À Bout De Souffle (Jean-Luc Godard, 1960)

Jean Seberg & Jean-Paul Belmondo 

It’s often said that a mark of greatness in any work of art is its ability to withstand the test of time. A bout de souffle certainly fits that bill.  Met with much critical acclaim upon its initial release in 1960, the film is still regarded as a masterpiece. How did a film made on a shoestring budget of $90k and shot in a record time of four weeks manage to acquire such lasting power? Godard told a British magazine he considered the film “as being the end of the old Cinema, destroying all the old principles.” It’s precisely that spirit of innovation that has resonated with cinephiles, ensuring the film’s place in the cinematic canon.

                 At the heart of the film lies a fairly simple story. A petty car thief kills a cop and goes to Paris to convince the girl he loves to run away with him to Italy. The possibilities for suspense are endless within this premise. In fact it’s not hard to imagine what the film would have been like had it been directed by older masters such as Huston or Carné. But the narrative’s (de)construction is one of the first indications that Godard isn’t interested in keeping up with the traditional rules of cinema. A bout de souffle watches like a series of interludes/sketches that are either unrelated to or don’t further the  plot: Michel’s visit to his friend’s apartment, Patricia’s interview with Parvulesco. The biggest of these pauses happens in Patricia’s bedroom. In a scene that clocks in at almost 30 minutes, nothing of significant importance happens. Michel and Patricia flirt, tease each other, talk art and make love. This focus on the non-essential is certainly counter-intuitive to the “old cinema” that retained its audience’s attention by leaving the boring parts on the cutting room floor. Godard, on the contrary, taunts his viewers with all sorts of mundane details. Everything happens matter-of-factly and detached, challenging our expectations of a film.

        In a essay for Cahiers du Cinema, fellow new waver Luc Moullet notes that the film’s protagonists both “possess a moral attitude hitherto unknown to cinema.” Michel murders a cop and shows no sign of remorse. He steals money from a friend, again with little hesitation. As for Patricia, her interest in Michel grows upon discovering he’s a criminal. She then turns around and betrays the man she claims to love. Interestingly, Godard’s amoral lens never allows for judgement of their immorality, thus leaving the audience ample room to like and sympathize with these characters. Even the film’s tragic ending doesn’t feel like a moral conclusion. Patricia doesn’t betray Michel out of moral duty but out of fear and cowardice. And Michel’s death is not the punishment reserved for the “bad guy” since he willfully chooses it . Breathless doesn’t reinforce the audience’s sense of moral righteousness like a traditional film might do.
           Godard also deconstructs the idea of film genre through the characters and the film itself. Michel has his roots in film noir without all the grittiness. He forms such a stark contrast to the lone brooding men of the genre with his playful attitude. He’s more of  a lusty teenager who plays at being hard. When he kills the cop, it is with a weapon found in the car. He doesn’t own a fire gun, just like The Maltese Falcon’s Sam Spade. But if with the latter it’s an indication of uber-masculinity that can defeat adversaries with bare hands, it reinforces the idea of a child play acting in the former. As for Patricia, her betrayal of Michel draws a kinship to the femme fatale archetype but she is neither cunning nor manipulative. The film itself is dark in subject matter but light in tone. As Michel dies, he makes “sour faces” and closes his own eyes, allowing for comedy to disrupt the tragic finale.
          But by far, the most innovative aspect of the film is the mise-en-scene. There particularly, Godard, influenced by German playwright Bertol Brecht’s ideas on audience alienation, deploys all the tools in his arsenal to create distance between the film and its viewers. Breathless can’t possibly be discussed without mention of the jump cut. Breaking film’s invisibility rules, its usage disconcerts the audience and constantly refuses submersion in film reality. It also creates a frenetic pacing which can be considered ironic considering the film’s focus on the mundane. Godard also uses extra diegetic effects (loud sounds, scrolling neon’s light foreshadowing Michel’s fate) to constantly remind the audience that it is watching a film. This relentless process of alienation gives the film, at times, the feel of an exercise of filmed ideas about how to make a film in a new fashion.
         In his book, The Films of my life, Truffaut said that the best films open doors and make the viewer feels as if cinema began with them. He was talking about Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie. But I think his statement equally applies to Breathless. It’s a film that impresses with its spirit that breaks from tradition to offer up endless possibilities for a new cinema.