enough; mindless movies have their place, but a balanced diet of different type of movies is ideal. Unfortunately Hollywood sometimes seems too much like McDonald’s.

It makes perfect sense. If you’re going to put a hundred million dollars into a production, you don’t want people walking out confused and telling their friends it was “pretentious.” Spoon-feed the audience every step of the way, leave no doubt about who the bad guys are or which dashing hero they should root for, and they’ll have more cranial capacity to appreciate those expensive explosions.

But some people back in the sixties (and a few even before that) thought that film as an art form could appeal to a higher brow, people craving intellectual stimulation. In the opening moments of Alphaville, the supercomputer Alpha 60 tells us that sometimes reality is too complex to understand, and that legends, or art, allow fragments of that complexity to travel around the world and connect with human minds.

Alphaville

Alphaville is a classic, pulpy depiction of Logic and Order vs. Art and Love, set in a futuristic world that uses technological and scientific concepts and character archetypes almost thirty years old when Alphaville was made in 1965. What’s that about? Well, it’s worth thinking about. And while the dialogue between these two central counterforces might seem superficial today, the film is just fun to watch. Part of its appeal is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

Godard is at his best when he balances philosophy with humour, and Alphaville is a prime example. Masculin Féminin is another. But even at his heaviest, his direction is riveting, the characters think and feel and have passion, and he does it all with inimitable style. Fifty years after his heyday, Godard’s movies still hold sway and I think I know why: someone has to make films to appeal to intellectuals. And no, Inception does not count.

Granted, Godard’s intellectualism isn’t subtle, it isn’t buried within the narrative or eluded to, but slaps you in the face like it’s challenging you to a duel. But certainly conversations about politics or philosophy or love actually do happen in the real world. Why shouldn’t those conversations happen in a movie? Pretension is underrated.

This month the TIFF Bell Lightbox hosts Godard Forever: Part One, a retrospective of his work featuring some of his best features and short films. The theater itself delivers on every level, but seeing classic auteurs like Godard there feels like a special treat. If you are in Toronto in February, think it over.

Going Abroad

I recently had to make a tough decision about a very dear item. My Twin Peaks VHS box-set had to go. There is no way I could just throw it out; this is the series that started my high school obsession. It blew my mind and made me realize I wanted to make movies. It also introduced me to worlds I never knew existed.

Fortunately I’ve found the box-set a good home, and I hope the recipient will get from it even a fraction of what I did. I have a lot of history with those tapes. They were my first introduction to the work of David Lynch, who quickly ousted Stanley Kubrick as my favorite director. I think Kubrick is probably the greatest that ever lived, but there’s something mysterious about Lynch that I can’t resist.

I think it was in the biography Lynch on Lynch where he mentioned that Federico Fellini was one of his major influences. The first Fellini movie I watched was . I find it hard to talk about  because it hit me on such a personal level, but suffice it to say that I think it’s one of the most beautiful films ever made. So I lost myself in the Italian auteur’s catalog. This was a breakthrough for me because I don’t believe I had ever seen a foreign film before 8½, or if I had, it wasn’t memorable.

Now I had a taste for it. I was interested to see movies from other cultures, movies from filmmakers who had a different way of life. I quickly realized that the Hollywood system seemed content within a certain set of values, a homogenous morality and thin, nearly meaningless output. So I unconsciously decided to become a film snob. Fortunately, my brother Jay had a copy of Agurre: The Wrath of God.

That stunning, visceral, hallucinatory take on Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (the same source material as Apocalypse Now) made me giddy, and Aguirre is still one of my favorites. German master Werner Herzog became my next guru. He is one of the most exciting and prolific filmmakers I know of, even to this day, and the book Herzog on Herzog made me laugh my ass off. His genius is unique.

From Germany my tastes headed north, to Denmark, when Lars von Trier hypnotized me with The Element of Crime. I really did not connect with all of von Trier’s movies, but he is a magician when he hits, and his recent return to form has me considering, maybe masochistically, of going to see his new film Nymphomaniac.

Near that time my brother showed me Alphaville by Jean Luc Godard. It was funny, it was noir, it was smart, and it was beautiful. Plus, it had Anna Karina. I balanced Godard’s panache with the solemnity of Ingmar Bergman in Sweden. While Masculin Feminin had me giggling, Scenes From A Marriage left me gutted.

But when I caught wind of Andrei Tarkovsky, I started a pilgrimage to Russia starting with the sci-fi classic Solaris. It could easily be argued that Tarkovsky films are boring. He even joked about it himself. But the word boring tends to lose all meaning for me when I get wrapped up in a journey of Tarkovsky’s. Even the bizarre, didactic Stalkera 2 hour, 40 minute sci-fi allegory about transcendence–ranks as one of my favorite films.

Just like that, I had made it from a small logging town in Washington state all the way across Europe. It’s rare that we can trace the cause of our decisions in such clear ways, but I have no doubt that if it wasn’t for that Twin Peaks VHS box-set, I wouldn’t have seen so much of Europe so fast. And now it’s time to move on. After all, the Twin Peaks Blu-ray box-set comes out this year.