The forty-second money discussion appears in "Nouvelle Vague" between the characters. Jean-Luc Godard's producer is running through numbers, and the figure he keeps circling back to is essentially nothing. A pittance. The kind of budget that wouldn't cover catering on a studio picture. Godard continues to use up film stock at an alarming rate because he believes film stock should be available without cost while he chooses to film his movies on real Parisian streets because he lacks the budget for building sets which he has transformed into a artistic approach.
Richard Linklater gets this. His professional success stems from his ability to present limitations as if they were actual decision options.
The character of Godard in Guillaume Marbeck's portrayal exists with dark sunglasses which provide a useful screen for viewers to insert their own interpretations. Genius.
Charlatan. Both, probably. He tosses off lines like "All you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun" with the conviction of someone who has never had to justify a budget overrun to a studio accountant. The film treats this as charming. I kept wondering which group should take responsibility for risk when a visionary leader decides to disregard all existing rules.
The supporting cast works for nothing, or close to it. Aubry Dullin delivers an exceptional performance as Jean-Paul Belmondo by depicting the unique self-assurance of an untalented actor who feels his worth exceeds his current value. Zoey Deutch portrays Jean Seberg through her constant assessment of whether this risk will lead to success. She has already faced the destructive power of Hollywood in her previous experience. The camera captures her interesting facial reactions when Godard suddenly changes the scene during filming but she remains unimpressed by his spontaneous actions.
There's a moment where the cinematographer, Raoul Coutard, is wheeled through traffic on a mail cart because they can't afford a dolly. Linklater shows through this scene that this short instant brings liberty to every character in the story. And maybe it was. But someone still had to source that cart, negotiate with whoever owned it, figure out the insurance situation or more likely ignore the insurance situation entirely.
"Following rules won't get me where I want to go," Godard announces at one point. Which is easy to say when you're not the one who'll be sued if an actor gets hit by a car.
The black and white cinematography by David Chambille is gorgeous, obviously. The 4:3 aspect ratio creates a sense of closeness in Paris which suits the low-budget homemade style Linklater attempts to recreate. The entire space appears both tight and pressing at the same time. The filmmakers used camera blocking to hide specific shops from view which made me wonder if they were building a historical recreation or defending their content from copyright violations.
What works best here is how Linklater captures the particular madness of collaborative creative work done on no money. Everyone is irritated. Everyone is exhilarated. The producer Bruno Dreyfürst plays a character who appears sickly throughout the entire film which seems authentic. The future film directors who started as young critics spent their time in cafes arguing between American B-movies and French prestige cinema about which one showed genuine reality. They're not wrong, exactly. The tenants are not paying their rent for the property where they currently reside.
I found myself liking the film more than I expected to. Linklater has consistently recognized that human dialogue creates its own dramatic elements which he successfully captures in the energetic café scenes of this film. The director avoids copying Godard's filmmaking approach because it would be humiliating instead he creates a work which shares a spiritual connection with Godard's style. The tribute presents itself as a direct reference which proudly displays its origins without any sense of regret.
Still. There's something the film romanticises that I couldn't quite shake. All these young artists changing cinema forever, and the movie treats their willingness to work for nothing as pure rather than desperate. Maybe both are true. My economics lecturer used to say that passion functions as a subsidy which only moves in one specific direction and this concept has stayed with me since then.
The movie concludes by showing no indication about what happened to "Breathless" after the final scene. No title cards about how it revolutionised cinema. The crew members worked until they finished their tasks while they remained unaware that their efforts had produced something significant. Which is the honest way to do it.
