I’ve been testing out my new Royal 1920s typewriter, (yes I have a new one, delightful photograph below), and its been settling in nicely. Testing and typing is therapeutic. I set up my cup of tea, lean back, type a thing, evitably make a mistake and try to backspace, end up making a mark that looks like a distressed bird, scrap it, retype, get lost, and as it turns dark. I’ve been penning strange letters to no one in particular as a result. I still can’t resolve the margin issues and now all my lines still look like they are free-flying. The ‘b’ key fails to work and so I venture to do a little skipping continuous click to keep up with the momentum. Faster and faster it is a race that I must catch – I am a little shopmistress in a cloth boutique handling the cash register – cling-ding!
The shop owner’s wife collects typewriters. She has a pretty one called ‘Princess’ that I love. My mind strays to an amusing anecdote that H had told me, about a little girl he met in Philippines during a work trip who told him that her name was Princess. H cannot stand princesses. He has high expectations of girls to be proper and independent and not whimsical and spoilt. I think otherwise, and that a Princess typewriter sounds enchanting! I had asked the shopowner if he had a typewriter in pink, or mint. He had laughed and said that those would definitely cost upwards of a thousand dollars, because of their rarity. For me, I feel my typing soul feels black and old. So the one I got is just right. Though sometimes I am charmed by a little bit of cursive, or a straying musical note. Imagine a typewriter that types music – Like the Olympia modified manual typewriters! Function or nostalgia?
“According to the History of Music Printing website, the MusicWriter was invented by Cecil Effinger, a noted choral composer and music professor who created his first prototype in 1946. His company, Music Print Corporation, worked with various manufacturers (including Olympia and Smith Corona, the creators of this particular model) to produce more than 5,000 MusicWriters from 1956 to 1990.
The keyboard was used to put musical characters on any page. You could work on manuscript paper or use the MusicWriter to create even the staff lines. Unlike a typewriter, the MusicWriter carriage does not advance after striking a key: the user has to very carefully position the paper wherever they want to add any character. Many items, including slurs, ties, and beams had to be drawn by hand. Details of how music was created with the MusicWriter can be seen here.
While ingenious for its time, the MusicWriter didn’t handle transpositions, apply music spacing, or do any of the countless things we take for granted with software today — even in the $10 Finale NotePad. A Boulder History Museum webpage acknowledges this disparity: “Unfortunately, due to the advent of computers, MusicWriters quickly became obsolete.” – finale blog
Some of my favourites that the shopowner has owned/owns:
Authors and their typewriters…
The shopowner told me that they sometimes have gatherings at the Penny University cafe where all the typewriter-struck folks in Singapore gather, set up their typewriters and type their thoughts – a decidedly hipster affair. Lugging the box itself (my typewriter claims to be portable) is fatal. However, I still think it sounds enchanting! They also gather to do typewriter related craft activities and watch old documentaries on vintage typewriters. Somehow it sounds like something that you, Irving, would love to do too.
The story of how I came to get a typewriter- how and when did it start? But I had been flipping back on this blog’s archives one of those days and I had found that actually I had mused on wanting a typewriter AND a recordplayer in 2011. H’s declaration that I have been struck by G.A.D (gear acquisition syndrome) would be right. I think I am satisfied with these (for now, he claims), and dream on typing and playing a Carla Bruni record on a rooftop sometimes.
I’m thinking of taking custom orders for quotes, letters and such, but thats for another day…
I love this song so much and it describes the female psyche so much. Especially the delightful ending!
So fun!! Although my fate-line is short…at least it is a little point on my hand.
Irving, when you come, we have to dance like this all around the island! You have to do the twirl with me! Please watch and MASTER the video VERY carefully. Haha!
