BFI Top 50: Psycho, Released in 1960, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock

What I know before going in

This will be my third time watching the film. It is one of my favorites.

Immediate Reaction

I think the most striking, and horrifying, aspect of Psycho is the fact that no one in the film realizes they are in a horror movie. The movie doesn’t even really reveal itself to be a horror film until the infamous shower scene. Up until that point, the film could easily pass as another entry in the crime or noir genre. Even after the shower scene, the full madness of Norman Bates isn’t apparent until the very end. The characters who become involved with Marion’s flight don’t know the dark secret lurking within the Bates Motel. Arbogast assumes he is just dealing with a standard robbery case. When Sam Loomis and Lila Crane head to the motel after becoming suspicious of Arbogast’s absence, they assume that Bates simply wanted the money Marion stole to open another motel somewhere else. Again, the fact that all parties are wrong, and the reality is so much more disturbing, is Psycho’s masterstroke.

I recently watched The Silence of the Lambs, and a big theme of that movie is how even without the presence of Hannibal the Cannibal and Buffalo Bill, the world is an awful place for women and is primarily dominated by men. That theme is quickly established when Clarice walks into the FBI headquarters and is immediately surrounded completely by men who are a good foot taller than her. I think Psycho explores a similar theme, just in subtler way. When Marion interacts with her client, the camera is positioned in such a way to make him seem totally dominate over Marion. A similar effect is employed when she is stopped by the Police Officer, and later when she enters Norman’s parlor and is surrounded by dead birds. In addition, there is a shot where standing imposingly above Lila’s heads, if you squint your eyes, it would look like several falcons are attacking her. Norman also uses a peep hole to look at her. He literally frames her when she is at her must vulnerable (right after she has decided to return the money and is undressing). I would like to think that this is a subtle critique of the way women are objectified on film, further evidenced by the camera’s slow zoom in and peak-through on Marion and Sam’s lunchtime tryst.

Like the best Noir films, Psycho also makes excellent use of shadow. There is of course the shower scene, where Marion’s appears almost totally in shadow, making him seem like some otherworldly phantom. Also, during the scene where Arbogast leaves the motel and when Sam Loomis goes there alone, Norman’s face is shadowed to make him look most sinister. The ending seems almost playful in its use of light and shadow. Lila hits a single lightbulb with her hand when she discover Norma’s corpse, the swinging bulb makes Norman’s attack even more creepy.

Further Thoughts

When someone is asked “If you had access to a time machine, what event would you go back and witness?” common answers are the Kennedy assassination, the writing of the Declaration of Independence, or some other important historical event. My answer would be “the premiere of Psycho.” At this point, we are pretty much born into this world knowing the twist of Psycho. I would give anything to go back and time and just observe people freaking out while watching the film. Not only did Psycho break all narrative conventions by killing Marion off halfway through the film, but if flew in the face of existing taboos regarding sex and violence. I am actually still a little shocked at the beginning of Psycho, due to its sexual explicitness and my association of black and white with older films. Both the leads are half-naked, and rolling around in a bed, so there is no way they didn’t just finish having sex, and to further turn the screw on conservatives, Hitchcock makes sure you know that not only are the pair not married, but Sam is divorced.

Of course, I have to talk about the shower sequence, but I’ll do my best to provide a new twist. If you really analyze it the sequence, there really isn’t anything shocking about it. You never actually see the knife enter Marion’s body. However, the shot is edited in such a staccato, impressionistic way that your mind naturally fills in whatever shots would be missing. It starts off by the killer pulling the curtain back, Marion screaming, and then a close-up of her mouth. Next, the sequence moves into the same basic repetition. We get a shot of the killer pulling back the knife to strike Marion, and then shot of her reaction to each stab. The camera basically goes from the knife to Marion’s body, which seems like a pretty logical way to shoot such a scene. However, few films seem to go for that effect. The only recent film I can think is The Grandmaster, which uses a similar technique to follow body parts as they rear back and then hit other people or objects. The key to the shower scene is its rapid nature and Bernard Hermann’s score. Both combine to create a disorienting effect, mirroring the death throes that Marion is going through.

