Band of Outsiders (1964)

It's strange, but until watching BAND OF OUTSIDERS last night, my only exposure to Jean-Luc Godard was BREATHLESS (reviewed here), which kicked off Celluloid Moon's quasi "launch" back in January. Kind of a long wait between films, especially after the wonderful taste BREATHLESS left in my mouth, but that wait may have made my feelings toward BAND OF OUTSIDERS a little sweeter than they would have been otherwise.

Coming four years after his debut, and off of his first real flop (LES CARABINIERS), BAND OF OUTSIDERS feels like the younger, more accessible brother to BREATHLESS - an exuberant movie about youth and crime, embracing everything Godard loves about the classic American cinema of the 30s and 40s while at the same time continuing the cues and tricks that signalled the French New Wave was not a flash in the pan movement. The "jump-cutting" isn't the presence it was in his debut (I'm hard pressed now, only a day later, to recall any in fact), but Godard, again relying on cinematographer Raoul Coutard to shoot in a lovely, natural documentary feel, inserts his references in other, oftentimes more subtle ways. Lines of dialog, characters names, even the credits are lovingly crafted from his influences and friends at the time.

Godard's "outsiders" are Franz, Arthur, and the beautiful innocent Odile, who all meet in an English Language class. Franz and Arthur are two sides of the same coin: Franz is always thinking, always looking inward and debating, while for Arthur there is only the moment, the black and white of his wants and desires. They dream of the outlaw life: would-be gangsters on the lookout for a big score, mimicking the gunfights of Billy the Kids and wanting to go away to someplace, anyplace more exotic than where they are now. Odile, played by Godard's wife Anna Karina, is the shy flower, living with her aunt and a lodger, Mr. Stolz. She's the image of young beauty, trying to prove she's worldly and knowledgeable even as she betrays her naivete when asked to show that she knows how to kiss:

The basic plot is that these three come together when Odile lets slip that the lodger who stays with her and her aunt, a Mr, Stolz, has a bureau filled with money. Arthur is determined to steal the money with Franz and Odile's help. Things get complicated as Odile begins to regret throwing her lot in with Arthur, and the film moves along to its perhaps inevitable conclusion with a shootout, the band torn apart, and the inklings of a new life and a continuing story. But simply following the plot isn't what Godard intended, and indeed BAND OF OUTSIDERS works best as a series of wonderful diversions, rather than anything so serious as a crime film. So much of it has become the stuff of film legend, starting with the "Madison" sequence, which starts with the "Moment of Silence" - the sound is completely cut off as the three attempt (unsuccessfully, it turns out) to observe a moment of silence. But then we get to the famous dance sequence, where the entire world seems to stop as Odile, Franz and Arthur dance:

The music swells and cuts as the narrator (Godard) provides insight into the heart of each person. It's a lovely scene, at odds with what we think the movie's supposed to be about: why would three would-be thieves stop to dance? Ask Quentin Tarantino, who does the same thing in PULP FICTION and whose production company is called Band Apart which, incidentally, is the French title (spelled slightly different) for BAND OF OUSIDERS.¹

And then there's the run through the Louvre. I think this moment, more than the Madison sequence, speaks to the unrestrained joy that Godard and others in the French New Wave were able to capture so delicately, timeless no matter when you see it:

Looking through the scenes again, I can't help but again comment on how spectacular BAND OF OUTSIDERS looks. Shooting on location, Coutard manages to convey a look that is both immediate in its realism and still maintain a sense of the unreal that lets you slip away into the fiction of the story. It's a aesthetic shared by his contemporaries, and it never fails to fill me with wonder whenever I see it done with this level of care and craft, like in BREATHLESS, and the films of Françios Truffaut and, over on our side of the pond, Nicholas Ray.

It may not have the impact and sense of importance that its older brother does, but BAND OF OUTSIDERS is still a treasure of a film, taken on whatever level you wish to bring to it. Criterion's release is excellent (as expected), and if you have a chance to watch it be sure to also check out the visual glossary, which goes through the film scene by scene, commenting on the various inside references and jokes Godard made a habit of inserting in his films.

I have an inkling my next Godard film is going to come a lot quicker than eight months...

¹ I realize full well that the above has been a well-known fact for years. But since I only saw the film last night, and didn't know anything else about it, it was fresh and exciting to make that discovery. One of the benefits of being kept in the dark about certain films for whatever reason, I guess.

