I'd Say the Title Sums Up My Opinion Quite Nicely...
This weekend's review: Contempt.
I suspected going into Contempt (Le Mépris in French) that I wasn’t going to like it much. It was directed by Jean-Luc Godard, who has a reputation for art films, and I generally don’t enjoy that particular genre. However, there was one element to the movie that got my attention, so I took a chance on it. Sadly, even that one thing wasn’t enough to save the movie for me.
Right from the start, the movie makes part of its intentions clear-it’s going to be a reflection on movies and moviemaking. The movie opens with a long still shot watching as a camera performs a tracking shot, and then someone (possibly Godard) repeats an André Bazin quote about film before turning the camera to face the audience, an obviously symbolic and pretentious move. Then the “plot” begins. Paul Javal (Michel Piccoli) is a writer who’s gone from writing crime novels (or maybe theater; we get contradictory statements on this) to screenwriting, which has allowed him to buy and decorate an apartment in Italy for him and his beautiful wife Camille (Brigitte Bardot). Paul gets contacted by American movie producer Jeremy Prokosch (Jack Palance) to rewrite the script for an adaptation of The Odyssey that’s being shot in Italy. Prokosch is a stereotypical blustering producer who wants results fast and butts heads with the movie’s director, but Paul agrees to take the job. When Camille comes to pick him up at the studio, Prokosch invites them to visit his house, and suggests he take Camille in his car while Paul takes a taxi. Paul agrees, but this action leads to an extended argument between him and Camille, which takes up at least a third of the runtime and doubles as a reflection of love. We also get those reflections on filmmaking, which sometimes blend with and are sometimes separate from the love (or rather, falling out of love) story. As you can probably tell, this is a movie that’s trying to say something deep and meaningful, but is going to end up leaving the average viewer cold.
The movie basically has every stereotype we think of when it comes to art films, especially French art films. There’s a lot of standing around and talking with minimal action; dialogue and thoughts that no one would ever think or say in the real world; obviously arty cinema, from deliberate framing to a panning effect that creates this weird optical illusion where the film looks rounded and kind of bulges out while the periphery looks flat; nudity, though just butts rather than breasts; and a frustrating ending. The bulk of the movie consists of Paul and Camille arguing, taking one position before doing a 180 a few minutes later, or flip-flopping back and forth. No forward progress seems to be being made, and when something does happen, it’s for nebulous reasons. I can tell the two of them are having relationship issues and that the incident with Prokosch was the cause, but I can’t really follow the other threads. As for the movie element, it’s nothing film buffs won’t have heard before-producers care about getting things done than about quality or meaning, and will interfere with the director’s vision as a result. But most of this is told rather than shown, so we don’t even really get a movie about movies, which can at least give us a glimpse into what goes on behind-the-scenes, or a sense of how movies used to be made. So you’ll probably wind up being baffled, bored, and disappointed by turns. If you’re like me, however, you may find one bright spot.
You see, the director I mentioned in the summary is none other than Fritz Lang, playing himself, and he ends up being the most normal character in the whole movie. He points out that’s what written on the page won’t necessarily have the same impact when it’s being presented visually, doesn’t like the trope of someone murdering because of love, and dryly points out that Prokosch’s demands sometimes are similar to a certain regime Lang fled in the 30’s. He stays out of most of the arguments, or just mildly states his case, unperturbed. I’m probably overstating things because of my Lang bias, but he really was the only good part of the movie for me.
Lang’s presence, however, does add a meta aspect to the story that I find a little difficult to parse. Are the things Lang says things he actually believes, or was he just saying what was in the script? Similarly, did he agree to do this job because he agreed with Godard’s view, or did he take it purely for the money or exposure? Even the snippets we see of “Lang’s” Odyssey are a source of confusion. The bits we see are completely at odds with the way Lang directs-he’s generally pretty straightforward with a preference for darker elements, whereas what we see on screen is way too artsy, complete with over-the-top eye makeup for all “his” cast. Lang was apparently almost completely blind when they shot the movie (I had no idea until I looked it up after the fact; he moves under his own power throughout the movie), so I highly doubt that Lang actually directed those segments, but you still can’t help but wonder if he did, leading to further questions. Was he forced to do what Godard told him? Did he agree with those decisions? And if those bits were entirely his, why such a change from his normal style? I don’t know if any of this was intentional on Godard’s part, but I suppose I should be grateful for it either way. All those questions were at least more engaging than most of the movie.
Barring a deep love for art films or Fritz Lang, I’d strongly recommend avoiding this movie. The only other reason you might want to watch it is to practice your French, since Paul and Prokosch mostly communicate through Prokosch’s assistant (Giorgia Moll) and you can use her translations and the subtitles to help you out and see how things can change in translation. But I suspect there are way more entertaining ways to get that practice, that features more coherent material and thus better audience engagement. I’m probably being uncharitable, but the movie isn’t exactly meeting me halfway here. But I will take a leaf out of Godard’s book to end this review; as Roger Ebert once said, Mr. Godard, “Your movie sucks.”