Of course, the stabbing is followed by one of the greatest edits in film history, from the slow pan-in of Marion’s blood going down the bathtub drain to the swirling pan-out of her pupil as her life leaves her body.

I’ll just briefly copy a quote from Roger Ebert’s review, which I think better gets at what I was describing about no one the film knowing what is going on.

The death of the heroine is followed by Norman's meticulous mopping-up of the death scene. Hitchcock is insidiously substituting protagonists. Marion is dead, but now (not consciously but in a deeper place) we identify with Norman--not because we could stab someone, but because, if we did, we would be consumed by fear and guilt, as he is. The sequence ends with the masterful shot of Bates pushing Marion's car (containing her body and the cash) into a swamp. The car sinks, then pauses. Norman watches intently. The car finally disappears under the surface.

Analyzing our feelings, we realize we wanted that car to sink, as much as Norman did. Before Sam Loomis reappears, teamed up with Marion's sister Lila (Vera Miles) to search for her, "Psycho" already has a new protagonist: Norman Bates. This is one of the most audacious substitutions in Hitchcock's long practice of leading and manipulating us.

For a few brief moments, Hitchcock forces us to not only become complicit in a killer’s murderous spree, but worry about him being caught as well.

Why is the film on the list?

Psycho managed to break narrative and societal taboos will delivering some of the most purely enthralling sequences in cinema history.

BFI Top 50: Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, Released in 1975, Directed by Chantal Akerman

What I know going in

I had listened to a podcast describing the movie before watching it. So I already knew the ending, the basic structure, and the themes brought up. I did feel that this hurt my enjoyment of the film, because I was always impatient for the big finale to come. Knowing that the end would feature this huge moment,  made the rest of the film more boring than it should have been .

Immediate Reaction

"It was so boring!" is a phrase I often hear when people come upon a movie that moves at a bit slower pace, has a non-standard narrative arc, or does not reveal itself completely on a first viewing. Recently, I heard my mother use this phrase after she had watched Upstream Color and hated it. It is phrase I have come to associate with dismissal, when someone wants to quickly deride a movie without really engaging with it or trying to ponder it a little more than usual. It is a phrase I do best to avoid, because it is so commonplace that it's not really helpful when critiquing a film. It is great pain that I have to use this phrase to describe I was hoping to be entranced by. That film is Jeanne Dielman.

Jeanne Dielman was the first film in this marathon that I truly and deeply had to battle my own attention span to sit through. I would frequently become disengaged with the movie and start daydreaming about random topics, or I would stop the movie and go do something else for a little bit just to give myself a break. It was truly a passive experience. When I try to be an active viewer and either analyze what is going on or let the movie wash over me. I found that impossible to do with this film and I felt disengaged for pretty much the entire run time.

However, I'm still debating with myself if Jeanne Dielman is an effective film. The word realistic tends to get thrown around alot when talking about movies. Realistic is often used as a positive descriptor for a film and unrealistic is often used in a dismissive tone. I think those two words often get misused. Film is basically an unrealistic medium due to the use of editing. Scenes can be strung together in a way that invokes a certain emotion. Vast swaths of time can go by in a single cut. This process has no basis in the real world. Therefore, I often think words like honest or believable should be used instead of realistic and inconsistent or dishonest should be used in place of unrealistic. That being said, Jeanne Dielman may be the single, truly realistic film ever made. On the occasions I have stayed at home on my breaks from college, I will often peak on what my mom, a middle-aged housewife, is doing throughout day. The majority of her time is spent making beds, cooking supper, getting groceries, running errands, and doing laundry, with little time for much else. My mom hasn't really developed any type of hobby or random interest. Huh sounds like I movie I just watched right?

In that respect, Jeanne Dielman perfectly captures the day-to-day drudgery of being a housewife. The main character is constantly completing a chore or running errands to keep her house running for her teenage son. From the first 30 min of the film, it's pretty easy to gather that Dielman has no other purpose in life aside from being a housekeeper and lives her life as a dispassionate robot. Dielman's face seems paralyzed as her visage seems to be permanently locked into an emotionless expression. Even though she doesn't appear to get much enjoyment out of her routine, Dielman seems to get annoyed with even the tiniest amount of change. For example, she look somewhat pissed when an older woman has taken her spot at nearby cafe. Furthermore, in the few moments when Dielman has free time, she simply sits or stands motionless and stares blankly into space.