Movie #1: Breathless (1959)

BREATHLESS may not have been the movie to "officially" kick off the French New Wave, but after its release there was little doubt it would be the standard bearer for the movement. Written and directed by Jean-Luc Godard based off a treatment by Francois Truffaut, BREATHLESS leaps off the screen and tears into its story with a youthful exuberance that embraces its roots in American genre films while gleefully tearing apart the staid tenets of how those films are structured.

This was my introduction to Godard, and watching it for the first time I was amazed at how fresh and exciting it feels almost 50 years after its initial release. Roger Ebert hails it as the beginning of the modern movie, and the most influential debut since Orson Welles and CITIZEN KANE, and it's hard not to think the same. The story centers on Michel, a small time gangster who idolizes Humphrey Bogart and the materialistic freedoms of America - the cars, the movies, and the women. BREATHLESS opens with Michel nonchalantly stealing a car, and as he tears through the countryside Godard demonstrates what makes this a "modern" movie - Michel's mouth motors as quick as his car, and as he goes from topic to topic Godard's "jump cutting" technique is introduced - the editing almost seems to stutter, catching the dialog just after it begin only to clip just before it ends. The technique forces the viewer to become a participant in the conversation, desperately trying to keep up with what Michel is saying - a hopeless cause. For a brief moment he even turns to the camera, breaking the fourth wall and even more directly drawing the viewer into his world before he's off again, daring us to catch up. Soon he's stopped by the police and, having found a gun in the glove compartment, suddenly kills the patrolman in what looks to be a quick, gut reaction to getting caught. This sets up the rest of the story as Michel attempts to collect enough money to leave the country with Patricia, an American girl he fancies after a brief fling some time before.

But while the actual plot points of BREATHLESS are ripped directly from the Western gangster films of the 40s and 50s, the execution of the plot is anything but a retread. The editing is wonder at both ends of the spectrum - the jump cutting is continuously used to great effect, acting as a visual companion to the pace and tone of Michel's comments and eyeline. During a cab ride he tells Patricia how beautiful she is; the editing not only clips the dialog into brief, aural impressions but visually accents her face, her neck, wherever his eyes roam.

But what also stands out are the long, uninterrupted takes that echo the languid, bored moods of Michel and Patricia, especially in one particular scene up in her apartment. Michel spends the majority of the time trying to convince Patricia to sleep with him, but the movement and pacing betrays his boredom by not cutting away and focusing on his slow body movements and the endless little bits of distractions between them. The lighting is mostly natural, sunlight filtering through cigarette smoke in a haze that further enhances the feeling of emptiness insider the characters.

BREATHLESS also plays with unconventional methods of communicating the story. Michel walks down a street and the camera lingers on a passing sign that reads, "Live Dangerously Until the End!" Rather than show the police closing in on Michel, Godard uses newspapers and scrolling marquee signs flashing bulletins as Michel coincidentally drives by to signal their progress. And in perhaps the most ironic moment of the movie, a passerby who recognizes Michel and points him out to police is none other than Godard himself, thus directing the course of the film simultaneously in front of and behind the camera.

Would this movie have worked with different actors? It's hard to say, because what Jean-Paul Belmondo brings to Michel is an oddball electricity that would be hard to replace. Big, pouty lips and a broad nose, up close he looks far from the typical matinee idol, but his lithe movements and boundless charm make it easy to understand why he was a top drawer in France for so many years. His Michel is all sheen and bravado up front with a frightened kid just below the skin, and nowhere after the first five minutes of the film is it believed he's as tough as he claims to be. Even his tough guy actions - the initial murder, the muggings and bullying threats, betray a scared indecision, a life purposely without direction.

And the first moment Jean Seberg appears on-screen, walking up and down the street selling newspapers with her New York Herald t-shirt, it's impossible to look away. She's gorgeous and enigmatic and in her own way just as empty inside as Michel. There's a weird detachment to her actions and words that speaks to a coldness Michel never recognizes until it's too late. She announces she's pregnant, but the way she says it feels clinical, as if looking for a reaction from Michel. Is it true? She speaks to a friend and potential lover earlier where her condition is perhaps obliquely referenced, but that may have been a lie as well. Later, she coldly manipulates Michel's capture because, her thinking goes, if she can do something bad to him, it proves that she doesn't really love him. This sets up the wonderfully iconic ending, and one of the best last lines in movies, as Michel meets his end and maybe gets a glimpse of reality before the movie ends.

All together, BREATHLESS works to create a fresh and clear starting line for many of the things taken for granted on modern films. It celebrates American cinema even as it makes a case for the new wave of French cinema. The plot, characters, and style all coalesce into something where, for once, the reputation is less than adequate.