Breathless

          Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless is considered one of the major turning points in cinematic history. It epitomizes the French New Wave movement and reflects the theory of auteur-ship that was popular among independent filmmakers. Breathless is most noted for breaking the traditional cinematic codes that had been set in place since the beginning of film history and for providing viewers with a filmic experience that emphasized sensation over plot. Though it is sometimes tedious or frustrating to watch because of its jarring jump cuts and shaky camera movements, Breathless maintains its relevance by allowing viewers to feel as if they, along with Godard, were experiencing film for the first time.

The film begins with a car theft. Main character Michel steals a vehicle and sets off along the French countryside in the hopes of making it to Paris. Godard allows his viewers a view of the setting with multiple and seemingly unnecessary establishing shots. Godard makes jump cuts from one section of the road to the next in a manner that seems exasperating. Not only is the lens that we're viewing this world through very shaky, as if an amateur filmmaker is sitting in the passenger seat of Michel's car and documenting every moment, but it is hard for us to settle down and immerse ourselves in it. Right from the beginning, Godard shatters the illusion of film (Keathley). The goal of Hollywood cinema is to ensure that viewers are unaware of the fact that they are watching a movie. This is achieved through polished editing/cuts and steady camera movements. Godard, on the other hand, makes viewers very aware of the fact that they are watching a movie. The shaky camera and jarring cuts from perspective to perspective allow us to experience his process of filmmaking.

Another rather jarring aspect of this scene is the fact that Michel directly addresses his audience. He breaks the fourth wall and talks to us. Godard employs this technique to catch his audience off guard and make them a bit uneasy, thereby distancing themselves from the film's actual plot (Keathley). The goal of Breathless was not so much to convey a specific plot as it was to convey a sensation among viewers. Michel directly challenges his audience for watching him and is telling us to screw ourselves, more or less, for doing so (Keathley). 

At this point, while driving through the French countryside, Michel notices that he is being followed by police. Coincidentally, the jump on the car dies and he must pull over to the side of the road. He gets out of the car and is quickly joined by a policeman on a motorcycle. 

In a series of erratic cuts, Michel points his gun on the policeman and kills him. All we see, however, is the camera pan down Michel's arm into a close-up shot that spans the length of the gun and then the policeman fall into the bushes after he is shot. The abruptness of this scene eradicates the notion of unity that was a code in most Hollywood films (Keathley). There is nothing harmonious about the disjointed cuts from Michel, to the gun, to the fallen policeman. Instead, it seems messy and fitful. These techniques provide us insight into Michel's current state of mind. Just as Wiene's bizarrely stylized sets in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari suggest the insanity of his central character, Godard's jarring jump cuts and disjointed editing techniques express to the audience that Michel's mind is messy, unpredictable, and unreliable (Keathley). 

In this shot, the final in the shooting scene, we see Michel abandon his car and the man he just murdered and take off across a field. Godard employs the use of a wide angle and a tracking shot so that we may follow Michel in his escape. He cuts to the tracking shot immediately after the policeman falls into the bushes. There is no shot in between the two to establish Michel's emotional reaction to what he has just done. A shot such as this would allow the audience to make a psychological connection with the main character (Keathley). Godard, however, denies us this connection and distances us from Michel, which leaves us with a lot of questions as to what our relationship with him is. Do we identify with this man? Do we celebrate his triumph over the law, or do we condemn him for committing a murder? We can trust neither Michel nor Godard and, as a result, feel a heightened sense of uneasiness. 

        Breathless reinvented film because it allowed viewers to feel as if they were experiencing it for the first time ever. Traditional cinematic code dictated that directors would tell their audience a story in a way that made spatial and temporal sense. Viewers learned to trust that directors would fully develop relationships between them and the characters they were watching on screen. Godard's jarring jump cuts, shaky camera angles, and lack of character identification completely demolish this code and make Breathless almost amateurish. But the fact that these qualities are part of an artistic vision meant to generate a unique sensation among viewers make it profound. Godard, in true auteur fashion, uses his camera as his pen and develops a very personal and unique style (Art Cinema and the Idea of Authorship). He does more than just tell us a story about a young man who steals a car and tries to convince the love of his life to run away with him, he uses distinct stylistic choices, like the ones described in the films above, to craft an art piece. While other films adhered to a code of unity, illusion, and harmony, Breathless was unpredictable, untrustworthy, and spontaneous and, for these reasons, remains refreshingly timeless.

Works Cited:

"Art Cinema and the Idea of Authorship." Film History. Kristin Thompson and David Bordwell. 

Keathley, Christian. "Jean-Luc Godard's A Bout de Souffle and the American Cinema." Senses of Cinema. Nov 2007. Web.