This is probably my favourite Godard that I've seen thus far. It's not just because of the luscious colour and expansive CinemaScope that it's filmed in, not because of the largely naked appearance of Brigitte Bardot, and not because of the hilariously manic performance by Jack Palance - though all of those things certainly play a role in my base enjoyment of the film. No, my appreciation of the film comes from somewhere else, somewhere deeper, more powerful. This is probably the most mature that Godard's been, at least in my eyes.

My love for this film comes largely because of its blatant acknowledgment of, fascination with, and admiration for the power of cinema. It's like all Godard films in this sense, as everything from Breathless to Pierrot le Fou has been largely concerned with reminding the audience that they are, in fact, watching a film, but this one is wholly different. It seems to want to do so on another level entirely, separate from formalistic or even artistic measures. From the beginning, with the narrated opening credits and the slowly approaching camera that eventually turns to shoot the audience, it's all about the psychological nature of film. Though this is expressed explicitly through the debates between Jerry, Paul, and Fritz Lang, Godard's direction and artistic choices make this quite clear as well.

One of the most interesting things, for me, about the film is its exploration of translation. Not just language translation - although that is an integral part, with Francesca's frequent mistranslations providing some interesting psychological aspects - but also the nature of book-to-film translations. The main story is about a cinematic adaptation of The Odyssey, and the many problems inherent within that. All three sides of the filmmaking triangle - producer, director, writer - have differing opinions as to what the true meaning of Homer's epic is, and this is the cause for much fighting between them. This kind of translation is echoed in the film itself, as it is actually based on a novel by Alberto Moravia. However, it is not a very faithful adaptation, and the changes that Godard makes to the novel to suit his artistic means seem to solve the aforementioned problems that Fritz as with adapting The Odyssey. Indeed, Godard himself can be seen to be reflected in the characters of both Fritz and Paul (the former articulating Godard's ideas about cinema, and the latter representing his fear of selling out to commercialism); along these lines, Jerry would stand for his much-loathed producers and Camille would symbolize Anna Karina, Godard's wife and frequent leading lady. This is perhaps his most personal film, and that makes it his most interesting.

Though I don't find it to be a perfect film - the long sequence in the apartment goes on a bit too long for my tastes, though I understand its need - it's definitely an impressive one and one that's not likely to leave me soon. And, at the very least, it has a lot of naked Brigitte Bardot. Like, a lot.

Good stuff, Trixster. I'm with you once again, except it's probably not even in my top 5 Godard films. I think I like it less for any psychological ruminations on cinema's power than because it's such an immersing film. In colors and sets and script and story, it's easily the easiest Godard to swallow, to get lost in. There's a lot of really hilarious and fun lines and scenes and stuff, too. It's just a really good time.

Yeah, Jerry is such a cartoonish caricature that it's easy to enjoy it just for Palance. As well as the colours and wide shots and everything else. But I loved the little stuff, like the spoken credits and the haunting score. As well as Bardot.

In the apartment, do you happen to recall seeing straight lines all bent? Like it was using a super wide angle or something? I'm just curious if it was just something on my tv, or what...because it was incredibly noticeable.

I think my favorite thing about this movie is Lang's interpretation of the Odyssey. I'd love to see that movie. :O

I'm not sure about at the apartment, but in the scene where Jerry's going apeshit about the death of cinema right at the beginning of the film, you can tell that the building's lines at the top and bottom of the screen bend towards the edges of the frame. I only know that scene because we watched it again in class. I think it's because they were using an extra-wide lens, which can do that.

And I think the most ironic thing about this film is the version of The Odyssey being filmed. It doesn't look like a Lang film at all (compare it to M or Metropolis), it looks like a Godard film. Which makes sense.

I can understand that.