All of this, Dielmans robotic nature, the stationary, drab camerawork, and repetitive nature of the three day structure, basically forces the viewer to realize that being a Housewife is a fate worse than death. This is why I have been wrestling with this movie so much. The very aspects that help the movie make its point also make it a very disengaging, passive experience. It's the only movie I have seen that is both effective and boring. Perhaps if the camerawork had been a little bit more dynamic. Like following her down a street or employing a close-up to get a better sense of her emotional state. But that may have ruined the earthiness of the film. Maybe I just knew too much going in? I had listened to a podcast about the movie before watching. The basic themes were discussed and the ending was also talked about. As I mentioned earlier, I feel like I had already come to the conclusions the movie was pointing me towards by watching my own mother. I don't know what the social climate was like back when the movie was first released, so maybe it was very shocking for audiences to see this harrowing portrayal of a souless housewife.

I haven't even mentioned Dielmans dalliances with prostitution, the bizarre talks about sexuality she has with her son, and her eventual murder of a client. These elements stand out as they are much more lurid and pulpy in contrast to the mundaneness of the rest of the film. Although, Dielman's prostitution is displayed with same drabness as the rest of her routine. I honestly have no idea what to make of the other two elements. Her talks with her son have a slight incestuous edge to them. She also experiences her first orgasm at the end of the film and then kills the man responsible. I don't know if this is a decades in the making release of pent-up housewife frustration, her being angry at missing out on all those other orgasms, her being pissed that someone messed up her routine in such a major way, or an abstract feminist statement. Maybe Akerman just slapped the murder on at the end so people would forget the arduous past three hours and only remember the insane last 5 minutes.

Further thoughts

On first blush with these films I often have an ambivalent response. Usually, by writing about my experience and then reading other articles I am able to find a key to unlock my understanding of the film or a specific lens through which to view it. This line from Ivone Margulies’s article was that key for Jeanne Dielman: “When Jeanne sits on the mustard armchair, not knowing how to fill up her time, the anxiety is palpable.”

Dielman has scheduled her life so that she literally has no downtime. She must always be running an errand, cooking, setting her son’s clothes, or fucking a john. She has given herself no time to think. To do so would allow her mind to wander and that would lead to thinking about how monotonous her life has become. She is afraid of her own thoughts. Surprisingly, this was something I could identify with. While I don’t force to constantly do housework, I do usually try to have some extra stimulus going at all times. I listen to podcasts on my iPod constantly, even when I go to the bathroom, I fill my time up flitting around with video games, and I’m afraid of long silences around other people. Part of this is just me trying to entertain myself during odd hours of the day, but another part is similar to Dielman’s affliction. I sometimes feel afraid that if stop that extra stimulus, I will start reflecting on my own life and realize that somewhere, at some time, something went horribly wrong. Hopefully I don’t kill someone when I experience my own first orgasm.

Why is the film on this list?

It is one of the few films that fully critique contemporary womanhood. It is able to marry an extreme and daring style to the exploration of its themes.

BFI Top 50: The 400 Blows, Released in 1959 and Directed by Francois Truffaut

What I know before going in

I knew the film chronicled the life of a young boy in Paris

Immediate reaction

It’s rare to see a movie about young adulthood told in a mature manner and aimed completely at adults. I don’t know how well this film would work for someone the same age as the protagonist, but I found it to be a very honest and down-to-earth portrayal of what a latchkey childhood would be like in 60’s Paris. There is not any sentimentality applied to the film. It is told very matter-of-factly with a little bit of comedy thrown regarding Doinel’s antics. I wonder how this film influenced other famous movies about kids such A Christmas Story or The Sandlot. Again though, most movies about kids seemed to be primarily aimed at children or nostalgic adults, so The 400 Blows seems to be incomparable to other films that on the surface may seem similar.