And if you complain, please note that at least I did not tell you to learn this one:
“At the depth of the Great Depression, downtrodden waitress Cecilia (Mia Farrow) finds solace from an abusive husband and financial woes by loosing herself at her local movie theater. She soon found herself spellbound by The Purple Rose of Cairo, a brittle pre-Code comedy set in Art Deco penthouses and nightclubs populated by slick Manhattan-ites in fur coats, tuxedos and tails. The film’s ingenious self-reflexivity materializes when one character, pith-helmeted explorer Tom Baxter (Jeff Daniels), glances out from the screen and addresses Cecilia directly. He proceeds to climb down from the silver screen, and leaves with her, as the stranded performers question their existence and the movie patrons rebuke them for allowing the plot to fall apart. Wooed by Baxter’s charm, Cecilia finds herself falling for him – until she meets Gil Shepherd (also Jeff Daniels), the real actor who plays him. Romanced by both a fictional character and a famous star, Cecilia struggles to locate the shifting line between fantasy and reality, only to discover that sometimes it’s just a heartbeat away.”
Did you or did you not like Mia Farrow in The Great Gatsby? I’m off to see this movie tonight at the open air cinema/ National Museum, and am gorgeously excited! I think the plot sounds brilliant. I bet you have already watched it, Irving, but if you haven’t, here’s a little slaver of temptation.
The film noir play I spoke about, which I am scriptwriting/co-directing/acting for will show tomorrow! We have tried to keep it slick, but in the end added a little camp given the nature of the audience. Just been so terribly busy outside work! But I am thrilled everything is coming together!
Also kudos to B.C for helping me to get Natsu Matsuri tickets. I am looking forward to it so much, and will dance around in my yukuta and squeal with little Japanese children and do the Bondori!
Henry Stevenson (Burt Lancaster) to wife Leona (Barbara Stanwyck): “I want you to do something. I want you to get yourself out of the bed, and get over to the window and scream as loud as you can. Otherwise you only have another three minutes to live.” Sorry Wrong Number, 1948
Strangers on a Train
Senator Morton (Leo G. Carroll): “Poor unfortunate girl.”
Barbara Morton (Patricia Hitchcock): “She was a tramp.”
Senator: “She was a human being. Let me remind you that even the most unworthy of us has a right to life and the pursuit of happiness.”
Barbara: “From what I hear she pursued it in all directions.”Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker) to Guy Haines (Farley Granger): “I do your murder. You do mine. Criss-cross.”
Touch of Evil (1958)
Quinlan (Orson Welles): “I’m Hank Quinlan.” Tanya (Marlene Dietrich): “I didn’t recognize you. You should lay off those candy bars.”
Quinlan: “Come on, read my future for me.” Tanya: “You haven’t got any.” Quinlan: “What do you mean?” Tanya: “Your future is all used up.”
And my favourite:
The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)
Georgia Lorrison (Lana Turner): “Jonathan, will you marry me?”
Jonathan Shields (Kirk Douglas): “Not even a little bit.”
Film noir (literally, “black film” in French) evolved out of American hard-boiled detective novels and the cinematic influence of German Expressionism. For every Hollywood fairytale produced during the 40s and 50s — a time when the puritanical, anti-communist Hays Production Code was strictly enforced — there was a film noir doppelganger, a fever dream full of danger, despair, and depravity.
“Going up the red carpet is something that can change a career. Having to show up in front of hundreds of photographers screaming your name is a kind of weird barometer of your celebrity… well, let’s just say it’s not a moment where you want to miss on your outfit.
But let me tell you that, in Cannes, everything is organized around it. Hairdressers, make up artists and stylists are walking around the hotels like crazy, and each couture house has a suite full of fantastic evening gowns. Jewels are the final touch. What is funny is that when jewels are handed to you, they come with a bodyguard…
In these pictures are the last minutes before Julia Saner goes walking up the steps. She’s wearing a stunning Pucci dress and Chopard jewels… Look at that emerald! So beautiful I am out of words…” – Garance Dore
Just had a really awesome day with fantastic meetings on the progress of investigations. Sometimes I really love my job. You feel as though you are getting somewhere. A small team, but everyone’s really earnest, and brilliant. I learn so much from them, all the time.
I’ve moved on to social reading, The Accidental Billionaires – glamourized version of the start-up of Facebook by Mark Zuckerberg, and I’m zeons late because the movie, The Social Network, was released so long ago. Plus, my best friend Irving wrote this great review of it (and he never likes modern movies):
“It’s been advertised as the movie about our cyber-technoid generation but I see it more in the vein of the American dream type of story – the facebook element is pretty superfluous to the whole plot. Mark Zuckerberg/Jesse Eisenberg could had discovered anything – so long as it was something that would make him look cool. And in today’s day and age – what could be cooler than being the CEO (you bitches!) of a 500 million Finals club?
