Histoire(s) du Cinéma

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma (1988 - 1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

The opening title card for Jean-Luc Godard's eight-part long Histoire(s) du Cinéma.

Overall Rating: ★½

I can't immediately recall the last time I saw so much ambition in a project on a deep and thought-provoking level, so much so that before I watched it the very thought of it lifted me up to thinking about very deep ideas of cinema. This kind of anticipation did nothing but result in being slammed down from the high point the potential of a film or film-project captivated me in. Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma is a ludicrous representation of the so-called "histories of cinema," so much so that I hate to even say the final word of its title. The film is more a critique and an aimless discussion of politics, existentialism, time, reality, destiny, and the sorts in a way that is both irritating in its listlessness and dodgy in what it is trying to analyze and critique. Godard's ego has swelled to somehow masquerade this project as dealing with the multiple histories and stories of cinema, but instead provide one with nothing more than images and clips with no cohesion, mindnumbing and droll conversations and solo musings without a main idea or any remote clarity, and monotonous aesthetic ingredients that show confidence from its commander but simultaneous overconfidence. It's one of the single most disappointing things I've ever seen on film.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 1(a): All the (Hi)stories (1988)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★½

Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma immediately intrigues just based on the title alone, which suggest that Godard will approach the enormous idea and medium of film by looking at multiple different countries and the differences between their films versus films from other countries and perhaps work off of that to illustrate the idea that film has many written and unwritten histories. It's an unbelievably ambitious concept, and after viewing the eight-part series' "a" part of the series' first chapter - titled All the (Hi)stories - I'm not sure Godard was ready to tackle the idea, at least in a clear, coherent way.

Godard's nonlinear filmmaking style is ever-present in Histoire(s) du Cinéma, but in a way so alienating I wasn't anticipating at all. Godard narrates most of the first chapter, constantly chomping and puffing on a cigar, while furiously typing on a rickety typewriter his rambling, disjointed thoughts, ideas, quotations, and perceptions of cinema, some taken from his own personal thoughts, others quoted from philosophers, filmmakers, poets, and others. Plastered on the screen haphazardly along with English subtitles are stray text, colorful dialog, randomly-placed letters inside words, and jumbled phrases, already crowding frames that would be plenty crowded if they simply stuck to showing the images from films.

The biggest frustration, however, is the lack of seriousness present with this project thus far, all by Godard, who seems to just be using such an ambitious idea of laying out the histories of cinema by showing off his skills with primitive video-effects software. Most of the film clips he uses are never said which films they come, actors are scarcely mentioned by name, and directors' impacts and legacies seem shortchanged because of how jumbled the structure of this series is. The overall design of everything is messy and maddening, and it's sad to say that I exited the first part of the first chapter, which runs about fifty minutes, confused, frustrated, and worst of all, not any smarter or any brighter on the history of cinema than I previously had been.

All the (Hi)stories seems to concern numerous different genres and different types of films that are all combined together to show the diversity amongst cinema as a whole. The most significant moment in this first part, for me, was the quote "The world for a nickel," which flashes on screen about three times in a fragmented state before the aforementioned phrase finally appears. The quote essentially illustrates a time in American history when a person could spend just a nickel at the local cinema or Nickelodeon and be greeted with wondrous, limitless pictures that further showed and emphasized on worlds you probably didn't have the means to explore. It is this reason, precisely, that I find cinema to be the closest thing to magic and wonder that I have personally experienced in life.

It's just sad to note that Godard doesn't seem to be treating this project with any of the respect it deserves, from overloading the screen with needless text, cutting and pasting images with no apparent rhyme or reason, and incoherently narrating over the images, never circumventing to a discernible point. One could simply say, "but that's Godard," to which I will simply reply, "but that's disrespectful."

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 1(b): A Single (Hi)story (1989)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★

After the borderline-abysmal first part of French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard's first chapter of Histoire(s) du Cinéma, I was very much hesitant to watch another part. For a filmmaker that has made films that were rebellious to convention and to French filmmaking norms throughout the entire 1960's decade, it wasn't unexpected to see Godard's unique and unconventional style crossover to his eight-part series on the history of cinema. However, it was surprising to see how maddeningly incoherent and jumbled the first part felt, as if Godard was simply trying to shortchange and disrespect the medium in every way he could, from not giving depth or analysis to the film clips he chose, to hardly even explaining why he felt some incredibly diverse clips went together.

With A Single (Hi)story, the conclusion of chapter one of four chapters in Histoire(s) du Cinéma, Godard continues the heavily alienating style to a similar middling effect. All of the issues I took with the first part are still here, from the disgusting abundance of text, some of which is completely illegible since no effort was made to distinguish the white-colored text from equally white-colored backgrounds, to the redundant and purposefully vague narration provided by the cigar-chomping, constantly-typing Godard himself. What saves A Single (Hi)story from being just as bad as the first part is Godard's inclusion of scenes from films like Charlie Chaplin's The Kid, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and early film clips from the iconic Lumière brothers, which keep one in tune with the work, despite its almost compulsive attempt to completely distract and irritate at every turn.

