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THAT PROUD MOMENT OF EXISTENCE:
The Transcendental Pulp Fiction of Jean-Luc Godard
written by Matthew Clayfield
If the cinema has ever had a practitioner who has questioned, tested and experimented with the codes and conventions of traditionally popular genres – pushing them to their outermost limits and reworking both their formal and thematic functions – then there can be no denying that Jean-Luc Godard – the most radical filmmaker of the French New Wave – may very well be the most obvious name to put forward. Beginning with his debut feature, À Bout de souffle (1960), and ending – though this is undoubtedly a point of contention – with Pierrot le fou (1965), the first five years of Godard's filmmaking career were clearly marked by an investigation into and categorical reworking of the standard generic conventions that typified the epoch of classical Hollywood cinema. From the gangster film to the musical and from political thrillers to science-fiction flicks, none of the popular American genres [with the sole exception of the Western] went unscrutinised, untouched or [arguably] one-upped by Godard.
But though his films can certainly be seen as theoretical "essays" on these genres and their mechanics [an argument that Godard himself has made on more than one occasion], it is still important to note than there's far more to them than mere polemics. The early pictures of Godard's career were able to identify and adopt the codes and iconography of any given genre while simultaneously reworking or abandoning that genre's conventions – demythologising the genre and infusing it with something far more lasting and profound. As a result, Godard's films clearly privilege the externalities that typify each genre while greatly altering the narrative, thematic, formal and philosophical contexts within which they had previously been forced exist. This process, which can be seen at work in almost all of Godard's early work, does more than simply make us "perceive these traditional forms and images in a new way" (Cawelti, 1979, p. 511) [though it certainly does that too], but also gives Godard the chance to instil within these genres greater thematic substance and resonance than is evident in the B-pictures, melodramas and "pulp fiction" that he's so blatantly outwardly emulating. When one looks beyond the surface-layer of generic iconography and countless cinematic references that litter Godard's work, an advanced exploration of complex philosophies, themes and ideas begins to emerge, and in this respect his films ultimately ascend to a higher level of artistry than was, by and large [though not without exception], coming out of the Hollywood studio system in the years preceding the New Wave. It is ultimately in this way that the inverted genre films of Jean-Luc Godard are able to both transcend and surpass their generic and "pulp" origins.
The practical component of Godard's generic transformation is the identification and adoption of the codes and iconographic imagery of his chosen genre – the American gangster film in À Bout de souffle; the political thriller in Le Petit soldat (1960); the musical in Une femme est une femme (1961) and certain sequences of Pierrot le fou; or even [for want of an interesting generic hybrid] a combination of the hard-boiled detective and science-fiction genres in Alphaville, une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965; hereby known as Alphaville). As Bordwell and Thompson (2004) suggest, "a genre's iconography consists of recurring symbolic images that carry meaning from film to film" (p. 111) and part of Godard's genius is his ability to take these symbolic codes and images and "relocate" them to a far more unconventional cinematic space. Godard alters the narrative, formal and thematic contexts within which this generic iconography exists so that the genre's mechanics can be revealed to the audience and so that the inherent meaning of the iconography itself is altered – allowing for [and often prompting] the advanced thematic and philosophical discussion that takes place in Godard's pictures.
Though generic iconography is evident in the majority of Godard's early work, I would argue that it is in À Bout de souffle that it is at its most overwhelming and effective. Film critic David Sterrit (2001) notes that "[Godard] wants this movie to be different from any movie ever made before, but . . . knows that he's working with the same ingredients that filmmakers have been working with as long there has been cinema," and thus it's the altered context in which he places these "ingredients" – these representative generic symbols which range from Michel's trenchcoat and dark glasses to his misogyny and penchant for chain-smoking – that ultimately transforms their meaning for the audience and, along with them, the gangster genre itself. In À Bout de souffle, I would argue, it is Godard's radical focus on "dead time" [in which, narratively, nothing much happens] that is his most blatant alteration to the standard generic conventions of the typical American gangster film. The film's central scene, after all, is one in which absolutely nothing takes place and in which two characters sit and talk to one another about what are – narratively, at least – completely inconsequential matters. However, this defiance of generic convention on Godard's part ultimately reveals something far greater about his characters than the conventional narrative progression of more traditional Hollywood gangster films [which would have undoubtedly leapfrogged from one important event to the next] ever revealed about any of theirs. The fears, hang-ups and obsessions of Michel and Patricia are at their most clearly defined during these private moments, when they characters are not doing anything other than sitting around and killing time.