I definitely enjoyed Doinel’s antics during the first half of the movie, especially his excuse that his mother died. That excuse was hilarious in how bold and outrageous it was for Doinel to use it, even though I can totally see a desperate kid using his mother’s death as a last-ditch effort to avoid trouble. The sequence of the teacher marching the kids through the streets of Paris was also quite humorous. The camera moves from the ground to rooftops as it slowly tracks the group, and one-by-one the kids run off from the group until only one or two are left. Perfectly observed and underplayed moments such as these are what made The 400 Blows such an enjoyable experience for me.

The film then slowly transitions to become much more harrowing during the second half. In the first half we see brief glimpses into the disorder of Doinel’s life. The apartment he lives in with his mother and not-father (a revelation that probably makes Doinel feel even more worthless) is obviously way too small. Doinel has to sleep on a couch in a sleeping bag. He also has to do this insane maneuver around the door any time he wants to take the garbage out. His parents aren’t portrayed as completely evil either. They are simply two people who probably never wanted a kid and as a result are somewhat absent from Doinel’s life. Eventually, this absence manifests when Doinel begins running away. Finally, Doinel steals his father typewriter and ends up getting caught when he tries to return. It is interesting that Truffaut chose to stage Doinel’s capture when he was returning the typewriter instead of when he was stealing. I think this was to reinforce that, at his core, Doinel is a good kid. He just likes a little structure. His interactions with his teacher also show this. He gets caught with the naughty picture in the beginning even though it’s not his. Doinel also attempts to write an excellent essay, but ends up plagiarizing from Balzac.

Doinel’s basic decency makes it all the more tragic when he ends up in the youth correctional facility. The most devastating scene being the one where he is locked up along with much older criminals and women of the night. Doinel’s misfortune is made all too clear as he cries in the back of the van. I couldn’t believe that this could happen to a 12 year old. He isn’t even a teenager yet! Doinel suffers further indignity when his mother comes to the facility explicitly to disown him. Of course, Doinel eventually escape and, in a beautiful series of tracking shots, runs to the ocean (a desire seeded earlier in the film). I can’t even imagine what must be going through Doinel’s head as he stares longingly out into the water. He is alone at this point, no friends, no family, and nowhere to go. For a 12 year old child, that has got to be terrifying. However, he is also completely free. There will be no teachers to ridicule him and not parents to abuse him. Doinel can now do anything he wants, and for a 12 year old child, that has got to be exhilarating.

Further thoughts

I sometimes wonder if huge artistic movements, such as the French New Wave, are possible in today’s world. Through the internet, everyone can essentially find their own unique niche of film, music, or literature. This is definitely beneficial in that it allows people to more easily discover weird, exciting new art. However, it may also be somewhat harmful in that less adventurous people may narrow into one specific genre and refuse to expand their boundaries. When The 400 Blows was released, there was much less in terms of entertainment, waiting out there to stimulate people. I bet a lot of people went into their local theater; saw that a movie called The 400 Blows was playing, and simply went in and watched it. Being that this movie is a highly personal and one of the first shots of a new brand of cinema (eventually leading to New Hollywood and the rise of indie movies) I would imagine that most people had their minds blown and realized they had never seen anything like this before.

I just don’t think a deeply personal film and raw films such The 400 Blows would get any play today though, even though I think all the elements are in place for a second new wave to emerge. It’s rare that I go a single week without seeing an article bemoaning the low quality of recent blockbusters or feel a little when that latest box office numbers are announced. I would imagine that the critics of Cahiers du Cinéma had similar feelings towards the “cinema of quality” that they thought was choking France’s movie industry. I would also imagine that most young adults would enjoy seeing their troubles and frustrations displayed on the silver screen much in the same manner that the youth of the 60’s latched onto the New Wave films.

And I don’t think that what’s blocking the creation of second New Wave is with viewers, it stems from a much higher level. For example, my brother and I recently went to see Before Midnight, a film that is deeply indebted to The 400 Blows, and we brought along one of my brother’s friends. Now this friend did not have the most adventurous tastes in film. However, he very much enjoyed Before Midnight. In fact, he later admitted that he could not stop thinking about the film. The film’s intensely personal conversations about life, love, and everything else were probably a shock to him. He probably did not think a film as deeply human as Before Midnight could even exist. I know if more people saw the film, I know they would enjoy on a similar level as my brother’s friend. A lot of people would also probably enjoy The 400 Blows if they were forced to sit down and watch it. If studios were only willing to promote these films more, it may be possible to recreate the radical nature of the French New Wave.

