While I wasn't particularly surprised I didn't like Godard's Adieu au langage (Goodbye to Language), I am really disappointed in the fact that it split the jury prize at Cannes (winning with Xavier Dolan's Mommy) and maybe even more so the positive reviews of this so-called film. I really have to wonder how many are rewarding Godard for a magnificent career in film and are not really facing up to what a stinky mess of celluloid Adieu au langage is. A couple of reviewers preface their reviews by saying that Godard remains a provocateur, and that the film needs to be seen in that light, i.e. it is a statement and/or an intellectual exercise and not really a film to be enjoyed. But a couple seem to have really downed the Koolaid and talk about the magnificent colors of the film or how moving it was. Bull. These are reviewers who are afraid to be looked down on by their peers by admitting that this was a pretentious and intentionally amateurish film. There are similar trends in the jazz world, where for a small number of listeners but a larger group of reviewers, free jazz is the gold standard, despite the fact that many (certainly including myself) find it so sterile and frankly unpleasant. It just seems willfully obscurant and designed to chase away the general public. Given how jazz used to be so rooted in popular culture, and film hardly makes sense cut loose from its pop culture beginnings, it seems an odd choice to go down these (to me) fruitless, arid and anti-populist avenues. I can understand why some artists would get bored and turn inward, but I think it is a huge mistake for the larger community (particularly including critics) to be so indulgent towards them.
But I suppose it is a matter of degree; there are certainly lousy pop culture offerings that I turn my nose up at as well. The bottom line is I really like plays or the occasional movie that makes you think. In that sense, I found that Adieu au langage had so little to offer, other than rubbing our noses into the fact that film is an artifice and that it is a weakness or lack of character for people to expect meaningful dialogue or plots that seem to "go somewhere," i.e. build to some climax and then resolve themselves. We are essentially dupes for wanting this, Godard is saying, and will only give us tiny snippets that repeat themselves and go nowhere. There is no reveal as to whether the woman (or the man) committed suicide in the tub. There is no follow through to know if the man shot died or who apparently ran over another character. There is no plot at all in this film. But he's been doing this for some time now (really since 1998's Histoire(s) du cinema), and not surprisingly, I find it pretty boring by now and certainly not well done in this instance. While there is at least some truth to the general view that the French (and even British) have of Americans that we are all absurdly sentimental (as well as quasi-barbaric war-mongers), it seems just as true that the French fall for the most absurd pseudo-philosophizing and deem it profound.
But truly my loathing comes down to just how unpleasant it was to sit through this, so the craft as well as the ideas were bad. I thought it was silly to have the soundtrack snippets cut in and out, then later repeat themselves. I know the point is to call attention to the manipulative nature of movie soundtracks, but we get the joke, and this was not nice to sit through. There were issues (again almost certainly intentional) that made the subtitles hard to read. The film, despite some reviewers claiming otherwise, was deliberately amateurishly shot. Given that it was in 3-D, turning the camera sideways or upside down or switching over to low-resolution images or moving out of focus and even allowing the two images to slide in and out (rather than forming an image in stereo) was very jarring and frankly unfair to the audience. I had a headache from watching it that lasted almost 2 hours. I came very close to walking out, which I never do, and only the fact that I knew it was short (70 minutes) and that I wanted to watch the whole thing if I was going to call it out, compelled me to stay.
Ultimately, this was a hot mess of a film and not even an entertaining hot mess. I'm struggling to think of a film I dislike more, and I can't actually think of one off the top of my head (other than torture porn films which I've never actually viewed, knowing how morally bankrupt they are). I look at the similarly empty and sterile films he's made since 2000 (particularly Notre musique and Film Socialisme), and it just drives home how unfair life in general is. Godard gets lauded for these frankly terrible "films" (or rather art school projects) while Tati was completely shut out in his later years and could not complete some projects that would almost certainly would have been profound films in that very French sense. Tati had some curious ideas (with which I am not really in sympathy) about elevating the common man and relegating the "stars" of the film to the margins, but he was certainly never contemptuous of popular culture or, more importantly, the audience, which is clearly the place Godard operates from now.
I wouldn't say I am actually a fan of Chris Marker whose films are sort of in the same vein as late Godard (heavy on collage and cut-up techniques and light on plot), but I still find him easier to take. In addition to Jonathan Rosenbaum of the Chicago Reader, who has long been in love with late Godard, I find Richard Brody of the New Yorker to be similarly unbalanced. In this piece, where he is trying to explain just how great Godard's King Lear is (seriously, he considers it his top film of all time -- and most of his other picks are similarly inexplicable) and go into detail over the genius of Godard, Godard just comes across as a total prick and I had less respect for him than I did before I read it. I really don't understand why some artists are given a pass to act badly and critics lap up everything they do, while others (particularly those who still show dedication to craft rather than avant garde ideas) are scorned. By this point, I am well aware that I am in complete disagreement with Jonathan Rosenbaum on almost all films and I know that if he enjoyed a film, I will not and vice versa (aside from Tati, whom he reveres). It seems the same is true of Richard Brody (even down to his appreciation for Tati). Sometimes knowing which critics not to read is just as important as which ones that you do want to read. However, the truth is that I rarely read film reviews anyway, and I certainly don't seek them out, the way I did with Roger Ebert's reviews. I still haven't found anyone who made me interested in film (or at least film reviews) the way he did.
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