Thus, in abandoning the conventions of whichever genre he's examining, Godard is able to uncover moments of a far greater weight and importance than might otherwise be possible – truth, in the pictures of Godard, is to be found in the minor events of a character's day and not necessarily in the major ones – the "dead time" of our existence, after all, is ultimately "what life [itself] is made up of" (Sterrit, 2001).
For a more recent example of this same process at work, one need not look any further than Paul Thomas Anderson's Punch-Drunk Love (2002), which takes the codes and iconography of a standard Adam Sandler comedy [in itself a kind of sub-genre underneath the umbrella of "gross-out comedy"] and completely reworks the conventional context within which they appear. Sandler's man-child persona is – for what is perhaps the first time – revealed to the audience as being dangerously destructive, and although the film is also very funny, Anderson's transformation of the sub-genre allows [as does Godard's transformation of the gangster film in À Bout de souffle] more room for thematic, formal and philosophical exploration – exploration that, ultimately, allows Punch-Drunk Love to transcend its origins and Godard's "pulp fiction" to transcend its.
Godard's key thematic concerns, it should be noted, have always been very concrete and watertight [the complex existentialist questions posed by À Bout de souffle, for example, are really quite remarkable given the film's status as a first feature], but it is arguably in Alphaville that their synthesis with both Godard's personal style [particularly his construction of the mise-en-scéne] and his proclivity for generic examination and transformation is at its most profound.
In terms of generic iconography, Alphaville is truly exhaustive in its attention to detail. Eddie Constantine's Lemmy Caution is quite obviously a second-rate French cousin to the Sam Spade of Huston's The Maltese Falcon (1941); the contrast that exists between "the greyness of the streets [and] the blinding floodlights of the electronic nerve centres" (Raoud, 1972, p. 17) is very much that of low-budget science-fiction pictures in the vein of Siegel's The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956); and the gravely voice of Alpha 60 is not only suitably inhuman enough to be suggestive of 1950s robotic villainy, but also foreshadows the HAL 9000 of Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Godard's bizarre combination of two fairly dissimilar genres ultimately allows him to transcend them both at once, and as they proceed to cancel out one another's conventions, creating a sort of vacuum for him to fill, an incredibly complex work of art takes shape in the resultant void.
In altering the context within which Constantine's Lemmy appears [by relocating the generic codes of the detective film to the milieu of science-fiction], Godard is able to both examine and redefine the actor's screen persona [much in the same way that Anderson redefines Sandler in the aforementioned Punch-Drunk Love] while also making a comment on the nature of the hard-boiled detective as one of the genre's mythological character types. Lemmy Caution – on the surface, at least – might look a lot like The Maltese Falcon's Spade, but then it's also highly unlikely that the latter character ever read Éluard's Capitale de la Douleur. Lemmy's choice of reading material hints at a wiser and more thoughtful side to his character, and subsequently alters the ways in which we as an audience "read" him. His detachment is no longer necessarily a result of his being stereotypically hard-boiled, but may now be a result of his reluctance to get hurt by the picture's fittingly unconventional take on the femme fatale, Anna Karina's dehumanised [and delusional] Natacha Von Braun. Of course, the existence of the detective's softer side is an implicit convention of the genre, though Godard's explicit suggestion of it in Alphaville shows how he's reworking the generic context [much in the same way that the vulnerabilities of the gangster are never so explicitly expressed as they are in À Bout de souffle].
In this respect, the majority of Godard's inverted genre films are revealed to be examples of the third major mode of generic transformation: the use of traditional generic structures [or at least of generic codes and iconography] as a means of demythologisation. In breaking apart the hard-boiled detective genre and altering the inherent meanings of its iconographic codes, Godard is able to alter the way in which we approach and understand both the genre's standard character types and also the genre itself, demythologising the hard-boiled detective and the femme fatale in the same way that À Bout de souffle and Bande à part (1964) demythologise the gangster and his moll; Le Petit soldat demythologises the secret agent; and Les Carabineers (1963) demythologises war and films about it [perhaps even more ferociously in this final case than in any other of Godard's pictures].