I suspected going into Contempt (Le Mépris in French) that I wasn’t going to like it much. It was directed by Jean-Luc Godard, who has a reputation for art films, and I generally don’t enjoy that particular genre. However, there was one element to the movie that got my attention, so I took a chance on it. Sadly, even that one thing wasn’t enough to save the movie for me.
Right from the start, the movie makes part of its intentions clear-it’s going to be a reflection on movies and moviemaking. The movie opens with a long still shot watching as a camera performs a tracking shot, and then someone (possibly Godard) repeats an André Bazin quote about film before turning the camera to face the audience, an obviously symbolic and pretentious move. Then the “plot” begins. Paul Javal (Michel Piccoli) is a writer who’s gone from writing crime novels (or maybe theater; we get contradictory statements on this) to screenwriting, which has allowed him to buy and decorate an apartment in Italy for him and his beautiful wife Camille (Brigitte Bardot). Paul gets contacted by American movie producer Jeremy Prokosch (Jack Palance) to rewrite the script for an adaptation of The Odyssey that’s being shot in Italy. Prokosch is a stereotypical blustering producer who wants results fast and butts heads with the movie’s director, but Paul agrees to take the job. When Camille comes to pick him up at the studio, Prokosch invites them to visit his house, and suggests he take Camille in his car while Paul takes a taxi. Paul agrees, but this action leads to an extended argument between him and Camille, which takes up at least a third of the runtime and doubles as a reflection of love. We also get those reflections on filmmaking, which sometimes blend with and are sometimes separate from the love (or rather, falling out of love) story. As you can probably tell, this is a movie that’s trying to say something deep and meaningful, but is going to end up leaving the average viewer cold.
The movie basically has every stereotype we think of when it comes to art films, especially French art films. There’s a lot of standing around and talking with minimal action; dialogue and thoughts that no one would ever think or say in the real world; obviously arty cinema, from deliberate framing to a panning effect that creates this weird optical illusion where the film looks rounded and kind of bulges out while the periphery looks flat; nudity, though just butts rather than breasts; and a frustrating ending. The bulk of the movie consists of Paul and Camille arguing, taking one position before doing a 180 a few minutes later, or flip-flopping back and forth. No forward progress seems to be being made, and when something does happen, it’s for nebulous reasons. I can tell the two of them are having relationship issues and that the incident with Prokosch was the cause, but I can’t really follow the other threads. As for the movie element, it’s nothing film buffs won’t have heard before-producers care about getting things done than about quality or meaning, and will interfere with the director’s vision as a result. But most of this is told rather than shown, so we don’t even really get a movie about movies, which can at least give us a glimpse into what goes on behind-the-scenes, or a sense of how movies used to be made. So you’ll probably wind up being baffled, bored, and disappointed by turns. If you’re like me, however, you may find one bright spot.
You see, the director I mentioned in the summary is none other than Fritz Lang, playing himself, and he ends up being the most normal character in the whole movie. He points out that’s what written on the page won’t necessarily have the same impact when it’s being presented visually, doesn’t like the trope of someone murdering because of love, and dryly points out that Prokosch’s demands sometimes are similar to a certain regime Lang fled in the 30’s. He stays out of most of the arguments, or just mildly states his case, unperturbed. I’m probably overstating things because of my Lang bias, but he really was the only good part of the movie for me.
Lang’s presence, however, does add a meta aspect to the story that I find a little difficult to parse. Are the things Lang says things he actually believes, or was he just saying what was in the script? Similarly, did he agree to do this job because he agreed with Godard’s view, or did he take it purely for the money or exposure? Even the snippets we see of “Lang’s” Odyssey are a source of confusion. The bits we see are completely at odds with the way Lang directs-he’s generally pretty straightforward with a preference for darker elements, whereas what we see on screen is way too artsy, complete with over-the-top eye makeup for all “his” cast. Lang was apparently almost completely blind when they shot the movie (I had no idea until I looked it up after the fact; he moves under his own power throughout the movie), so I highly doubt that Lang actually directed those segments, but you still can’t help but wonder if he did, leading to further questions. Was he forced to do what Godard told him? Did he agree with those decisions? And if those bits were entirely his, why such a change from his normal style? I don’t know if any of this was intentional on Godard’s part, but I suppose I should be grateful for it either way. All those questions were at least more engaging than most of the movie.
Barring a deep love for art films or Fritz Lang, I’d strongly recommend avoiding this movie. The only other reason you might want to watch it is to practice your French, since Paul and Prokosch mostly communicate through Prokosch’s assistant (Giorgia Moll) and you can use her translations and the subtitles to help you out and see how things can change in translation. But I suspect there are way more entertaining ways to get that practice, that features more coherent material and thus better audience engagement. I’m probably being uncharitable, but the movie isn’t exactly meeting me halfway here. But I will take a leaf out of Godard’s book to end this review; as Roger Ebert once said, Mr. Godard, “Your movie sucks.”