It’s the ‘bitches’ part that summarises what the movie is about for me – along with the two assholes line in the movie (‘You’re not an asshole Mark, you’re just trying so hard to be one’). The Social Network is about that self-important attitude that tells you that you deserve to be something great or alternatively be with someone great that leads to a kind of failed attempt to reconcile intellectual arrogance with a desire to be part of the cool group at school. It’s that angle of the movie which I found the most fascinating and even now I’m not sure whether I’ve made up my mind about whether I approve of Jesse Eisenberg’s character or not – which is perhaps one of the best complements I can give to a movie – that it opens itself to interpretation.
There’s a similar ‘in your face’ attitude to the movie as Fight Club (same director), except this time it’s a more subtle ‘I’m doing things that no one in this room is intellectually or creatively capable of doing’ sort of rebellion rather than the merely physical sort – an attitude which seems to be really popular among audiences. We all laugh at quotes like that because we’re rooting for Mark Zuckerberg – we know that FB is a (huge) success – we like to be on the winning smart side – we get a malevolent dose of joy at seeing dumb(er) people being put down. We like it when someone seemingly ordinary with everyday troubles of fitting in turns around and punches everyone in the face with a website that has everyone crawling on their knees begging you to let them use it.
It’s fun and fulfilling to see smart people being recognised for doing smart things. That is the American dream storyline in action.
What makes The Social Network more than just a genre picture is seeing all the bits and pieces that were left behind on the way to success, leaving a bittersweet feeling that nothing at all has changed in his life despite all that success. That trait of self-importance carries with it both the ambish, without which Mark Zuckerberg would never had succeeded, as well as the epithet of emotional unfulfillment. On the one hand, it’s hard to blame Mark for wanting to prove his ability. On the other hand, what’s so great about being in a Finals club anyway? What’s the personal motive behind that?
I really liked this movie. The dialogue runs at a screwball pace – in that witty self referential way which I love where the dialogue falls over backwards on itself – you can never anticipate what will come up next. Don’t miss the first 10 minutes.”
Hey Irving, I now know what you were talking about, and I loved the film!
I remember the days when facebook suddenly broke out on campus. Suddenly everyone was on it, posting photographs, events, cancelled lectures/notes all came flooding through fb, campaigning took place through facebook, and it was so fun flooding D’s and J’s walls haha. It was in early 2006 for me, and since then I suppose I am a guilty facebook addict, though less so now.
J and I met up for dinner, and he told me, amongst others, of some Top Gear host who started up a programme on old toys and created, amongst others, a two-storey house made of lego.
The above photograph – resembles a pretty toy town, the kind you find with coloured toy tracks. But its actually an aerial photograph of Rekjavik, Iceland – I do want to visit one day.
S and I were talking about hosting a dinner in a wild forest setting. Something a little messy, a little lux, with hot candles and a free spirit, a little bit of jewish songs and too much alcohol, traditional dishes and old wooden cutlery. S came from Canada and rode horses for most of her childhood, ended up in law and has now started her own hedge fund (its so fun telling what the boys to do, she says) and we used to cook together on thursday nights in the summer. S loves sunflowers, turkey and carrots, and stockings with cherry emblems.
In my conversations with S, I always feel so inspired- there is nothing in the world that can stop what we can do together – we can cook for hours and eat by the fire and talk about art and beautiful things. She describes her favourite horse and I tell her about poetry and the obscure theory I am obsessed about for the moment.
All this before we return to the real world where horses rarely tread and the way we live is much more mundane. But I dream of half Canada half Singapore every once in awhile.
A story shared by Christine which I think you will like, Irving:
“When I was in kindergarten, like many little girls, I had a Bonnebell glittery chapstick that I would wear around my neck like a necklace. I’m sure it was the “in” thing when I was five.I still remember her name; Annabell (I remember this fondly because it rhymes with Bonnebell). Annabell asked me if she could use my chapstick. Being the germaphobe that I was, I denied her of her request.Wrong choice of words.Annabell threatened to tell the teacher that I refused to “share”. We had just learned the art of “sharing” a day or two ago so I would’ve been totally fucked. I didn’t want to disappoint my teacher so I reluctantly handed her my beloved chapstick.
