Film-Philosophy

Journal | Salon | Portal (ISSN 1466-4615)

Vol. 6 No. 30, September 2002

 

 

Marcia Landy

 

Godard: Thinking Media

 

 

David Sterritt

_The Films of Jean-Luc Godard: Seeing the Invisible_

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999

ISBN 0521580382 (hb) 0521589711 (pb)

297 pp.

 

Jean-Luc Godard is not a superannuated and historical relic to be consigned to the pages of cinema history. In fact, as Michael Temple and James S. Williams recently noted, 'the real Jean-Luc Godard has never stopped working and has patiently elaborated a body of work that is truly rich and strange, and as ambitious, diverse and inspiring as anything he produced in his supposed 1960s heyday'. [1] His prodigious productivity and the growing interest in his work can be accounted for by the philosophical subjects under his attention:

 

'autobiography and memory in film; age and melancholia; twentieth-century history and historiography; the fate of European art and culture; the relation between aesthetics and identity; ethics and philosophy; the nature and status of authorship and literature; the evolution of the visual image from painting to film and video; speed and technology; and videographic montage as a new poetics'. [2]

 

This extensive list is a daunting challenge to any critic who would undertake an examination of Godard's essays and films -- even a review of the books and articles written about him. Perhaps the only way to address these concerns is to subsume them in the context of a relationship between media, philosophy, and politics. Increasingly, film critics have pushed the boundaries of film analysis to explore these relationships, and David Sterritt's _The Films of Jean-Luc Godard; Seeing the Invisible_, in the Cambridge Film Classics series, is an instance of a recent attempt to situate Godard's work on media within a broader philosophical, if not political milieu. The Preface to Sterritt's book describes the texts published in the series as 'a forum for revisionist studies of the classic works of the cinematic canon from the perspective of the new auteurism, which recognizes that films emerge from a complex interaction of bureaucratic, technological, intellectual, cultural, and personal forces'. Sterritt's study of Godard focuses particularly on the intellectual, cultural, and personal forces that characterize the filmmaker's treatment of media.

 

Through an introductory chapter that maps Godard's philosophic investments in media, followed by a close examination of six films -- three from the 1960s: _Breathless_ (1960), _My Life to Live_ (1962), and _Weekend_ (1967); one from each of the subsequent decades: _Numero deux_ (1975), _Hail Mary_ (1985), and _Nouvelle Vague_ (1990) -- and ending with a brief chapter on television and media, Sterritt orchestrates dominant aspects of Godard's filmmaking. While the book does not present itself as a systematic study of contemporary philosophy, it does describe the films in formal terms so as to enable the reader to situate Godard within the context of twentieth century philosophy, and particularly of critical work on media. Having written on Godard's work recently, with especial focus on the character of this filmmaker as philosopher, [3] I intend in this review to examine Sterritt's assumption that, after the 1960s, Godard's filmmaking 'became less overtly ideological, replacing its passion for political issues with a focus on aesthetic and spiritual matters' (10). It has become customary to regard Godard's more recent films films as departing from the politics of the 60s and yet, to my way of thinking, Godard has never abandoned his investigation of politics, though his intellectual and stylistic strategies have been attuned to changes in the political and cultural landscape.

 

Certainly, Godard, like many of his radical contemporaries, retreated from the traditional confrontational cine-politics of the 1960s to explore more deeply, in ways reminiscent of Deleuze's and Derrida's work, forms of thought and belief that can account for the powerful sway of common sense, and at the same time point the way to jamming cliched responses to representation. His politics have not ceased to be focused on media, but his strategies are directed at philosophic concerns that focus on the necessity, yet impossibility, of restoring belief in the world and in the people to come. Thus, politics is not reliant on pre-existing conceptions of the people 'as identical with the ineluctable unfolding of history', as D. N. Rodowick put it. [4] In fact, the task of a different politics is now to seek different conceptions of the people, or better yet to bring them into existence. Toward that end new tools of thought are necessary, and reflection on the nature and impact of media is the instrument for such an exploration.

