Part Of The Picture: Lights, Camera, Artifice
LIGHTS, CAMERA, ARTIFICE
DEC 26, 2009 – AMONGST THE EXPECTEDLY SUMPTUOUS EXTRAS in The Criterion Collection presentation of Une Femme Est Une Femme (A Woman is a Woman) is an audio-only promotional recording made for the original 1960s release. It runs about 34 minutes, and it features Godard talking about his film, as well as film in general. The specifics of his commentary, therefore, converge on as well as diverge from the specifics of the plot points (which aren’t of importance in a Godard outing, in any case). Early on, he reveals, “Angela wants a baby right away. Like many women, she might suddenly have wanted to go to Marseille, to have an expensive new dress, or a chocolate éclair or something… A sudden yearning which she would rather die for than leave unsatisfied. Which is silly. But there it is: A Woman is a Woman.”
This “explanation” of the capricious title sounds simple enough, a narrative thread that could be woven into film by a million other directors – but soon after, Godard makes it his own. “And after all, for a woman of 24, wanting a child within 24 hours is a noble notion.” Now we realise he wasn’t being facetious, earlier, when he compared Angela’s need for a baby “right away” to buying a new dress or going to Marseille. In her case, apparently, “right away” does indeed mean “right away” – that very instant. But how does one achieve such an obviously impossible goal? Why, by entering the enchanted realm of the movie musical, of course, where anything is possible. Why burden a film intended as a tribute to (and “an interrogation of”) the American musical with possibility or even plausibility? Why not untether the plot from persnickety reality and let it soar, like an unchained line of melody?
Appropriately, Godard’s heroine reflects this attitude. Near the beginning of the film, Angela (Anna Karina) frees the audience from all traditional illusions – of fourth walls and staged realities – by gaily calling out, “Lights. Camera. Action.” (And subsequently, leaving a café, she winks at us.) Godard continues, in the promotional recording, with his mission statement. “Now… Now, since, as Bazin said, the cinema usurps the role of our eyes to present a world consonant with our dreams, it was extraordinarily tempting to make a [camera] usurp the gaze of this young Parisian, and while proving that a woman is always a woman, to also prove that the cinema is always cinema.” And there, with that wink, he (with the abetment of his gorgeous heroine) achieves both ends – reminding us that we’re in thrall to the artifice of cinema, as well as the allure of woman.
The director continues, “The invention of the cinema is based on a gigantic error: that of recording the image of man, and reproducing it by projecting it till the end of time. In other words, believing that a strip of celluloid is less perishable than a block of stone or even memory. This strange belief means that from Griffith to Bresson, the history of cinema, and the history of its errors are one: the error of trying to paint ideas better than music, to illustrate actions better than the novel, to describe feelings better than painting… But this error, akin to Eve in the Garden of Eden, becomes fascinating in a thriller, arresting in a Western, blinding in a war film, and alluring in what is normally called a musical.” This philosophy, too, is evinced by Godard’s heroine, at the close of a conversation that arises out of Angela’s confession – to Alfred (Jean-Paul Belmondo) – that she’s sad.
Alfred observes, “You’re a funny girl.” (Though surely unintended at the time, seen today, it’s impossible not to imagine he’s tipping a hat to Funny Girl, the Barbra Streisand musical that arrived later in the decade.) Angela asks, “How’s Agnes doing? Did she have her baby?” Alfred shrugs, “Dunno. It’s none of my business now.” Angela wonders, apropos of nothing (or perhaps, with the liberating conviction that the dialogue in a musical does not have to be bound to normative conventions either), “In French, if the adjective comes after the noun instead of before, is the meaning the same?” Alfred is unsure what she means. Angela explains, “For example, is a ‘blessed event’ the same as ‘an event that’s blessed’?” He asks if that’s why she’s sad. Angela declares, “No. Because I’d like to be in a musical comedy. Starring Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly. Choreography by Bob Fosse.”
Une Femme est Une Femme (1961, French; aka A Woman is a Woman). Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Starring Jean-Claude Brialy, Anna Karina, Jean-Paul Belmondo.
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I haven’t seen any of Godard’s films, so incapable to comment on this piece’s core conversation.
But reading:”…with that wink…..we’re in thrall to the artifice of cinema, as well as the allure of woman.”, I was reminded of ‘Paa’’s opening titles.
Jaya Bachhan reads out the opening credits for no apparent reason. (The too-much-thinking types may initially think that this has something to do with Progeria. May be Progeria patients can’t read but can listen or see. Jaya has THAT kind of earnestness about her delivery, during this part.) In my opinion, that was such a phony, and utterly miscalculated, start to an equally disappointing film.
But what did YOU think of Paa’s opening? How comfortable you are with the breaking-the-wall scenarios? (Forget the Akshay kumar looking comically at us, after being slapped in every other movie.)