Annabell took my chapstick, rolled it all the way up, bit off a huge chunk, and ate it.
This is why I don’t share. ”
Dear, you.
Forgot to write about the closing of the Fairmont Hotel jazz pub. All the good jazz places are just disappearing from Singapore. Singapore is just not a good place for jazz. Sharon and I were just chatting over lunch on how rare it is to find good places nowadays, those little smoky hideaways where people come in devotion to the music are a thing of the past. In Japan, America, even parts of Asia, the jazz culture is vibrant, reinventing itself, whereas here they try to fit the music into a straitjacket. Sometimes the rare gem comes by for a visit, but then somehow perhaps jazz people don’t make good publicists.
But I love Melissa, I’ve grown a little fond of hearing from her on weekend nights at the Mandarin Oriental Axis bar. In my last week in Fairmont, she was filling in and doing some pieces with a guitarist, but I really liked that intimacy. Forgetting everything but the music. People who come for the music. I think Melissa is a dear and her voice is honeysuckle.
The cocktails have such quirky names. But I think I’ll actually be able to coax Irving to have a Hemingway Daiquiri.
Sometimes I think it is marvellous to step back into a film noir universe, and when I do I think of “Laura“. It wasn’t the best, but it was a smoky, decadent black and white romance.
Tonight, watched TRAVAUX, ON SAIT QUAND ÇA COMMENCE at the Alliance Francaise theatre. So zany and absurd, makes me want to dance to Spanish music, paint my walls bright pink, and hide a chicken in the wall. Let me spoil the plot for you that at the end of the movie, Hugh Grant walks in holding a bag of goldfish.
Chantal Letellier is a “wonderful woman.” She’s a lawyer. She always wins her cases. In her professional life she’s a heavyweight, but in her private life she’s a pushover. She’s divorced – and didn’t even litigate – and is saddled with two teenage kids who are very well brought up in a bad kind of way. When it comes to love, think “desert” – she’s got no time. But flesh is weak and one night she lets loose with a client. Undoes a few buttons and then a few buttons more. He falls madly in love with her and settles in. To get rid of him, she undertakes major renovations with the intention of making the house unlivable.
I am not very sure on how I feel about french movies. But then I watch one and I watch the next one again and again. I suppose it means I like them, the way I would see someone I like again and again. Sometimes there are terrifically bad moments, so bad that they remain in your mind like a octopus monster in a french ballet dancer’s room in a queer movie. Sometimes the moments are tender, sexy, delicate. I remember the days in jc of eating cheese and watching french movies without subtitles which I didn’t understand. But laughter, spirit on screen is contagious. It is something like that.
Its a bit like looking through the lenses of someone else, certain french movies. You nibble a little on a piece of someone’s mind.
The models used in that famous American Gothic painting.
Met E and J for dinner again…sashimi and gelato…so much like old times.
J’s an ENTJ like me! Looking back at the old photo….somehow it is just surreal how all the years have passed…And soon E will be married soon!
I think the world turns while I still remain very much a child… being happy with my little cup of matcha gelato.
I walk in a line
I see where I’m going
I turn inside out
The days that I’ve known
I face to myself
And give up the ghost
I turn in my mind
What time already knows
In the Time Of The Assassins
They say hallelujah
It doesn’t take a miracle to raise a
Heart from the dead
I sift through the ash
I look for a sign
I open the wound
That keeps me in line
The shoulder that turns
The flame that goes out
The chapter I close
In the Time Of The Assassins
They say hallelujah
It doesn’t take a miracle to raise a
Heart from the dead
G and I had a retro evening two weeks ago at the Air Supply concert, and we had so much fun running to catch gray-haired tiddly winks guy and singing to old -school favourites like All Out of Love!
I grew up to Air Supply, really, and though never that obsessive a fan, it was so fun joining the old crowd (I think we were the only young people besides the kids that the old folks bring) but it was so corny and old school, it was good fun! And it was great seeing G again and hearing of his near death adventures in Philippines (which led to his finding the love of his life – congrats, G!)