Why is it on the list?

The 400 Blows was one of the first films to establish the honesty and stylistic daring of the French New Wave.

BFI Top 50: La Dolce Vita, Released in 1961 and directed by Federico Fellini

What I know going in

A gossip journalist sort of descent into madness. Not really sure where this one is gonna take me.

Immediate Reaction

Any time I don’t have some type of immediate, visceral reaction to one of these films, it becomes really hard for me to start writing about it. I found La Dolce Vita really difficult to engage with. I encountered a similar problem with Gertrud. One similarity between the two films is that they feature very dense dialogue that is often about very heady topics such as love, the purpose of life, truth, and artistic merit. My two favorite films of all time, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, also cover similar topics and the dialogue in those movies is one of my favorite aspects about them. Of course, those two movies are in English and it’s easy for me to follow what the characters are saying, and it seems that when the same topics are covered in a different language and I have to read subtitles it is harder for me to follow along. It also creates a barrier between me and the characters and prevents me from getting completely emotionally invested in what is happening.

So that’s one caveat regarding my opinion of the film. I found it very hard to engage with the film. Everything just kind of happened and didn’t seem to have any dramatic stakes. I personally wasn’t able to sympathize with any of the characters, even Marcello, because I never felt that I learned enough about them to really care. The film is structured as seven episodes, which takes place over the course of seven days, which may or may not take place in a completely linear manner. While this is an interesting structure, it would have been cool seeing how these random events affect Marcello over a week, the events were just too random for me to really build to anything. I guess Marcello gradually unravels near the end, he tries to incite an orgy for instance, but it was hard for me to understand where that anger came from as he is such a passive character. Even the advertising of the film confused. Anita Ekberg is prominently displayed on the poster. In fact, when she showed up, I thought the rest of the film would focus on Marcello trying to woo her. However, her character just kind of disappears after being onscreen for like 20ish minutes. Again, I found this very loose structure hard to deal with.

The only theme I was really able to decipher is the film’s indictment of the paparazzo culture. It shows these photographers and journalists as just complete amoral animals. They view the arrival of an American actress, a phony sighting of the Madonna, and double murder suicide as only a chance to get some juicy pictures. I found all of the paparazzo really annoying and would have loved to see them get some weird karmic backlash at the end of the film. In that regard, I empathize with Marcello’s desire to move out of the paparazzo business and create some type of lasting impact through literature. The film also has a very heavy focus on actresses, actors, models, aristocrats, and artists. A lot of these people are not portrayed in a sympathetic light. For example, on the last day, Marcello walks around a castle with a random posse he has come across. All of them act just completely silly, stupid, seem really empty and disengaged with life. In that sense, the film may also be a general critique of modern Italian society at the time. Hopefully I will uncover more of that thread when I work though some of the supplemental materials on the disc.

Further thoughts

Richard Shickel’s commentary was useful in helping me get a better grasp on what exactly the film was going for. As Americans, I think we have a tendency to view Europe in a simplified manner. Most Americans when they think of Europe, see it as a place to escape the drudgery and blandness of life in the USA. We imagine going to Europe will allow us to have fun, sexy adventures in beautiful locales. France and Italy probably suffer the most in our imagination and they are seen as a place of romance and passion. I believe that La Dolce Vita is a critique to that American viewpoint. On the surface, Marcello’s life would seem exciting. He lives in Rome, has sexy sports car, works for an entertainment newspapers, sleeps around, and gets to hang out with celebrities. However, as the film progresses, it is revealed that Marcello feels very empty and is unable to go beyond his surface desires. He can’t commit to the various women he chases after and is unable to remove himself from his paparazzi gig, despite expressing a desire to do so. The end of the movie makes it clear that he will be forever lost in a sea of pettiness and constant yearning. This is demonstrated by his inability to hear the teenage waitress near the end of movie. Earlier in the movie Marcello had met this girl in a restaurant and described her as angelic. She clearly represents a more thoughtful way of living, one that Marcello is now unable to attain. Instead, he walks away with a group of flighty individuals and the ending credits sarcastically flash: “La Dolce Vita,” the sweet life.

