Weekend

If you're a major fan of European movies, this next statement might piss you off, I'm not sure.

Lately, I'm kind of annoyed by Jean-Luc Godard. I recognize the man's genius - one would have to be ignorant of his contributions to film history to deny that his place in the pantheon. I'm not even saying there aren't films of his I admire, own and rewatch frequently. (Band of Outsiders is a personal favorite).

But Weekend, coming at the end point of his amazing 7-year burst of inspiration that started with Breathless in 1960, was really the clincher. It's a dazzling film, an inspired burst of cinematic energy that's dynamic, thoughtful, funny and frequently exciting. But it's also intensely obnoxious, like listening to an eccentric uncle harangue you about your choice of friends.

This was, essentially, the beginning of the end for fun, funny, entertaining Godard. After Weekend, the films got more political, more experimental, more sarcastic and more shrill.

Just as Godard's films are filled with ideas, they are infused with different sides of his personality. Sometimes, as in Breathless, he's feeling playful. Other times, he's feeling preachy, and still other times, he's feeling downright sadistic. Weekend combines all of those sides.



Weekend is the story of a nihilistic, greedy, angry couple (Mireille Darc and Jean Yanne) speeding across the country side en route to her father's house, in the hopes that he will die soon and include them in his will. What originally promised to be an idyllic drive turns into a nightmare, as their car is beset by all manner of chaos.

The France of the film has been embroiled in an End of Days, post-apocalyptic kind of anarchy. Abandoned cars and debris are everywhere, they are repeatedly and brutally attacked, and also attack others without fear of legal or moral consequences. At one point, they are seemingly drafted into a violent and aimless revolutionary movement.

Oh, and a guy dressed in French Revolution-era clothing shows up periodically to read from a manifesto.

The movie is gleefully all over the place. Godard's is a his spastic kind of film language - he's perfectly happy to flit between ideas, scenes, characters, even tones without concern for losing his audience. Even the music in Weekend is chaotic - the score starts and stops randomly, and grows louder and quieter mid-scene. Sometimes, it gets so loud, it drowns out the spoken dialogue.

There really isn't a Godard film I've seen that doesn't have at least 4 or 5 sequences of complete and utter brilliance, and Weekend is certainly no different. In fact, it probably has 8-10 maddeningly ingenious set pieces. One in particular, a looooooong tracking shot taking in a surreal traffic jam, is remarkable from a creative, practical and technological standpoint.

At its heart, Weekend can be seen as a proto-typical socio-economic screed against the West, America in particular. This greedy, self-involved couple speeds past all manner of devastation, caring not at all for the horror around them, focused only on their petty economic goal. They only worry about civilization coming apart all around them when it affects their personal safety.

Society in Weekend is a fraud, an illusion propogated by the rich in order to subvert justice. People are kind and polite only as a means to an end, as a way of taking advantage of one another. If a man asks about a woman's situation and well-being, it's only because he wants to rape her, never because he wants to help her. Civilization is built on an implicit lie to Godard, the lie that says forming societies makes life more tolerable rather than reducing human beings to mere drones in a grand and pointless hierarchy.

In reality, there is no greater meaning to civilization. The Rule of Law is an oppressive rather than liberating force. So why do sensible people remain within its confines, rather than revolting and replacing government with anarchy? Laziness, the film seems to suggest. And apathy.

Godard rather brilliantly reflects this idea by tearing down the fourth wall, by having his characters call attention to the fictional world of the movie. At one point, the man complains that he dislikes being in a movie, because all of the characters he meets are insane. At another point, a passing driver refuses to pick up hitchhikers because they are film characters.

Though they realize this predicament, the characters also realize they are helpless to do anything about it. They are inside a film, this bizarre film world is their reality, so there is nothing else to do but continue following the "plot," even though they know it is silly and pointless, and their quest will continue forever with no end.

So, to sum up, my problem with the film is one of attitude towards the material, not filmmaking. Godard by this point had developed kind of a smarmy way about him; he's the windbag know-it-all as master filmmaker, showing all us plebes the way through his biting, cynical movies.

A friend of mine once volunteered at the American Cinematheque, and told me a story about Godard. One night, Jean-Luc was scheduled to appear at a screening at the Egyptian Theater. A few hours before the film, a call came in from Godard's assistant.

"The Master will be unable to attend the screening," the assistant said.

Weekend is the kind of film made by a guy who has people refer to him as "The Master." It's a fabulous, fiercely intelligent and immensely important film, but also a sneering, hysterical and obnoxious one.