DORT ON BRECHT/GODARD AND BRECHT

Written in 1960 and published in the Cahiers du Cinéma, Bernard Dort's text "Towards a Brechtian criticism of Cinema" exposes the Brechtian methods, aims and structures in theater and how those can be looked at in cinema, though Dort says that Brechtianism "rejects and strongly refuses all relation with the cinema in its open claim to be specifically and exclusively theatrical." Though it is specifically theatrical, since Brecht focused on theater, Brechtianism does not exclude cinema per se, and Godard proves it. Brecht's aesthetic is based on the involvement of the viewer in the story to make him an active member of the spectacle. Indeed, rather than implicating the spectator in a piece, Brecht's epic theater turns the spectator into an observer, an active thinker, by creating a distanciation or alienation effect ("Verfremdungseffekt").

Moreover, "the audience should never forget it is at the theater" and will therefore study what it is seeing and instead of being involved in something, it is made to face something of a social and political nature. Brechtian methods remind the spectator that this is a spectacle, would make sources of light visible by the audience, have billboards to indicate the time and place or to summarize action.

Brechtian theories which seem to deny cinema, actually reject its continuity and the viewer's identification with a character, which lead the viewer to become a passive watcher of the action.

Therefore, because of that, one can say that it excludes cinema. But how can a film still be considered Brechtian since in its nature cinema can seem contradictory to the Brechtian philosophy? Can a film not exist as an autonomous language?

Any film author can choose what he wants to deal with in a movie, and it can deal with its own process, a part of alienation coming from Brecht - cinema can chose to reflect cinema and remind the viewer that this is a film we are watching.

In accordance with this perspective, elements of Brechtianism can be found in many of Godard's films, whether it be in "Le Mépris" which deals with the making of a film (film inside a film, "metafilm"). In fact, the credit sequence is given in a voice-over in the opening scene and in the first scene we see a camera filming.

Le Mépris — Opening Scene

Le Mépris — Shooting scene

Another example would be "Week End" where the actors actually comment on the film, such as Roland: "What a rotten film. All we meet are crazy people." The intertitles offer a running commentary on the action: “A film adrift in the cosmos’’ — “A film found on a dump’’—“The Lewis Carroll Way’’—“From French Revolution to Gaullist weekends: freedom is violence.’

In his essay, Dort suggests when giving the example of Dudow's 1932 "Kuhle Wampe" that a modern viewer wouldn't grasp the message conveyed in the film since it doesn't know the German political and historical references that appear throughout the film.

However, Godard does give us the information necessary to understand the location and time the film is taking place in, though the questions it asks remain timeless in certain cases like in "Vivre Sa Vie".

The most obvious Brechtian element would be the fact that it is divided into twelve parts -"tableaux" - each chapter having a title and a small resume of what is to come, but also like as a commentary of what is to come.

Vivre Sa Vie — First three tableaux

Also, the music used throughout the film is more of a commentary to the film itself and what is happening in the film rather than music "simply" appearing at the peak moments of sadness, to make sure that the audience understands "this is a sad moment", like in most films.

The fact that the music keeps repeating itself also comments on the lack of free will of Nana's character. The movie is divided into tableaux, which breaks with the continuity of film, as we are reminded that it is a film we are watching. Godard also said "“Why twelve, I donʼt know; but in tableaux to emphasize the theatrical, Brechtian side", clearly an strong influence in his films.

Godard, Godot and Good God

In my recent readings on editing I came across a curious commentary on fiction vs. documentary. One of the editors described a construct of fiction as a traditional-three act one, first, having to build a suspense to later resolve it, whereas a documentary as a structure where the conflict is revealed at the very beginning and the drama lies in the detailed depiction/explanation of the problem. Although simplistic, this type of genre definition suggests an interesting perspective and serves the purpose in that Godard's narrative construct more often reminds me of documentary than fiction. Godard's films come as a socio-political commentary of his times. The questions he chooses to address are introduced right at the start, they become the core principle, the situation, the conditions that persist never being fully resolved: Godard introduces the problem, then contemplates it in detail through the actions of his characters, which in turn give us insight into their inner motivations, their inner struggle (interior through exterior), and that very struggle will continue through the remainder of the film.