 

What makes Godard's media work challenging is its incisively critical preoccupation with history. Godard has consistently challenged reductive, programmed, and naive conceptions and practices of media that are tied to the intertwined economic and ideological forces of capital. His work confronts the complex obstacles in the way of recognizing multivalent and non-reductive conceptions of time, memory, and history as they are conveyed through media representation. Foremost among these impediments is the tendency to regard representation as identical to truth. As Sterritt writes in his Introduction:

 

'Godard's importance as a cinematic rebel comes not from his reconfigurations of film and video form per se, but from the way his dissections and reshufflings interact with the subjects he chooses to explore. One of these subjects is always cinema itself; the others change as he moves from one stage to another. What remains consistent, however, is his deep-seated desire to refute two ideas taken for granted by the vast majority of filmmakers: a) that cinema captures a 'direct' and somehow 'natural' view of the world and that b) cinema's standard psychological devices are somehow equivalent with *human nature* and thus provide accurate commonsensical insights that can be accepted and enjoyed at face value.' (20-21)

 

In careful, detailed, and sensitive analysis of Godard's films, Sterritt probes the philosophic and aesthetic implications of Godard's relentless exploration of the cinematic image as a medium for common sense, and as a possibility for jamming automatic responses to representation so as to allow for the possibility of thought. Sterritt suggests (as in the above quotation and in the chronological choice of films) that Godard has moved from 'one stage to another'. Through detailed analysis of each film, Sterritt seeks to identify transformations that have characterized these various 'stages' of Godard's works. In contrast, I believe that Godard has been obsessed, albeit in changing fashion from his first to his most recent films, with questions concerning the possibility of cinema for thinking on questions of culture and politics as they are imbricated in questions of history, memory, fiction, truth, language, painting, and music. Current cultural and political analysts have re-conceptualized the economic and political character of the last decades of the 20th century under the rubric of *postmodernism* and *globality*. And Godard, through his encyclopaedic knowledge of media and its history, and his consistent situating of cultural production within international economic and ideological contexts, has pursued his cine-political explorations of the image into the lairs of late capitalism. In _The Geopolitical Aesthetic_ Fredric Jameson has identified the particularly 'global' nature of Godard's more recent work, especially _Passion_ (1982). Jameson writes:

 

'Godard's strategy is to pose the strongest possible objection to the medium -- to foreground its most urgent crises, beginning with that of financing itself, omnipresent in these late films and above all here -- in order the more triumphantly to surmount them.' [5]

 

Seeking to situate the philosophic sources of Godard's work in and on cinema, Sterritt yokes the filmmaker's name to that of Michel Foucault, and to Foucault's concern with 'power/knowledge relationships', and writes:

 

'If knowledge and power are closely intertwined, as Foucault contends; and if cinema replicates information and ideas with unprecedented efficiency, as Godard contends, then no ethical filmmaker could maintain a clear conscience without keeping a critical eye on the impact made by cinematic works -- especially the filmmaker's own -- on the world in which they're unleashed.' (21)

 

Thus, Sterritt argues, Godard's critical eye is focused on the strategies of cinema as it presents transparent and seemingly accurate representations of the world, seeking relentlessly to expose the stratagems of the prison house of language, making evident different possibilities 'so real rethinking and renewal can begin' (26).

 

Sterritt analyzes each of the six films he has chosen to discuss with an eye to identifying the different ways in which Godard's cine-critique is elaborated. For example, in the discussion of _Breathless_, he singles out the ways in which the film explores 'reconciling personal will with existence in a world that is at once intricately social, profoundly subjective, and utterly irrational in the long run' (51). Stressing the importance of place enables Godard to probe relations between character and environment -- a homage to an abiding historical figure in Godard's films: Roberto Rossellini. Equally important, not only to _Breathless_ but also to later films, are the ways (beyond mere quotation) that the film explores and deepens the problematic relations between fiction and fact -- and even more between politics and aesthetics. Sterritt regards the relation between character and action and landscape as central to the film, but the traditional conception of character is subject to disintegration, examined as an invention, and the task is to understand the terms and conditions of their construction. Godard pries open what Deleuze has called the 'movement-image' to describe the workings of pre-World War II cinema, with its organic view of the world, and where action, not time, governed the narrative.

