Skip to main content

Film Review: À bout de souffle (1960)

There are so many gorgeous stills from this film I could hardly choose one
Source: ourgoldenage.com.au

Qu'est-ce que c'est ‘dégueulasse’?


In theory, I’m watching this film to improve my French… or because I’m a total sucker for a pretentious romance film.

À bout de souffle, or Breathless, is director Jean-Luc Godard’s debut feature length film, released in France in 1960. The story follows petty criminal and scumbag Michel Poiccard (Jean-Paul Belmondo) who models himself on Humphrey Bogart and, having rashly killed a policeman pursuing him from Nice, flees to Paris and rekindles his relationship with American journalism student Patricia Franchini (Jean Seberg). Poiccard attempts to collect debt from an underworld associate whilst trying (unsuccessfully) to convince Franchini, who sells copies of the New York Herald Tribune on the Champs-Élysées to supplement her studying at the Sorbonne, to escape to Italy with him.

Breathless was very innovative in its time, and although filmed in black and white, feels unexpectedly modern today. It is characterised by jump cuts, many scenes with no lighting, improvised lines and unofficial filming locations to add to the spontaneity of the action and the almost jaded sexual tension between Michel and Patricia. The rather long scene where the two talk – about nothing in particular – in bed in Patricia’s apartment is a personal favourite. The desires of the two leads are somewhat ambivalent, and both feel bored and in search of an adventure, whether they can admit it to themselves or not. Do they really love one another? Did they ever? While you ponder that, Seberg’s outfits are a bohemian spectacle in themselves: think Breton stripes, cats-eye sunglasses, pleats and boater hats. Having failed to make it in Hollywood, Seberg shines in this gem of French cinema.

Belmondo’s portrayal of Michel Poiccard with his masculine swagger punctuated with a more vulnerable side, is reminiscent of Marlon Brando’s Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and James Dean’s Jim Stark of Rebel Without a Cause, released five years previously in 1955. Godard claimed that “all you need for a movie is a gun and a girl”, and he’s certainly stuck to his formula with a À bout de souffle, with undertones of film noir (minus the overly clichéd storyline).

Banned for four years one at one point after its release for its immoral content, Godard’s film is now considered to be a nouvelle vague masterpiece which recently celebrated its 50th anniversary with a re-release. If you’re learning French, Breathless is actually pretty helpful, even with the subtitles on; and if not, the beautiful visuals of Paris make up for what you can’t understand. Oh, and let’s not forget that infamous closing line: “Qu'est-ce que c'est ‘dégueulasse’?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T-Shirt - John Frusciante

Dedicated to Clara Balzary, bandmate Flea's daughter (Source: wikipedia.org) "My smile is a rifle, won't you give it a try?" The first time I listened to Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T-Shirt was in the back of my family’s campervan parked in Calais after we’d just been robbed. I hadn’t listened to it – or any of Frusciante’s narcotic haze of nineties releases – since, preferring his more polished offerings of To Record Only Water for Ten Days and Shadows Collide With People , until my sister bought me a copy of Niandra Lades for my birthday. My main memories of the album were Frusciante’s wails making me jump as I tried to drift off with my headphones in. So, safe to say, I was a little apprehensive upon receiving this gift.      Although released in 1994, the first half of the album – Niandra Lades – was recorded prior to Frusciante’s departure from the Red Hot Chili Peppers during the recording of Blood Sugar Sex Magik at the allegedly haunted ...

Beats and Bombs: The Story of Belfast Rap

Rat Out Records' event at The Sunflower (Source: my own) Belfast is famous for many things – ships, conflict, Van Morrison – but not quite hip-hop. Unlike the other Irish cities which have spawned the likes of Dublin duo Versatile or Limerick’s The Rubberbandits , the subculture hasn’t gained the same notoriety and recognition in the North. As a genre created by African Americans in 1970s New York, it may be fairly easy to see why the Irish brand of rap hasn’t exactly had the same level of success. Despite this, Northern Ireland is by no means lacking in musical talent; the region has produced big names like The Undertones, Snow Patrol and Two Door Cinema Club. Even on a more grassroots level, the local indie rock and folk scenes in Belfast and Derry are booming. While it may seem that we prefer our music with a catchy chorus and three chords, Belfast’s underground rap scene is alive and kicking if you’re prepared to look for it. A simple Soundcloud or Bandcamp search ...

Book Review: Just Kids by Patti Smith

Title: Just Kids Author: Patti Smith Publisher: Bloomsbury (2010) ★★★★★ “No one expected me. Everything awaited me.” I almost always find that the best part of an autobiography is the beginning: the writer’s youth. Once they’re rich and famous, it’s not nearly as interesting a read. Strictly speaking, Just Kids isn’t an autobiography, it’s a memoir: “…a salute to New York City during the late sixties and seventies…a true fable…a portrait of two young artists’ ascent”. Although I am a fan, I knew very little about Patti Smith’s personal life, and the very fact that there is little mention of her music career somehow cements the book’s appeal for me. Just Kids details Smith’s love affair with photographer and fellow artist Robert Mapplethorpe during New York of the late sixties and early seventies: the time of Andy Warhol’s Factory stars and drag queens, musical revolution, psychedelia and, of course, drugs. A little like Morrissey’s autobiographical offering, Just Kids...