In Le Mépris, a couple grows contemptuous towards one another. We, as audience, know the relationship is over: we do not expect them to finally overcome the situation, but maybe to find out how they came to it, what is it that makes it impossible to continue, will they try to change it and why? It turns out Michel Piccoli's character compromises his art and suffers because of it. It is all, he says, in order to satisfy the needs of his partner played by Brigitte Bardot. She, in turn, detests his attitudes towards his craft and towards her, yet finds herself to be completely dependent. Although both characters are aware of their condition, they are incapable to resolve it. It seemed to me as if each were setting up situations to test each others patience as to not be the one to cause the change, to avoid being held responsible. That inability to take responsibility for one's live is where the drama and the tragedy of their characters lie. And although Bardot's character finally makes a move for change and leaves with the producer, she is not entirely liberated, she falls into somebody else's hands, and finally dies in an accident. The circumstances we find ourselves in are overpowering, the hope for a better life is empowering, and the time is limited.


Godard continues to raise questions in a similar manner in Vivre Sa Vie. Except that Nana, the protagonist, is in many ways a more empowered character. She is introduced as already looking for a solution to her dissatisfaction: she is separated from her husband and her child in hopes to live a more fulfilling life, to become an actress. That hope once again is a driving force. Initially Nana is waiting for that change passively, she is looking for a positive sign, for the right person to notice her. The scene in the record store speaks for itself: Nana is utterly bored, her effort to be self-sustained is not paying off, she is broke, yet still hopeful, still waiting, as if for Beckett's Godot.


"Why are we here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.
We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. . .In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!
Let us not waste our time in idle discourse!"
(from Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett)


Not being able to pay her rent, Nana becomes a prostitute and soon finds herself dependent on her pimp. We realise the contradictions in her condition: in her effort to be free, she is not capable to self-sustain in the existing socio-economic system. Yet she is willing to pay the price. "I believe we're always responsible for what we do, and free. I raise my hand, I'm responsible. I turn my head to the right, I'm responsible. I'm unhappy, I'm responsible. I smoke a cigarette, I'm responsible. I close my eyes, I'm responsible. I may forget that I am responsible, but I am..." She takes responsibility for her life not because she does not understand the relative absurdity of her effort to live authentically under conditions that predetermine her choices, but because she believes in commitment to live a conscious, authentic life despite it. Like in the Myth of Sisyphus, Nana continues to live following her conviction, as we continue to watch Godard's films knowingly there is no full resolution to the problem of human condition. What makes it worthwhile/bearable is being aware of it.


To continue contemplating on the subjects of existentialism, absurd, the theater of the absurd, distantation, female protagonists, film and poetry, poetry in film, fiction vs. documentary, I am including a clip from Rockaby, one of Beckett's plays on film, I believe shot in the 1980s during rehearsals by D. A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus.





AJ

Godard the Poet

Similar to the thrill one feels while listening to a jazz musician weave together the many sounds and emotions at their disposal, so too does the viewer feel a thrill observing the myriad ways that Godard intertwines text, image, sound, and movement.  As Ian described in his post on Godard and Jazz, there is a certain element of “riffing” undertaken in Godard films which can also be likened to the idea of free writing or stream of consciousness poetry.  Sam mentioned in a previous post that “Godard believes in the necessity of poetry” and his efforts to create poems in his work whether through image, voice, and/or editing are apparent in all of his projects. 


I would also point out that Godard’s desire for poetry, his affinity for aesthetic pleasure and beauty cannot be separated from his efforts to incorporate social, political, and cultural commentary into his films.   In this sense, Godard’s work calls to mind the Epic Theatre, as envisioned by Brecht, that does not allow the audience to forget their surroundings or to get sucked into the cinematic charm (“engendering of illusion”) that renders us passive readers of images on a screen.  Godard lures the viewer in with lyrical and visual poetry and then spits us back out so we do not forget what it is that we are watching, what we are thinking, what we are doing, how we are living, and how our actions affect those individuals and institutions around us.