 

In the chapter on _My Life to Live_, through his invocation of Bertolt Brecht's work, Sterritt introduces another dimension of Godard's filmmaking, what I would identify as Godard's 'pedagogical' conception of the cinematic image. This pedagogy can, in part, be traced to the writings and theater of Brecht and his conception of epic theater, exemplified by the episodic style of _My Life to Live_, its organization into twelve tableaux, as well as its heightened and stylized theatricality. Sterritt focuses on the various tableaux as a means of reinforcing the motif in the film of vain and reductive conceptions of interiority, authenticity, and affect. For example, Sterritt writes that,

 

'Godard recognizes that externals are all the camera and sound recorder can grasp, and that such outward signs -- superficial by definition -- may seem sadly inadequate if one is looking for the *inner selves* of psychologically defined characters . . . The externals captured by cinema can be highly suggestive if one accepts the notion that inner selves are inseparable from the external actions that they trace on the world around them.' (65-66)

 

The chapter, building on the previous one, extends the discussion of Godard's ongoing and interconnected uses of milieu, cinematic quotation, the female (and the cinematic) body and prostitution, and problematic questions concerning verbal and cinematic language. The film's pedagogy relies on the various strategies to complicate prevailing conceptions of truth and falsehood that are subsumed in a strict dichotomy between realism and artifice and need to be rendered more undecidable. In his philosophic writings on cinema, Gilles Deleuze offers insights into Godard's pedagogical conception of the cinematic image. Deleuze wrote that, after World War II: 'The cinema is going to become an analytic of the image, implying a new conception of cutting, a whole *pedagogy* which will operate in different ways.' [6] This pedagogy requires careful attention. It is not a polemic or a method for reading 'truth' through the image, since the image is, in Godard's words, 'just an image'. Godard's pedagogy involves formalism insofar as the spectator must become aware of the image, must regard and understand the image as image, and hence as a means of rethinking how cinema relies on perception and memory.

 

Through enhancing the possibility of mutual work on the part of the filmmaker and the spectator, Godard's films seeks, through memory and intelligence, to unveil 'the untruth of truth' (to borrow from Nietzsche) of the image. Deleuze will describe this process as an encounter with the 'powers of the false':

 

'Truthful narration is developed organically, according to legal connections in time and space and chronological relations in time. Of course, the elsewhere may be close to the here, and the former to the present. But this variability of place and movements does not call the relations and connections into question. They rather determine its terms or elements, so that narration implies an inquiry and testimonies that connect it to the true . . . Falsifying narration, by contrast frees itself from this system . . . The point is that the elements themselves are constantly changing with the relations of time into which they enter, and the terms with their connections . . . The power of the false exists only from the perspective of a series of powers, always referring to each other and passing into one another. So that investigators, witnesses and innocent or guilty heroes will participate in the same power of the false the degrees of which they will embody, at each stage of the narration. Even *the truthful man ends up realizing that he has never stopped lying* as Nietzsche said.' [7]

 

In other words, Godard's films are not designed to produce an interpretation of the correct meaning of the images that add up to an immutable sense of the real, of truth, and of a comprehensible totality. In Godard's work, the film becomes conceptual, that is, it becomes a theory of cinema that is also a philosophy. This 'theory of cinema',

 

'is not 'about' cinema, but about the concepts that cinema gives rise to and which are themselves related to other concepts corresponding to other practices . . . The great cinema authors are like the great painters or the great musicians: it is they who talk about what they do. But in talking they become philosophers or theoreticians . . . we must no longer ask ourselves, 'What is cinema?' but 'What is philosophy?' [8]

 

_Weekend_ is a film that would seem to pose both of these questions. In relation to the status of cinema, the film, for James Roy MacBean, equals a 'dead-end', 'not for Godard and not for cinema, but for a particular type of cinema -- the cinema of spectacle &endash; which is pushed to its limit'; but the film does not restrict itself to the 'death' of cinema, but yokes cinematic to philosophic concerns in its relentless exploration of 'the disintegration of civilization'. [9] Invoking Artaud's 'Theater of Cruelty' and Brecht's 'Dialectical Theater', MacBean examines Godard's method for connecting and reconfiguring cinema and philosophy. Toward similar ends, Sterritt invokes Julia Kristeva and Bakhtin to describe the clash of elements that characterize what he describes as 'Godard's filmmaking strategy, whereby the virtue of freedom -- that is, a liberated cinema -- must be born from a violent, take-no-prisoners assault on *slavery* to classical style and conventional narrative' (106). Sterritt describes the film's climactic eruption into cannibalism in terms of Kristeva's notion of abjection and perhaps also of Bakhtin's conception of the carnivalesque. For Godard, the revolutionary's desire is similar to the bourgeois's -- to assimilate the informational and technological apparatus of American society -- and, as such, is cannibalistic. Thus, in this film, Godard undermines both the media-ted images of the bourgeoisie, as well as of the revolutionary, regarding each as participating in discourses that mirror each other and do not open the way to rethinking culture and politics.