There are also two key symbols that are helpful in understanding the movie. One at the beginning and one at the end. The beginning symbol is more overt. A plastic statue of Jesus is flown past the ancient ruins of Rome. This is clearly a mockery of Roman Catholic traditions and affront to the rich history of Rome. Fellini is clearly stating that the new modern Rome may look appealing, but dig a little deeper and there’s not a whole lot there. A similar symbol occurs at the end of the movie. A leviathan-esque creature is drudged up from the sea. This ancient creature is poked at and made fun of by Marcello and his gaggle of friends. Something old and deserving of respect is mocked. Hint: substitute Rome for the creature!

Why is it on the list?

The film is a brutal, effective takedown of the supposed modernity of then-current Italian society.

BFI Top 50: Some Like it Hot, Released in 1959 and directed by Billy Wilder

What I know going in

I know it’s a cross-dressing comedy starring Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, and Marilyn Monroe. The only other Billy Wilder film I have seen is Sunset Boulevard, which I enjoyed immensely and is in my top 10 favorite films of all time, so I am excited to expand my knowledge of Wilder’s filmography. Since the film is a comedy I am interested in the reasons why the film is on the list. Is it daring in its exploration of the sexes, or is simply an incredibly funny film? I guess I’ll find out.

Immediate reaction

It is always interesting to go back and watch old comedies and horror movies. It provides an excellent opportunity to learn about what, in general, was going on in society at the time. Fear and laughter are possibly the two most visceral emotions and determining what makes a set of people afraid, what makes them laugh, and what they find edgy can be very revealing. Apparently, Some Like it Hot, got a “C” (Condemned) rating from the National Legion of Decency and was involved in the ultimate downfall of the production code because released as the equivalent of today’s unrated.

Needless to say, the film is incredibly tame by today’s standards and I have definitely run into a problem trying to judge the film. In general, I did find it enjoyable and it has a great zippy pace that I think would keep most audiences today engaged. Curtis and Lemmon are great in their respective. Lemmon’s character is so committed to cross-dressing that even seems to start to enjoy the film. Is it one of the top 50 greatest films of all time? I personally don’t think so, but maybe I am judging it too harshly because of the expectations the BFI’s list creates. If I had watched the film outside of this marathon, I may have even enjoyed it more. My viewing also made me think about context, which is a problem I had with City Lights as well. Had I seen Some Like it Hot when it came in 1959 I may have been falling out of my seat with laughter. Is it wrong to judge a film in this way? Should a film be able to retain its full power when it is viewed out of context in order to be considered a great film?

Going in, I was expecting the film to provide a critique of male-female relations. The film did have a few moments of satire. When Lemmon and Curtis board the train as women to escape from Chicago, Bienstock pinches Curtis’s ass. When the group arrives at the Florida hotel, the two leads realize that they are constantly being propositioned by men. They even comment on how difficult it is to walk in heels. I hope that when males first saw the movie 1959 (a time not known for progressive views regarding women) that they thought a tiny bit about their own attitudes towards the opposite sex.

This is also the first Marilyn Monroe movie I have seen, and I didn’t much care for her performance. Don’t get me wrong, I think she was very attractive, but not significantly than the other women in the band. I also found Monroe’s character in the film to be so ditzy that she became unappealing and I began to question Curtis’s attraction to the character. Again, this might be a problem with context. If I had come of age when Monroe was the brightest star in Hollywood, maybe I would have found her irresistible.

Further thoughts

I haven’t read anything that is allowing me to delve deeper into the themes of the movie or anything like that, just explanations on why the movie is so funny. Again, I enjoyed my time with the movie, but I just wasn’t able to muster the same enthusiasm for the film that other critics had. Usually, when I have felt nonplussed by a movie as part of this marathon, reading about it or watching supplementary materials has helped me to better understand its goals. In most cases, I end up enjoying the film more than on my initial watch. However, Some Like it Hot didn’t spark the same reaction within me.

Why is it on the list?