I realize the best part of love is the thinnest lace And it don’t count for much but I’m not letting go I believe there’s still much to believe in
So lift your eyes if you feel you can Reach for a star and I’ll show you a plan I figured it out What I needed was someone to show me
You know you can’t fool me I’ve been loving you too long It started so easy You want to carry on
Chorus: Lost in love and I don’t know much Was I thinking about Fell out of touch But I’m back on my feet Eager to be what you wanted
So lift your eyes if you feel you can Reach for a star and I’ll show you a plan I figured it out What I needed was someone to show me
You know you can’t fool me I’ve been loving you too long It started so easy You want to carry on
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s was on TCM last week, and so I watched it for the bazillionth time, as usual. However, during this particular viewing I realized something that I hadn’t before. I could care less if Audrey and George Peppard end up together at the end. To me, the film reaches its emotional climax not because George and Audrey embrace, but because they have Cat between them.
From the moment that the cab scene starts, my stomach is filled with wasps. I know that any moment she’ll be tossing Cat out into the rain. When Cat grabs onto the car, trying desperately and hopelessly to stay in the warm dry cab, the tears start to flow. I don’t think I’ve ever really paid attention to any dialogue that occurs after Cat is thrown out, because I’m screaming at my tv “STOP THE CAR! YOU NEED TO SAVE CAT!” If I could, I’d jump into my tv and look for him myself.
If I have one of my cats nearby whilst watching, they are at this point being hugged tightly while I anxiously await the moment when Cat is found.
Normal people are relieved when Audrey shows up in the alley calling for her cat — but not for the same reasons I am. They believe she’s seen the error of her ways; she’s going to let George love her; a happy ending is on the horizon for our newly minted couple. But for me, and crazy cat ladies across the globe, it’s ALL ABOUT THE CAT.
Honestly, this is the whole movie. Holly’s husband, brother, fiance? All totally inconsequential to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s about the cat. Sally Tomato, the 5 and dime robbery, Patricia Neal? They mean squat. It’s all about the cat. It’s all just leading up to that one super-charged emotional moment when Audrey scoops Cat up in her arms and gives her a “I should never have tossed you out of the cab, you wonderful feline” gigantic smooshy hug.
And THAT makes it a happy ending. George could have slipped and fell in the rain, got hit by a cab and ended up in the ER right before the credits rolled. As long as Cat is out of the rain, and reunited with Audrey Hepburn, I’m a happy camper.”
I watched a startingly good film with Etto yesterday and discovered the sparkling brilliance of Jean Luc Godard’s ‘French New Wave’ for the cinema! It is now one of my favourite films and I am so intrigued by the director and the style of directing-very fresh, chic and playful. The comedy, the actors, the asides and the continuation of a music and tone, all these were captured with a refined merriment and the energy never let down. With the themes and the stark confidence of characters, it could have been camp, but instead the director gently steers it to brilliance.
The plot is actually very simple. Angela,a striptease artist, wants to have a baby and tries to persuade her boyfriend Emile to go along with the idea. Emile will have none of it so she goes after Emile’s friend Alfred.
Can you do what a woman does, Irving? We shall try when you come (note above for reference).
I am also SMITTENED by this song from the movie soundtrack:
Tu t’laisses aller by Charles Aznavour.
