The Silver Bullet
06-26-04, 08:37 AM
In Jean-Luc Godard's À bout de souffle (1960), the characters of Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) and Patricia (Jean Seberg) exist as part of a disjointed and ever-changing world, within which they unsuccessfully struggle to find meaning. Unable to understand their place within contemporary French society, Michel and Patricia resort to recreating and living the images that surround them in a futile attempt to find both themselves and one another. Godard's construction of the mis-en-scéne augments these fatal flaws in character, clearly demonstrating the importance of both image and iconography to modern man's notions of self, and the ramifications that such notions entail.
From the outset, it is quite obvious that Godard's primary interest is the behaviour of the "modern man" [he of the mid-20th Century], and the setting in which he chooses situate the events of the narrative is quite clearly a "modern" or "contemporary" one. On a more specific level, Godard is commenting on the "modern man" within contemporary French society, and the inclusion of numerous Parisian landmarks within the mis-en-scéne undoubtedly reflects this focus.
Wherever possible, Godard lights the film naturally, using both available and practical lighting sources as a way of suggesting – by way of an almost documentary-like visual style – a more truthful representation of reality. In this respect, lighting is intrinsically linked to Godard's use of setting within the mis-en-scéne, and two elements merge together to suggest that this is not the fictional Paris of a traditional movie, but the actual Paris of the real world as merely observed by a camera. The points that Godard makes, therefore, ultimately become more like arguments in an essay than like themes within a fictional narrative.
The most important aspects of Godard's mis-en-scéne, however, are the character themselves; both in terms of how they interact with and within the setting that's been created for them, and also in terms of how they dress. [Of course, though discussed in tandem here, acting and costume are ultimately two separate aspects of the mis-en-scéne.]
Michel is obviously a by-product of the movies that he's seen; he idolises the idea of Humphrey Bogart and emulates the star by dressing and behaving like the characters that "Bogie" plays. He smokes like a train; acts like a misogynist; and has even developed his own peculiar physical nuance, which is not at all unlike Bogart's "ear tug" in Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep (1946). Similarly, Patricia feels the need to compare herself to the girl in a Renoir painting – to whom she bears a more-than-striking resemblance; down, in fact, to the very angle of her head within Godard's frame. Interestingly, both the Renoir painting and Bogart himself actually exist as tangible elements within Godard's mis-en-scéne [the latter in the form of a photograph], implicitly suggesting – when considered in relation to the character's responses to them – the impact of one's environment [and more importantly, the images and iconography within that environment] upon the individual – especially the individual who is unsure of where he or she "fits".
Of course, in emulating the screen persona of a Hollywood actor and the exquisite beauty of an impressionist painting, Michel and Patricia do not find themselves or one another, but only emptiness; a greater sense of confusion; and death – both literal and otherwise. Michel, it should be noted, dies long before he gets shot.
Thus, in his deft construction of À bout de souffle's mis-en-scéne, Jean-Luc Godard is able to comment on the significance of both image and iconography to the modern man's notions of self, and the negative ramifications of this significance. What's more, he is able to do so in a way that allows his arguments – which are reinforced by the film's documentary-like realism – to be taken as though they were part of an anthropological study on the nature of "modern man," and not just as themes of an inventive – and endlessly thrilling – movie.
From the outset, it is quite obvious that Godard's primary interest is the behaviour of the "modern man" [he of the mid-20th Century], and the setting in which he chooses situate the events of the narrative is quite clearly a "modern" or "contemporary" one. On a more specific level, Godard is commenting on the "modern man" within contemporary French society, and the inclusion of numerous Parisian landmarks within the mis-en-scéne undoubtedly reflects this focus.
Wherever possible, Godard lights the film naturally, using both available and practical lighting sources as a way of suggesting – by way of an almost documentary-like visual style – a more truthful representation of reality. In this respect, lighting is intrinsically linked to Godard's use of setting within the mis-en-scéne, and two elements merge together to suggest that this is not the fictional Paris of a traditional movie, but the actual Paris of the real world as merely observed by a camera. The points that Godard makes, therefore, ultimately become more like arguments in an essay than like themes within a fictional narrative.
The most important aspects of Godard's mis-en-scéne, however, are the character themselves; both in terms of how they interact with and within the setting that's been created for them, and also in terms of how they dress. [Of course, though discussed in tandem here, acting and costume are ultimately two separate aspects of the mis-en-scéne.]
Michel is obviously a by-product of the movies that he's seen; he idolises the idea of Humphrey Bogart and emulates the star by dressing and behaving like the characters that "Bogie" plays. He smokes like a train; acts like a misogynist; and has even developed his own peculiar physical nuance, which is not at all unlike Bogart's "ear tug" in Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep (1946). Similarly, Patricia feels the need to compare herself to the girl in a Renoir painting – to whom she bears a more-than-striking resemblance; down, in fact, to the very angle of her head within Godard's frame. Interestingly, both the Renoir painting and Bogart himself actually exist as tangible elements within Godard's mis-en-scéne [the latter in the form of a photograph], implicitly suggesting – when considered in relation to the character's responses to them – the impact of one's environment [and more importantly, the images and iconography within that environment] upon the individual – especially the individual who is unsure of where he or she "fits".
Of course, in emulating the screen persona of a Hollywood actor and the exquisite beauty of an impressionist painting, Michel and Patricia do not find themselves or one another, but only emptiness; a greater sense of confusion; and death – both literal and otherwise. Michel, it should be noted, dies long before he gets shot.
Thus, in his deft construction of À bout de souffle's mis-en-scéne, Jean-Luc Godard is able to comment on the significance of both image and iconography to the modern man's notions of self, and the negative ramifications of this significance. What's more, he is able to do so in a way that allows his arguments – which are reinforced by the film's documentary-like realism – to be taken as though they were part of an anthropological study on the nature of "modern man," and not just as themes of an inventive – and endlessly thrilling – movie.