Had Anna Karina not winked, after saying Lights-Camera-Action (and had the commentary by Godard been missing), would you have appreciated the ‘trick’ as much? (And i use ‘trick’ deliberately here, for what is cinema if not magic, or as Godard calls it beautifully ‘a gigantic error’.)
Varun: I didn’t react one way or the other to the opening credits of Paa. I generally find Jaya Bachchan a bit studied these days. In a film that had a central gimmick, I guess this was just another gimmick. Perhaps because Abhishek produced the film, he decided to have his mom read out the titles, especially as the film, despite its title, is really an ode to Maa. And I don’t know if I’d really consider this a “breaking-the-wall” scenario.
About the latter part of your comment, I’m not sure I understand your question. Are you asking if I would have understood what Godard was going for had Karina not winked? But then, his films are always experimental, and fourth-wall-breaking is very much a part of his bag of tricks. So yes, I do think I’d have cottoned on — especially because (and unlike the credits of Paa) the wink is an integral part of the way this story is told. (It’s a very deliberate deconstruction of certain movie traditions.) It’s not a one-off gimmick.
Every Godard film I see leaves me restless; the camera & the characters are always on the move. Be it breathless or Pierrot Le Fou, his characters always viewed things like morality as trivial. But here, it was interesting to see Anna Karina pray in the scene when she gets out of Belmondo’s house towards the end & just before she hits the bed that night and we don’t see her do that before.
May not top my fav Godard films, but this one had plenty of cool elements, like the scene where Belmondo shows her a photo and then puts a record on the jukebox to play accompaniment to Karina’s anger/jealousy or the scenes where Karina and Emile communicate thro’ books. Neve really understood the significance of the couple who were always kissing near Karina’s Apartment building – any explanations on that?
I don’t know whether it’s a comedy or a tragedy, but in any case it’s a masterpiece.
Wonderful stuff. And that Godard quote about cinema being one of errors has been troubling me for some time. Any thoughts on what error he is talking about or how it relates to genre cinema, Mr. Rangan?
brangan,
regarding ‘Paa’, I agree it was just the right gimmick to start a film with gimmick as its central premise, and when you add ‘maa’ element, as well as the gimmick being delivered by the mother-wife (respectively) of the father-son pair in the film, it becomes a fully loaded gimmick.
As for Karina’s winking, I never pointed to that as any kind of gimmick. Though you have answered to a great extent what I had intended to asked, my exact question was: Would the trick, of her saying ‘Lights….’ seemed incomplete without the wink that succeeded it?
(Of course, as you said, in Godard’s universe, such experiments would always seem complete as they are not one-off….and can be clubbed with other elements/hints in the film)
And just to avoid any confusion: I use the word ‘trick’ to indicate a genuine cinematic tool weaved meaningfully into the narrative, while ‘gimmick’ is more of a one-off, for-the-gallery aberration.
Balaji Shankar: Actually, the films he made during this phase are my favourites. Contempt, Alphaville and so on. Look at the invention of the scene you mentioned, where they communicate through books. It’s so profound in a way, yet the way he presents it, it’s hard not to smile, as if it’s just two petulant adults behaving silly, especially carrying the bedside lamp around.
Yeah, I didn’t get that kissing reference either, but what’s the bet that it harks back to some other film?
Mr. Just Another Film Buff: I don’t think it relates especially to genre cinema. I think he’s talking about the attempt, overall, of cinema to aspire to the heights of the other arts, and the belief that the “photorealistic” aspect of the medium somehow lends it more permanence than, say, the abstractness of music and so on. What do you think?
Varun: Reg. “Would the trick, of her saying ‘Lights…” seemed incomplete without the wink that succeeded it?” I don’t think so, for there are *two* fourth-wall-breaking elements here. (1) The actress saying what the director should actually be saying, and thus drawing the audience out of her “story,” and (2) The wink that confirms her collusion with the audience. So with either one of these elements missing, the other one still does what the director wants, i.e. break the fourth wall.
Oops, completely forgot to follow this one up. Apologies. Desipundit should enable comment follow-up.
As for the cinema of errors, I have only the least idea. James Monaco, in his book The New Wave, quotes the same interview and makes a passing comment (which is cryptic too) about it:
“This profusion of possibilities and the confusion of media are what make genre films so seductive.”
and then gives a snippet from a Godard interview about this specific film where the director tells us that he wanted to make a neo-realist musical. He knew it was contradictory and this error is what made the film so attractive.
What I guess he means by “error in genre films” is the artifice it tries to create using its narrative. So correcting this error of trying to build a coherent, believable, isolated diegetic world would mean breaking out of the narrative to speak to the audience and exposing the artifice of the film. I guess this is what explains the self-reflexivity of Godard’s films (along with the question of ethics that Monaco discusses) where there error of trying to create a permanent, false reality is rectified to prove that films don’t exist in vacuum.
But then, this may be completely off target too.