Film Review
Although it was originally conceived as a modest, low budget homage to
the American gangster film,
Pierrot
le fou quickly earned a reputation as one of the most important
films in French cinema and today is regarded as one of the most
revolutionary films ever to have been made.
It is a film that defies classification, is both loved and loathed by film
enthusiasts, and whose analysis has filled the pages of numerous
articles and books. At the Césars Awards ceremony in
1978,
Pierrot le fou came
sixth in a poll to nominate the best French film of all time, and it
has often appeared very high up in polls of the world's greatest
films. Just what is it about this cinematic oddity that has
earned it such distinction and notoriety?
At the time when it was first released, there had never been a film
like
Pierrot le fou -
certainly not one that had been made in France. The French New
Wave had been stirring things up for the past six or seven years,
bringing some new perspectives on cinema, but it wasn't until
Pierrot le fou leapt out onto an
unsuspecting public in 1965 that people began talking about a true
cinematic revolution. Jean-Luc Godard was the most radical and
adventurous of the French New Wave directors and with this film he
would begin a process of redefining the art and philosophy of cinema,
in a way that would fundamentally challenge the established cinematic
conventions and give a new creative impetus to filmmaking in the
Twentieth Century.
Pierrot le fou may be
termed a transitional film, since it contains elements of both Godard's
early, more traditional, phase and his later, more experimental
phase. The plot, whilst not easy to follow, is recognisably
a parody of an American gangster film, in a similar vein to
Alphaville,
the film which immediately preceded it. With its lush Techniscope
photography and sumptuous locations, the film has something of the
character of a lavish Hollywood production, particularly with
Antoine Duhamel's haunting score lending a touch of sinister Hitchcockian menace.
There are even two big name actors - Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina - who were both
guaranteed to draw a large audience. Yet
Pierrot le fou is anything but a
conventional film.
The thing that is most striking about
Pierrot
le fou is its apparent disjointedness. It feels like
Godard has taken the jump-cutting technique he used in his earlier film
À bout de souffle (1959)
up a few notches and has removed not just frames of film but entire
scenes. And, as if that wasn't enough, there are interspersed in
the main narrative static images of classical and pop art, in an
aggressive montage that emphasises the sense of confusion and
fragmentation. Godard seems to be employing every device he can to
prevent his audience from being drawn into the story. Indeed, his
intention is not to tell a story, in the conventional sense of the
word, but to convey impressions. His cinema is fundamentally
subjective, rather than objective, and knowing this fact is key to
appreciating his art.
Pierrot le fou deals with two
themes which recur again and again in Godard's films. The first
is the incompatability of the sexes: the inability of men and women
to communicate without throwing bits of furniture at one another.
Often, Godard's male and female characters appear to have come from two
completely different universes, drawn together by some inexplicable
biological imperative, but totally incapable of having an harmonious
relationship. The two characters in this film are an
extreme case. Ferdinand is an idealist, an intellectual, who loves
abstract notions and has no time with the banalities of life.
Marianne, by contrast, is down-to-earth, uneducated, a woman governed
by caprice, who only loves the things that she can perceive with her
five senses. Ferdinand lives in the clouds; Marianne wallows in
the mud. It's hard to overlook the auto-biographical subtext in all
this, particularly as Marianne was played by Godard's increasingly
estranged wife, Anna Karina.
The film's second dominant theme is one that impinges on virtually all
of Godard's films: existentialism. By running off with Marianne, Ferdinand is seeking to
affirm the control that he has over his life. The central tenet
of existentialist philosophy is that a man can never say he is truly
free unless he knows that he is capable of killing himself. To
Ferdinand, Marianne represents far more than an amorous adventure; she
is the living manifestation of the death he knows awaits him.
Like the Greek poet Orpheus, he has fallen in love with the idea of
death. It is no accident that Ferdinand paints his face blue
before killing himself. In the French tricoleur, blue is associated with
liberté. Blue is the colour of freedom.
The way in which
Pierrot le fou
is shot and edited - fragmented, luxuriant, chaotic, contradictory -
reflects the collaged, primary-coloured world as Ferdinand sees it as
he teeters on the brink of insanity, his sense of identity
crumbling to dust. We are reminded of the
hero's experiences in Jean-Paul Sartre's existentialist novel
Nausea. Indeed, the film
itself may be considered an act of existentialist bravado. By
dispensing with the old notions of filmmaking and trying something
radically different, Godard was able to prove to himself that he is
free, that his work is the product of his own creative decisions.
Of course, having crossed this particular Rubicon, there was no way
back, and Jean-Luc Godard's films could only get wilder and weirder as
his career progressed...
© James Travers 2008
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Next Jean-Luc Godard film:
Made in U.S.A. (1966)