 

Sterritt's regards _Weekend_ as portraying 'a civilization turned upside down and inside out, wherein life and death, beauty and horror, reality and illusion become heedlessly confounded with their opposites' (128). His description of the film is reminiscent of Deleuze's observations on the film (in a chapter entitled 'Cinema and Thought'). According to Deleuze:

 

'The formula in _Weekend_, *it's not blood, it's red*, signifies that blood has ceased to be a harmonic of red, and that this red is the unique tone of blood. One must speak and show literally, or else not show and speak at all. If, according to ready-made formulas, the revolutionaries are at our doors, besieging us like cannibals, they must be shown in the scrub of Seine-et-Oise, eating human flesh. If bankers are killers, schoolchildren prisoners, photographers pimps, if the workers are being screwed by their bosses, this has to be shown not to *metaphorized*.' [10]

 

Presenting _Numero deux_ as representative of Godard's filmmaking of the 1970s, Sterritt continues his discussion in the context of Godard's ongoing investigations of the role and fate of the cinematic image. Sterritt selects this film, the first of many of Godard's succeeding collaborations with Anne-Marie Mieville, because it is a 'complex exploration of the relationships between man and woman, labor and leisure, domesticity and society, and -- perhaps above all -- film and video, media that encapsulate his [Godard's] twin fascinations with the heritage of Western art and the still-uncharted directions in which its electronic future may lie' (38). The film does not suggest that Godard has veered away from political concerns. However, it does reveal Godard's awareness of socio-political and cultural changes that were transpiring in the mid-70s. In particular, media issues, particularly the role of television, reportage, and information had moved to the front and center of social life, posing a challenge to traditional conceptions of confrontational politics. Moreover, the proliferation of new media raised new despair as well as new hope for cultural transformation. Orchestrating a number of motifs in Godard's treatment of contemporary culture, Sterritt asserts that,

 

'_Numero deux_ aims to analyze and criticize a number of interlocking phenomena: the home, where children must cope with such daunting existential challenges as the primal scene and other parental mysteries; the educational system, which ill prepares them for present or future tasks; the industrial world, where people's lives are not their own; the government which uses and abuses us; and the mass media, including the film and video technologies used to make _Numero deux_ itself.' (140)

 

Citing the work of Georges Bataille and his conception of heterology, Sterritt stresses this film's unrelenting focus on the transgression of familiar boundaries while at the same time revealing blockages to gratification. Returning also to Kristeva and her elaboration on abjection and its boundary-less character, Sterritt suggests that _Numero deux_ not only explores and undermines conventional images of the body but also 'embodies the ambivalence of a young medium (video) caught within its parent medium (film) at precisely the moment when its newly acquired powers, purposes, and sensibilities are ready to assert themselves but are still uncertain as to what their own distinctiveness and usefulness might be' (145). Increasingly in his work with Mieville, Godard will contemplate the death of cinema, and certainly of national cinema, and will strive to locate possibilities in video; however the abiding concern will be to challenge the prevailing character of representation.

