Rating:
by Derek Smith 11/21/04
For all its
similarities to Nouvelle
Vague – the focus on the importance of memory and history in
shaping our
present and the detrimental effects of the State and capitalism in
reshaping,
and thus controlling, history – Godard’s 2001 film, Eloge de L’Amour
is
a more difficult film to defend from a humanist perspective. The
ponderous, theoretical nature is replaced by a more derisive voice that
is not
often found in his most recent films. Much has been made of his
direct
attacks on Steven Spielberg and Hollywood
in this film, but although it is clear Godard holds much contempt for
Spielberg
as an artist, specifically Schindler’s List and the recreation
of Auschwitz
which he saw as inaccurate and disrespectful. This animus springs
from
Godard’s keen analysis of how Spielberg distorts history. The
bitter
anti-Americanism that surfaces throughout occasionally dominates the
film to
the point of ennui, but the film touches on so many themes and topics
that this
minor flaw is easy to forgive.
The
film is divided into two parts
– the first, shot in glorious black-and-white, takes place in the
present while
the second, shot in color, takes place two years prior. At the
beginning,
Edgar, the main character who is an obvious reincarnation of the
younger and
more optimistic, but naïve Godard of the 1960s, is working on a
project about
the four stages of love – the initial meeting, physical passion,
separation,
and reconciliation – during youth, adulthood, and old age. Unsure
which
medium is proper, he is in limbo, reading from a book with no words and
trying
to cast actors for an artistic piece that he is not entirely confident
in. It is clear that Edgar, and Godard, are attempting to achieve
something honest and true with their work. In a particularly
brilliant
scene near the beginning, Edgar talks to a homeless man and asks him if
he ever
cries. The man responds, “At first glance, I can see why children
cry.” Godard quickly cuts to a shot of a child crying as a moving
attempt
to show the sincerity of his imagery.
Although
this is slightly more
plot-driven than his other recent films, it unfolds in a montage of
images
rather than a dramatic narrative. The melancholy images (from the
intense
close-ups of the characters struggling to cope with their situations,
to a dreary,
contemporary Paris,
to shots of the ocean) mirror Edgar’s inability to get his project
underway and
Godard’s own discontent about the failures of his own career. One
of the
major themes is introduced during an interview with an actress where
she says
that “moving forward is a rejection of your former self. The
plans of
others reject time and create a strong bond with the past. Older
people
don’t move on because it is a rejection of their former self.” As
a
character remarks, Edgar is the only one who’s trying to become an
adult and
his valiant attempt is ironically mirrored in Godard’s humble admission
that in
his old age, he is left only to gaze at the past, unable to move
forward and
left only with the regrets of his youth. The idea that youth and
old age
are recognizable (from a physical and philosophical perspective) and
easy to
achieve with little effort while adulthood, or fully-realized maturity,
is more
elusive since few people are courageous enough to reach their
potential, is
repeated throughout the course of the film. Despite Edgar’s
courageous
efforts, he is unable to achieve what he set out to do and inevitably
bound to
make the jump from childhood to old age without ever becoming an adult.
The choice
to shoot the first part
of the film (the present) in black & white and the second part of
the film
(the past) in vibrant, saturated color is much more than an attempt to
point
out Spielberg’s and Hollywood’s blatant and dangerous manipulation of
historical catastrophes, such as World War II and the Vietnam War, in
their
films. Although much is made of America’s
capitalization of art and distortion of history, this technique
demonstrates a
much broader aspect of the Godardian philosophy in Eloge de L’Amour.
The present is seen as a place devoid of and uninterested in
creativity; Edgar
is unable to achieve the lofty goals of his project because the world
around
him simply doesn’t care. Like the world of Nouvelle Vague,
art is
a commodity to be bought and sold-hence the demonic threat of Hollywood
and America.
Perhaps Godard’s most poignant statement on this matter is uttered by
one of
Edgar’s co-workers – “The State cannot embrace the world in its
totality.
The nature of the state is self-serving and negates love.” Love,
in
Godard’s case, is indistinguishable from cinema and thus he sees the
growing
capitalist machine as a threat to both.
Shot in
super-saturated, vibrant
color, the final two-thirds of Eloge de L’Amour visually
resembles a
dream. Whereas most filmmakers see the past as something dead and
gone,
it is very much alive for Godard and understanding it in both its
proper
personal and historical context is the only way to break the vicious
cycle of
human tragedy. The second part of the film sees Edgar two years
earlier
as he begins work on his project. He meets a young woman, Elle
(who’s
death in the first part marks the death of his project), and her
grandparents
who were involved in the French Revolution. Hollywood
executives are purchasing their story, casting Juliette Binoche who has
just
won an Oscar, and inserting unnecessary scenes of nudity. This is
the
most blatantly anti-American content and the only segment where a trace
of
bitterness can be found. In the context provided us, it is clear
that
Godard is presenting this as an example of a larger problem – our
inability to
come to terms with the reality of our past without identifying with
distorted
versions that exist only to placate us.
Despite the
sometimes vicious and
heavily satiric tones, Godard’s messages ultimately call for embracing
truth
and treating our fellow man with honor and respect, not as objects or
commodities that exist solely for personal gain. The highly
personal and
humble tone of Eloge de L’Amour says much about Godard’s
expanding world
view, in both his understanding of his own place in cinema’s history
and
history’s impact on the present. That he sees much of his career
as a
failure is saddening to any fan of his work, since he takes on himself
much of
the blame for cinema’s inability to confront the past honestly and
avoid the
rampant expansion of capitalism that other art forms have been slightly
more
successful in evading. Eloge’s humility alone, however,
is not
what makes it a remarkable piece of humanistic art. The film
deals with a
love that is all-encompassing – the love between a man and woman, the
love of
philosophy, the love of cinema and potential it still holds, and the
love of
truth are all presented as a common denominator in the human
experience.
For once, Godard is addressing his audience on an intellectual and
emotional
level and bringing the cycle of ideas present in his work of the past
35 years
into one work and one cohesive statement. This is not to say that
Eloge
de L’Amour is the summation of his career or can replace all his
films
before it (that would be far too much to ask of one artist’s career,
let alone
a single film), but the abstractness of the work no longer distances
the
viewer, but attempts to put them on the same wavelength as its
creator.
In the cinema of Jean-Luc Godard, what could be more humanistic?
Cinematic
Reflections