This clip from Masculin Feminin first lures the viewer in with a beautiful young woman talking about how lucky she is to be Miss 19. The viewer is charmed momentarily by her smile, her laugh, her modesty, her body framed in the window. But Godard brings us out of our visual enjoyment of Miss 19 through pointed questions about politics, war, society, and birth control.  Even the way in which Paul is asking questions are jarring to both the audience as well as Miss 19.



Then we have the opening five minutes of Contempt. It begins with a beautiful wide shot and an epic soundtrack but we are immediately grounded in the fact that we are watching a movie, a production, with actors, cameras, and sound operators. The credits inform the viewer of this reality as well as the fact that the wide shot includes a camera crew that is shooting a tracking shot within the frame. As we move on to the love scene we are still charmed by the music, the shot, the intimacy of the two characters and especially what they're saying to each other. Yet, Godard gently reminds the viewer that this too is cinema, this too is an illusion by changing the color filters over the lens.



This is the trailer that Sam posted of Godard's Film Socialisme.  I really loved this trailer and I found myself totally enthralled by the images in fast forward. However, Godard's use of titles as well as the dramatic music changes kept me attentive and aware of what I was watching as well as wondering about the purpose of each image, location, and the music choices.


True to a poets love and fascination with the world, Godard shares his pleasures and reflections on life with the audience through his choice of beautiful women, imagery, music and quotes. However, Godard does not let himself, nor the viewer get caught up in pure aesthetic enjoyment.  Godard's is an arresting kind of poetry, just as you feel you are falling into a rhythm, or start losing yourself in a shot, with Brechtian artistic purpose he brings us back to reality, back to politics, back to reflecting on our surroundings.


-A.B.

Le Mépris and Authorship

Le Mépris is a good work to use as a test case for auteur theory (la politique des auteurs) and Astruc’s la caméra-stylo. Although it is not the only film directed by Godard with a literary source, it is the one that stays closest to its source material, a novel by Alberto Moravia (Il Disprezzo). Yet, it is hard for me to imagine anyone who has read the book, as I have, and seen the film to claim that the “author” of Le Mépris is Moravia. Il Disprezzo is a work by Moravia, and Le Mépris is a work by Godard. Here I would repeat the comment made by the ex-Surrealist poet Louis Aragon about the film at the time of its release: “I’ve seen [the] novel of today. At the cinema … It’s called Contempt, the novelist is someone named Godard” (qt. in Richard Brody, Everything is Cinema, p. 172). At the same time, what is fascinating is that while the author of the film is undoubtedly Godard, Godard himself acknowledges and explores his works relation to a whole series of other texts, including, of course, the novel upon which it is based. Is this because – as a postmodernist might say – there is no originality, everything has already been said, everything has already been done, et al.? I would say "no", and precisely because Le Mépris, for all its intertextual references, is original – and retains this originality nearly fifty years after its initial release. (The film's exploration of quotation and translation – of quotation as translation – is uniquely Godardian. This doesn't mean it can't be imitated, but the imitation remains precisely that: Godard without Godard.) Godard’s use of citation and allusion is not an acknowledgment that the expressive potential of art has been exhausted; instead, his citations and allusions affirm the enduring power of art, always waiting another chance to provoke, to excite, to disturb. As Leo Bersani and Ulysse Dutoit observe, “Godard quotes inordinately in his films – through passages projected onto the screen, or through characters who recite bits of literary texts, or directly from books.” And this citational practice works to liberate the texts that he quotes, allowing them to remain in process or in movement. “By citationally picking at literature, he de-monumentalizes it, therefore resurrecting it from the death of finished being, and allows it to circulate – unfinished, always being made – within the open time of film” (Forms of Being, p. 65). Unfinished, always being made, open: all keys to Godard’s particular form of art. All characteristics that we can attribute to the author referred to as "Godard" – a figure who doesn't precede or transcend his art works but who emerges, comes into being, alongside them. (And, if any reminder is necessary, all characteristics described by Eco in "Poetics of the Open Work.")

S I-G