On top of that, surrealist cinema is shown somewhat here, and while no analysis is provided - something you think would kind of be included or emphasized in a lengthy documentary trying to elaborate on the history of cinema - it's nice to see Godard recognize these clips and make an attempt to string several clips along to showcase what a certain chapter in cinema was about.

Aside from that, A Single (Hi)story suffers from the same problems as its predecessor All the (Hi)stories; if this keeps up, I wouldn't hesitate to name Histoire(s) du Cinéma one of the biggest, most ambitious letdowns I've yet to experience.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 2(a): Only Cinema (1997)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★

Only Cinema is the "a" part of the chapter two in Godard's already long-winded and underdeveloped look inside cinema through his eight-part series Histoire(s) du Cinéma. This time, we start off by having Godard annoyingly transcribe the title of this project, the chapter, and the subtitle for the chapter on a notepad with the fattest, squeakiest black marker ever. It's unnecessary and irritating and sets the tone for what we've seen so far.

After the cloying introduction, however, things become a bit more solid than the first couple parts. The followup scene to the opening shows Godard being interviewed and shows him talking about working in the New Wave period of French cinema, when convention was being defined and young filmmaking rebels were popping up, showing the traditionalist approach to filmmaking wasn't the only way it could be done. The interviewer brings up an interesting point to Godard, about how the French New Wave period in film came in during the fifties and the sixties, which was also about the midpoint in cinema's existence, since it began in the late 1800's.

This is an interesting thing to contemplate, being the fact that cinema was still relatively young at the time and, at least in one country, already adapted a traditionalist way of conducting itself. However, when the filmmaking rebels like Godard entered in the picture, they were almost adhering to the founders of cinema, who created their own tricks and, in turn, everything they created was subversive. Godard operated on the same wavelengths, and to this day, even still does as he churns out films and projects in his late-eighties.

What follows after an intriguing interview is another array of jumbled pictures, some moving, some still images, and tiring, purposefully vague narration on how cinema relates with other different art forms. By now, it's all starting to look the same, and I'm thinking about how little I've actually learned from this. Consider Mark Cousins' massive miniseries A Story of Film: An Odyssey, which often gets criticized and discredited because of Cousins' thick, Northern Irish accent of all things. At least Cousins made a conscious attempt to hit all, or most, of the film bases and provide us with an understandable, extractable history about one of the most original and free art forms that has ever existed. It was informative and thoughtful.

Godard's problem is this all feels too haphazardly planned and impulsively compiled together, as if Godard decided at the absolute last minute he'll make a series with one of the most ambitious topics and ideas ever and this is what it came to be. So far, it's a perfect example of too much ambition and too little direction.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 2(b): Deadly Beauty (1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★

Since the first episode of Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma, I can assure you, I think I figured out what he was trying to go for. Godard seems to be trying to illustrate the experimentation people conducted with film throughout its history, while, simultaneously, making a film that is pretty experimental as well. It's about as meta as one can be, and while it's a novel concept that has some merit, four parts in and I'm almost ready to wave the white flag in defeat to Godard's constant defiling of convention and traditionalism.

Deadly Beauty, the "b" part of chapter two in this ongoing expedition of cinema, offers about the same amount of information as the previous three chapters, which amounts to very little in the long-run. Because Godard goes for a heavily impressionistic style for a documentary that should be constantly informing, there's little information that sticks, and even the beautiful, often poetic images of films and art only linger in ones mind for a brief time before dissipating into empty thoughts.

Godard has some interesting musings in this part, however, from illustrating the idea that cinema has often been about death and murder and how we rarely see miracles like a flower blooming or a newborn baby being born. This idea that cinema has been more concerned with death than life would be hugely interesting if we saw some sort of compilation of clips alluding to that, rather than practically accepting it as anecdotal thought, but unfortunately, the idea is abandoned almost as soon as it is brought up.

On top of that, we once again witness some seriously beautiful images captured under seriously droll and monotonous narration from Godard, which is the same old vagueness in thought and idea we've gotten before. Reviewing this series has almost been as much of a task as watching it because of the fact that there is little to discuss that hasn't been brought up before. Godard has found the style, and, regardless of what I or others think, he's sticking to him. I applaud him as much as I want to never watch another film by him again.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 3(a): The Coin of the Absolute (1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★

The Coin of the Absolute, the fifth part and the beginning part of chapter three to Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma, opens with a rather intense and unsurprisingly incoherent monologue about the government and the oppression it brings, with Godard talking about how governments/establishments, like citizens, need to be punished when they commit crimes. This would be great in a political documentary, or one furthering or expressing an agenda - not for a miniseries that claims to analyze and explore the histories of film when it frankly doesn't do much of anything related to film analysis in the long-run.