C’est drôle ce que t’es drôle à regarder / It’s funny how funny you are to look at T’es là, t’attends, tu fais la tête / You’re there, you wait, you’re sulking Et moi j’ai envie d’rigoler / And I feel like sneering C’est l’alcool qui monte en ma tête / It’s the alcohol that gets to my head Tout l’alcool que j’ai pris ce soir / All the alcohol that I took this evening Afin d’y puiser le courage / So that I could draw the courage De t’avouer que j’en ai marr’ / To admit that I have had it De toi et de tes commérages / with you and your old wives’ tales De ton corps qui me laisse sage / with your body that leaves me virtuous Et qui m’enlève tout espoir / and takes away all of my hopesJ’en ai assez faut bien qu’j’te l’dise / I’ve had enough I have to tell you Tu m’exaspèr’s, tu m’tyrannises / You irritate me, you tyrannize me Je subis ton sal’caractèr / I endure your dirty character Sans oser dir’ que t’exagèr’s / I don’t dare to tell you you exaggerate Oui t’exagèr’s, tu l’sais maint’nant / Yes, you exaggerate, you know it now Parfois je voudrais t’étrangler / At times, I would strangle you Dieu que t’as changé en cinq ans / God you have changed in five years Tu l’laisses aller, Tu l’laisses aller / You let yourself go, you let yourself goAh ! tu es belle à regarder / Ah! you’re beautiful to look at Tes bas tombant sur tes chaussures / your sagged stockings on your shoes Et ton vieux peignoir mal fermé / With your old nightgown badly closed Et tes bigoudis quelle allure / And your curling pins what an elegance Je me demande chaque jour / I ask myself every day Comment as-tu fait pour me plaire / How did you do to please me Comment ai-j’ pu te faire la cour / How could I ever court you Et t’aliéner ma vie entière / Give up my whole life for you Comm’ ça tu ressembles à ta mère / That way you look like your mother Qu’a rien pour inspirer l’amour / Who has nothing to inspire love
D’vant mes amis quell’ catastroph’ / In front of my friends what a disaster Tu m’contredis, tu m’apostrophes / You contradict me, cut me short Avec ton venin et ta hargne / With your venom and your petulance Tu ferais battre des montagnes / You’d make the mountains fight Ah ! j’ai décroché le gros lot / Ah! I drew the first prize Le jour où je t’ai rencontrée / The day that I met you Si tu t’taisais, ce s’rait trop beau / If you kept quiet, ‘t would be too nice Tu l’laisses aller, Tu l’laisses aller / You let yourself go, you let yourself go
Tu es un’brute et un tyran / You are a brute and a tyrant Tu n’as pas de cœur et pas d’âme / You have no heart and no soul Pourtant je pense bien souvent / Nevertheless I often think Que malgré tout tu es ma femme / That in spite of everything you’re still my wife Si tu voulais faire un effort / If you would make an effort Tout pourrait reprendre sa place / Everything could fall back into place Pour maigrir fais un peu de sport / To slim down practice some sport arranges-toi devant ta glace / Make yourself up in the mirror Accroche un sourire à ta face / Put a smile on your face Maquille ton cœur et ton corps / Make up your heart and your body
Au lieu d’penser que j’te déteste / Instead of thinking how I detest you Et de me fuir comme la peste / And avoiding me like the plague Essaie de te montrer gentille / Try to be nice Redeviens la petite fille / Become that little girl again Qui m’a donné tant de bonheur / Who gave me so much happiness Et parfois comm’ par le passé / And sometimes like in the past J’aim’rais que tout contre mon cœur / I would love that close to my heart Tu l’laisses aller, Tu l’laisses aller / You let yourself go, you let yourself go
Wiki: Jean-Luc Godard; born 3 December 1930) is a French-Swiss film director, screen writer and critic. He is often identified with the group of filmmakers known as the Nouvelle Vague, or “New Wave”.
Many of Godard’s films challenge the conventions of traditional Hollywood cinema as well as the French equivalent, namely the “tradition of quality”.[1] He is often considered the most extreme or radical of the New Wave filmmakers. His films express his political ideologies as well as his knowledge of film history. In addition, Godard’s films often cite existentialism as he was an avid reader of existential and Marxist philosophy.
After attending school in Nyon, Godard returned to Paris in 1948. It was there, in the Latin Quarter just prior to 1950, that Paris ciné-clubs were gaining prominence. Godard began attending these clubs, where he soon met the man who was perhaps most responsible for the birth of the New Wave, André Bazin, as well as those who would become his contemporaries, including Jacques Rivette, Claude Chabrol, François Truffaut, Jacques Rozier, and Jacques Demy. Godard was part of a generation for whom cinema took on a special importance. He has said; “In the 1950s cinema was as important as bread — but it isn’t the case any more. We thought cinema would assert itself as an instrument of knowledge, a microscope … a telescope. … At the Cinémathèque I discovered a world which nobody had spoken to me about. They’d told us about Goethe, but not Dreyer. … We watched silent films in the era of talkies. We dreamed about film. We were like Christians in the catacombs.”