I assume to have an example screwball comedy. Every genre of film is important and it would be wrong to not include a certain type of film because it is viewed as less important or inconsequential. That being said, Playtime is also a comedy and I found it to have much more depth and thematic resonance than Some Like it Hot. If it was up to me, I probably wouldn’t put the film on the list.

BFI Top 50: Gertrud, released in 1964 and directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer

What I know going in

I know the film mainly concerns the romantic issues faced by the title character. I have never seen a Dreyer film before, but I know his style is very austere, and he is famous for his use of long takes in cinema.

Immediate Reaction

Gertrud is perhaps the most minimal and still film I have ever watched. Dreyer basically jettison’s every element of film that he deems unnecessary or unimportant. I imagine if someone had interviewed Dreyer before starting the film, he would have answered their questions in the following manner. How many locations are needed? – 3 or 4. What should the set design look like and how decorated should each room be? – Incredibly minimal and bare (the most significant set dressing is a plain mirror with two candles). How much should the camera move and how many cuts should there? – The camera should remain completely still or move incredibly slowly. There should only be 89 cuts (with the average being around 5 or 6 hundred). What about dialogue? – It should be incredibly, to the point, and all extraneous speech or small talk should be removed. What about the actors, how should they behave? – The actors should be nearly motionless, not look at each other, and serve as a delivery device for the dialogue.

I did not really get much out of the main performances. Like I said earlier, the actors don’t really look at each other when speaking, which made all of the interactions feel very unnatural. In addition, the actors mainly sit still and if they do move, it feels like they are walking in slow-motion. The dialogue and acting is also very stiff and I never really felt much emotion poking through. Honestly, the moving didn’t do much for me visually either. While I did find some weird hypnotic fascination in the glacial pace of the film, I felt that the narrative presented in the film would have been equally effective as a radio presentation or a play. Therefore, I am not sure if this really is a great film. If the majority of the experience is not conveyed visually, does that make it a terrible a film (a medium whose main advantage is its visual nature)? Unfortunately, I don’t feel like I am equipped to answer that question. I will probably have to reevaluate it after going through some of the supplemental materials on the disc and reading other reviews.

One interesting aspect of the film is its attitude toward the female protagonist. Portrayals of uncompromising women, unconcerned with the opinions of their male counterparts, are rare even today. Gertrud holds her belief in love to such a high regard that she is unwilling to give her husband and former lover a second chance. Once she learns that Jansson is not fully committed to her, she gives him an ultimatum: devote himself to her or leave altogether. While some might consider her brittle, she is probably one of the strongest woman ever portrayed in a film. With the title character, Dreyer was able to craft one of the finest feminist films ever.

Further thoughts

I have enjoyed reading analyses about the film. Jonathan Rosenbaum wrote an excellent essay detailing the similarities between Gertrud and Dreyer’s own life (similarities that are not necessarily immediately apparent). There is an interesting parallel between Gertrud’s uncompromising quest for love and the complete dedication Dreyer showed in this film. No matter what insults can be thrown at the film (it’s too slow, the characters are not relatable) it is unquestionably Dreyer’s vision. I could not imagine any studio wanting to make a film like Gertrud. It is also an incredibly singular film. I cannot think of a single film that takes a cue from r. There are certainly period drama still being made today, but I have not seen a single one that features the intense stillness, contemplative nature, and graceful quietude of Gertrud. While I may not have enjoyed Dreyer’s final film I can say I will probably never see anything like it again.

Why is it on the list?

Again, I don’t think Getrud is an incredibly influential film. I am very curious of seeing the other works in Dreyer’s filmography to see how the compare to Gertrud. Part of me wonders if Gertrud was simply included ensure that Dreyer was simply well-represented on the list. I would like to revisit my opinions after seeing other Dreyer films and maybe re-watching this film again.

BFI Top 50: Pierrot le Fou, Released in 1965, Directed by Jean-Luc Godard

What I know going in

It’s a French new wave directed by Jean-Luc Godard, that’s it.