This process of identifying and adopting generic codes and iconography; reworking or abandoning standard generation conventions; and demythologising genres and character types allows Godard's thematic and philosophical arguments to completely take over his pictures – his mode of generic transformation results in emotionally vulnerable, poetry-reading detectives; gangsters in the midst of existentialist identity crises; and secret agents who no longer believe in the causes that they're fighting for. They exist within a world that – as both character types and as human beings – they are not fully equipped to understand. After all, how can a hard-boiled detective function properly in a science-fiction movie? How can three bored kids on the verge of adulthood understand all there is to know about the mixed-up world of Bande à part? How do we, as human beings, function in a world that we cannot possibly begin to understand? These are the questions that – as a result of generic transformation and demythologisation – fuel the "pulp fiction" of Jean-Luc Godard, bringing to the surface that which is merely implicit in the B-grade genre films that have inspired him; presenting us with new questions, theories, forms and ideas; and ultimately – as a result of all this – allowing the films to ascend above and transcend beyond the "pulp fiction" that has preceded them.
Of course, it is also important to note the ramifications that Godard's generic transformation ultimately had upon cinema itself – ramifications that, even now, are still at play in the cinematic landscape. However, this is ultimately irrelevant to the argument at hand and can no doubt be discussed elsewhere and at a later date. Instead, my essay finishes here, as in pulp novel – at that proud moment of existence where nothing declines, nothing decays and nothing falls away.
REFERENCE LIST
- Bordwell, D. & Thompson, K. (2004) Film Art: An Introduction. 7th edition. McGraw-Hill, New York.
- Cawelti, J. (1979) "Chinatown and Generic Transformation". In: Mast, G. & Cohen, M. (eds) (1985) Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. 3rd edition. New York, Oxford University Press.
- Raoud, R. (1972) "Anguish: Alphaville". In: Godard, J. (1972) Alphaville. 3rd edition. Faber and Faber, London.
- Sterrit, D. (2001) DVD Commentary: À Bout de souffle. Fox Lorber.
- Bordwell, D. & Thompson, K. (2004) Film Art: An Introduction. 7th edition. McGraw-Hill, New York.
- Cawelti, J. (1979) "Chinatown and Generic Transformation". In: Mast, G. & Cohen, M. (eds) (1985) Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. 3rd edition. New York, Oxford University Press.
- Clover, J. (2003) "Get Your Madis On". Criterion Collection DVD Essay: Bande à part. Criterion Collection.
- Godard, J. (1962) "From Critic to Film-Maker: Jean-Luc Godard in Interview". Cahiers du cinéma 138. In: Hillier, J. (ed) (1986) Cahiers du cinéma: 1960 – 1968: New Wave, New Cinema, Reevaluating Hollywood. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.
- Godard, J. (1966) "Une Nouvelle Aventure de Lemmy Caution". In: Godard, J. (1972) Alphaville. 3rd edition. Faber and Faber, London.
- McCabe, C. (2003) [i]Godard: A Portrait of the Artist at Seventy[i]. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York.
- Marie, M. (1997) The French New Wave: An Artistic School. Trans. Neupert, R. (2003) Blackwell Publishers Ltd.
- Raoud, R. (1972) "Anguish: Alphaville". In: Godard, J. (1972) Alphaville. 3rd edition. Faber and Faber, London.
- Rohmer, E. (1965) "The Old and the New: Rohmer in Interview with Jean-Claude Biette, Jacques Bontemps, Jean-Louis Comolli". Cahiers du cinéma 172. In: Hillier, J. (ed) (1986) Cahiers du cinéma: 1960 – 1968: New Wave, New Cinema, Reevaluating Hollywood. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.
- Rosenbaum, J. (2003) "When is a Musical Not a Musical?". Chicago Reader. July
25, 2003. Retrieved on: July 22, 2004. Available online at: http://www.chireader.com/movies/arch...03/030725.html - Sarris, A. (1998) "Alphaville". Criterion Collection DVD Essay: Alphaville. Criterion Collection.
- Sterrit, D. (2001) DVD Commentary: À Bout de souffle. Fox Lorber.
- Sterrit, D. (2001) DVD Commentary: Les Carabiniers. Fox Lorber.
- Sterrit, D. (2001) DVD Commentary: Le Petit soldat. Fox Lorber.
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