"What is cinema?," Godard asks in the form of his trademark title cards. "Nothing," he replies. "What does it want?," he asks again. "Everything." "What can it do?" "Something." These are the thought-provoking title cards that exist in The Coin of the Absolute, which, in turn, make twenty-six minutes seem woefully longer than they really are. Godard's one shining moment in this part is he does get into discussing the job of a cinematographer and what they do, but by the time that rolls around, it's too little too late, especially with the way Godard talks about the job.

The part ends with Godard discussing "destiny" and "time" and how time actively condemns destiny. What does this have to do with cinema? Nothing. How has this entire experience been? Exhausting.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 3(b): A New Wave (1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★½

The most tolerable part of Jean-Luc Godard's overlong and grossly underwritten, eight-part exploration of cinema called Histoire(s) du Cinéma comes in the form of the chapter on the cinematic event he was a master and commander of - the New Wave, specifically in France. This chapter works to form a montage on clips taken from films that were made during respective cinematic new waves in their land. Leave it to Godard to actually seem to put effort and thought into the one part of cinema that he was a part of, but not look to provide that same care and attention with other parts and instead get sidetracked by philosophical and political ramblings that should've been saved for another disappointing video project.

A New Wave is interesting because Godard throws in clips from his films in the mix as well, which, if we think a bit, reminds us of the very thing director Martin Scorsese didn't do when he made his series A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies. Scorsese stopped when he got to the chapter on seventies cinema, for that's when he began making films and feared this part would evoke too much personal bias from himself. Instead, he pulled the plug on that part and called the film quits when that part came in the mix. This isn't suggesting that Godard himself is too egomaniacal and self-congratulatory (there are many other pieces of evidence you can use to accuse him for that), but its does present an interesting point.

Such interesting points need to presented by an audience since Histoire(s) du Cinéma contains only a select few of them. Being that the first two parts of the series were made in the late eighties and it took a full ten years for Godard to come back to the project before cranking out the remaining four parts within the same year, A New Wave, like the previous The Coin of the Absolute, feels rushed in some regards. However, the fact that Godard seems to put care and attention to the structure, pacing, and information in this part is a real unexpected blessing in and of itself.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 4(a): The Control of the Universe (1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★

Watching The Control of the Universe chapter in Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma is relieving because not only is it the home stretch of one of the most disappointing and underwhelming miniseries I've ever seen, but it's also when I recognized something about Godard and this particular project of his that made me better understand the eight-part series.

Histoire(s) du Cinéma captures Godard's most fully realized period in his life, politically in terms of intelligence and depth of knowledge, structurally in terms of how he fully decided how he wanted to structure and layer his films, and personally, for one gets the idea that Godard has succeeded in expressing and learning himself. This is evident with Godard tossing in his trademarks such as on-screen text, unpredictable cuts in takes, jump cuts, wacky filters, and an indescribable editing style that needs to be seen rather than discussed. When looking at the project from a lens like that, Histoire(s) du Cinéma actually develops a personal meaning rather than looking at it on the surface.

But surface and an overarching meaning that is less personal and more informative on the "histories of cinema," so Godard claims is something that is also necessary, and in this case, it's beginning to sound redundant that Histoire(s) du Cinéma really has yet to do that for me in any conceivable way. Between Godard's long-winded monologues about things I assume I'm too simple to understand over pornographic images intercut with Tod Browning's Freaks and his constant use of a mumble-tone narrative, describing philosophical and existential ideas over seemingly more unrelated and intertwined clips of cinema, there's less to seemingly say besides this series continues to be boring and overlong, and has yet to provide me with any kind of extractable, new information other than repetitive hokum.

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.

[StevePulaski]

Histoire(s) du Cinéma: Chapter 4(b): The Signs Among Us (1998)
Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard

Rating: ★★

The Signs Among Us concludes Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire(s) du Cinéma on an unsurprisingly droll and noneventful note, concluding one of the most underwhelming cinematic experiences I have yet to have. Godard wraps up his alleged exploration of the "histories of cinema" by continuing to chain smoke thick cigars, bring up questions about life, destiny, and time, which seem woefully unrelated to the clips and kinds of cinema he's discussing at the current time (when he is and, man, is he rarely doing such a thing), and ask us that cinema's greatest mystery is "when to start a shot" and "when to end a shot."

These questions could be wonderfully explored in a film or project that actually got to the heart and meat of its ideas, rather than dancing around them, vaguely displaying them, and aimlessly discussing them in a manner that is informal and arguably disrespectful. Godard intercuts clips of films that seemingly have no connection, but he never establishes why he decided to connect such clips together, and claiming that this series addresses and discusses the "histories of cinema" seems to be just purely incorrect.

Godard doesn't seem to be taking this entire thing seriously, continuously editing in distracting text cards and quick-cuts in a disconnected and disjointed manner, so it's puzzling why I've been taking these reviews so seriously. What's the point really?

Directed by: Jean-Luc Godard.