Immediate Reaction

I honestly have no idea how to respond to this movie. At no point in the movie did I have any idea what was going on. In fact, I don’t think I even understood the basic plot until I read the Wikipedia summary. Also, I fell asleep about 1/3 of the way through and woke up around 20 minutes later. Of course, I rewound the movie and picked backed up where I fell asleep, but, honestly, looking back I probably could have kept the movie going without missing much. This is not really a knock against the movie, even if you knew the plot in detail; it wouldn’t accurately describe the experience of actually watching it.

I will do my best to narrate my experience of watching the film now. At its most basic, the film concerns the characters of Marianne Renoir, played by Anna Karina, and Ferdinand Griffon, played by Jean-Paul Belmondo, who Marianne has nicknamed Pierrot. They go on a crime spree throughout the French countryside. Although is technically told in a linear manner, the way the film progresses feels like Godard snipped each reel into panels and then randomly pieced them back together. This sensation is created by Godard’s frequent use of jump cuts and very minimal use of exposition. There also several sequences in the film where the two main characters will rapidly talk back and forth about what is happening, while images quickly flash by. In addition, Godard will often zoom in on artwork, posters, and ads that are displayed throughout the film. All of these techniques lead to me feeling very disoriented and confused throughout the entire film.

Obviously, this sensation was intentional on Godard’s part. Whenever a movie is filmed in a distinct manner, I think it’s always important to ask why the director made that choice and if the style fits the characters and themes of the movie. I am having some trouble sussing out the subtext in the film. The radical and abrupt nature in which it was filmed appears to reflect the decade in which it was made. Of course, it was made in the 60’s, a period of rapid and revolutionary societal change. In addition, the film is considered one of the seminal works of the French new wave movement, a changing of the guard in cinema whose main purpose was to break all the rules previously established in filmmaking.

Therefore, I think the chaotic nature of the film is an effective reflection of the turbulent nature of the sixties. The main characters movement from boredom in a bourgeoisie society, to complete free-fall echoes Godard’s disordered style. By extension, one could argue that it also represents decade in general. From moving out of the repressiveness of the fifties to the sixties, in which everyone feels like a thousand different impulses are pulling in them all directions.

Further thoughts

What I love about film is that I find it to be the only medium capable of truly imparting a feeling, impression, or emotional state. The best films cannot be ruined by plot description, because reading a film’s story will never be able to recapitulate how the visual language of film creates and delivers a mood or emotion to a viewer. Realizing this was the key to understanding Pierrot le fou. At the beginning of the movie, Jean-Paul Belmondo’s character recites this line from an art history book:

 “Past the age of fifty, Velasquez no longer painted anything concrete and precise. He drifted through the material world, penetrating it, as the air and the dusk. In the shimmering of the shadows, he caught unawares the nuances of color which he transformed into the invisible heart of his symphony of silence . . . His only experience of the world was those mysterious copulations which united the forms and tones with a secret but inevitable movement, which no convulsions or catacylsm could ever interrupt or impede. Space reigned supreme . . . It was as if some tenuous radiation gliding over the surfaces, imbued itself of their visible emanations, modelling them and endowing them with form, carrying elsewhere a perfume, like an echo, which would thus be dispersed like an imponderable dusk, over all the surrounding planes.”

Later, Ferdinand states that he intends to create about not about specific instances or specific people, but about life and about people in general. These statements mirror Godard’s own desire to make an impressionistic movie. Unfortunately, this is the first Godard film I have seen, so I can’t comment on how much of a break it is from his previous work. However, after reading a few essays about the movie, it does seem that this film was distinct from his earlier movies, which were heavily based on Hollywood genre flicks and more concerned with plot.

In contrast, with Pierrot le Fou, Godard did not want to deal with specifics. As I detailed earlier, he wanted to make a movie that gave the viewer an impression of the 60’s. In addition, Godard had recently divorced Anna Karina during filming, which gives the film an interesting personal twist if one sees Ferdinand as a Godard stand-in. So, the film is also able to impart the emotional fallout between Karina and Godard without really dealing with the specifics of their relationship.

Why is it on the list?

Well, after viewing the film I was left in a very chaotic and confused state of mind. Therefore, I would say Godard was extremely successful in effectively conveying the nature of the times, his own psychological state after divorcing Karina, and his desire to move into a more abstract and impressionistic style of filmmaking.