Godard in the rain
DD’s in Chicago. Ry’s stuck in NYC. It’s raining outside and I’m still in my pajamas, watching French New Wave films by Godard from the 60s. Yesterday was Alphaville, today’s is Le Petit Soldat, which tops off the other eight or nine I’ve already seen. We’re on a kick to watch every Brando film, Godard film, Cassavetes, and Kurosawa film ever made. I like Godard’s movies because they go completely against the conventions of today:
Someone’s always reading aloud in Godard films. People speak in poetry, half the time, and they frown as they speak. Improvisational dialogue and oddly-timed voiceover narrative is intriguing and different. His portrayal of women makes me puke, though: their incalcitrance, their lubricious, fickle attitudes, plus their unfailing youth & beauty (Why, Godard, when there are so many normal-looking women who can also act?). But he uses wide shots and long takes, tracking motion instead of cut-cut-cut close-ups, which these days is refreshing. If he focused more on reality and less on the ideal of beauty and the ideal of politics and the ideal of masculinity, his films would be much better. Then again, I’m just a little girl with a little film crew and I have no idea if Rezeroing has even won audience award yet.
Tra la, tra la.