Despite its intricate manifesto, the guiding principle behind the movement was that “Realism is the essence of cinema.” According to Bazin and other members of the New Wave, cinematic realism could be achieved through various aesthetic and contextual media. They favored long shots that embodied a more complete scene, where visual information could be transmitted consistently, and avoided “unnecessary editing”; they did not want to disrupt the illusion of reality by constant cuts. This technique can be seen in some of Godard’s most celebrated sequences, though there are equally famous sequences in his films featuring fastcutting, especially those where jump cuts proliferate.
An interesting aspect of Godard’s philosophy on filmmaking was his inherent and deliberate embrace of contradiction. In short, Godard used “mass-market” aesthetics in his film to make a statement about capitalism and consequent societal decline.
Running through the Louvre…An animation excerpted from Jean-Luc Godard’s 1964 movie Bande a Part (Band of Outsiders). The three main characters cross Le Louvre Museum by running. In 2003, Bertolucci’s Dreamers (Louis Garrel, Eva Green and Michael Pitt) defeated their record.
As I was watching, I kept telling Etto, Anna Karina looks like Maria Callas!!
After seeing Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil at the Expo 58, Godard was influenced to make his first major feature film, Breathless (À bout de souffle, 1960), starring Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jean Seberg. The film distinctly expressed the French New Wave’s style, and incorporated quotations from several elements of popular culture — specifically American cinema. The film employed various innovative techniques such as jump cuts, character asides and breaking the eyeline match rule in Continuity editing. François Truffaut, who co-wrote Breathless with Godard, suggested its concept and introduced Godard to the producer who ultimately funded the film, Georges de Beauregard.
From the beginning of his career, Godard crammed more film references into his movies than any of his New Wave colleagues. In Breathless, his citations include a movie poster showing Humphrey Bogart (whose expression the lead actor Jean-Paul Belmondo tries reverently to imitate); visual quotations from films of Ingmar Bergman, Samuel Fuller, Fritz Lang, and others; and an onscreen dedication to Monogram Pictures, an American B-movie studio. Most of all, the choice of Jean Seberg as the lead actress was an overarching reference to Otto Preminger, who had discovered her for his Saint Joan, and then cast her in his acidulous 1958 adaptation of Bonjour Tristesse. If, in Rohmer’s words, “life was the cinema”, then a film filled with movie references was supremely autobiographical.
The following year, Godard made Le Petit Soldat, which dealt with the Algerian War of Independence. Most notably, it was the first collaboration between Godard and Danish-born actress Anna Karina, whom he later married in 1961 (and divorced in 1967). The film, due to its political nature, was banned by the French government until January 1963. Karina appeared again, along with Belmondo, in A Woman Is a Woman (1961), intended as a homage to the American musical. Angela (Karina) desires a child, prompting her to pretend to leave her boyfriend (Jean-Claude Brialy) and make him jealous by pursuing his best friend (Belmondo) as a substitute.
Godard’s next film, Vivre sa vie (1962), was one of his most popular among critics. Karina starred as Nana, an errant mother and aspiring actress whose financially straitened circumstances lead her to the life of a streetwalker. It is an episodic account of her rationalizations to prove she is free, even though she is tethered at the end of her pimp’s short leash. In one touching scene in a cafe, she spreads her arms out and announces she is free to raise or lower them as she wishes. The film’s style, much like that of Breathless, boasted the type of camera-liberated experimentation that made the French New Wave so influential.
Godard’s engagement with German poet and playwright Bertolt Brecht stems primarily from his attempt to transpose Brecht’s theory of epic theatre and its prospect of alienating the viewer (Verfremdungseffekt) through a radical separation of the elements of the medium (in Brecht’s case theater, but in Godard’s, film). Brecht’s influence is keenly felt through much of Godard’s work, particularly before 1980, when Godard used filmic expression for specific political ends.
For example, Breathless’ elliptical editing, which denies the viewer a fluid narrative typical of mainstream cinema, forces the viewers to take on more critical roles, connecting the pieces themselves and coming away with more investment in the work’s content.[citation needed] Godard also employs other devices, including asynchronous sound and alarming title frames, with perhaps his favorite being the character aside. In many of his most political pieces, specifically Week End, Pierrot le fou, and La Chinoise, characters address the audience with thoughts, feelings, and instructions.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."
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Penny Sparkle 