 

_Hail Mary_ offers a powerful instance of both the continuity of Godard's intellectual concerns and of the changing forms with which he chooses to challenge commonsense versions of the world. The discussion of this film is the longest in Sterritt's volume as he meticulously traces the multiple lines of Mieville and Godard's joint project. In examining the film's recourse to such recurrent images as the mouth, as well as other body openings, Sterritt deftly identifies the transmogrifications that take place in the film, between the body and spirit, the individual and the cosmos, interiority and exteriority, and the sacred and the profane. However, as might be expected, the film does not present the viewer with traditional religion or with traditional cinema. Instead, as Sterritt indicates,

 

'the web of images is difficult to parse, but one could hardly expect it to be otherwise, since, after all, the aim of the _Hail Mary_ films is to explore the unshowable and unsayable, through an artistic medium that takes showing (picture, montage) and saying (sound, narrative) as basic principles. One must remember that much of Godard's cinema (especially his later work) rests on the paradoxical hypothesis that our existential environment has a dual nature. On one level, it is a material realm that can be known by the five senses and recorded by cinematic technologies. On another level, it is the shadow or veil of a spiritual dimension that is imperceptible to our senses and impenetrable to our conscious thoughts. Attempting to manifest the immaterial through material (filmic) devices can lead only to eminently ambiguous results.' (217-218)

 

Sterritt's description of the relationship between the seen and the unseen, and of the mysterious character of thought in Godard's later films, is echoed by Laetitia Fieschi-Vivet in her discussion of another Godard film, _Oh Woe Is Me_ (_Helas pour moi_, 1993). In particular with reference to Godard's attitudes toward history, she comments that: 'the reason why there is something hindering the power of sight in the film is because it is impossible for the historical approach to provide a complete vision of the past'; moreover, 'the invisible something can be said to acquire a virtual body but only thanks to elements that remain obscure and unknown'. [11] A particular motif that has haunted all of Godard's work is the question of memory, a motif intimately tied to his resistance to common sense and cliche and to his attempts to rethink the character of history.

 

This preoccupation with memory in Godard's films has an antecedent in the history of the nouvelle vague filmmakers and critics. It is in part derived from Bazin and the _Cahiers du cinema_ group insofar as they, like Roberto Rossellini, regarded the experience of cinema as 'more profound than mere understanding'. [12] As with Bazin's writings on cinema, Godard's films -- past and present -- have an affinity with Henri Bergson's distinction (in relation to memory) between two kinds of recognition: automatic, and habitual or attentive. Of this distinction, Bergson wrote:

 

'if the idea is to live, it must touch reality on some side, that is to say, it must be able, from step to step, and by progressive diminutions or contractions of itself, to be more or less acted by the body at the same time that it is thought by the mind. Our body, with the sensations it receives on the one hand, is then, that which fixes our mind, and gives it ballast and poise. The activity of the mind goes far beyond the mass of accumulated memories, as this mass of memories itself is infinitely more than the sensations and movements of the present hour, but these sensations and these movements condition what we may term our attention to life, and that is why everything depends on their cohesion in the normal work of the mind . . .'. [13]

 

As in the writings of Deleuze on cinema -- also heavily dependent on Bergson's writings on forms of memory, and on the dynamic possibilities of the time-image in contradistinction to the automatic and cliched character of the movement-image -- Godard's abiding concern with the debilitating but also creative dimensions of the past have centered on investigating modes for jamming sensory-motor, commonsensical responses to images in the interests of arriving at a more critical relation to the past and to questions of sameness and difference. For example, in _For Ever Mozart_ (1997), the allusion to Ravel's _Bolero_ as fatal carries one of the film's important questions: 'Is the history of Europe in the 1990s a simple rehearsal with slight symphonic variation of the chaos and cowardice of the 1930s . . . a dreadful unending _Bolero_ by Ravel?' The invocation of the Ravel piece as an exemplary musical instance of repetition with slight variation offers one version of art that remains limited and confined to the endless conflict between the machinic and the chaotic, suggesting a certain determinism and inevitability. Mozart's music, however, is tied, like the image of the sky in the film, to a form of dreaming or imagination that cinema can evoke, suggesting a vision of difference, of constant movement and of playfulness.

 

In the context of music, Mozart (and the young man dressed as Mozart) in the film provides a contrast to the crass forms of filmmaking, dramatized in one of the film's segments. The film ends with an image of his musical script, signifying the necessity of turning the page, and of movement rather than stasis and closure -- all attributes of Godard's conception of the cinematic image, an image that elevates the dynamism of memory over the fixity of official history. Similar to _Oh Woe Is Me_, _For Ever Mozart_ is immersed in relations between past and present as they involve political events (the Spanish Civil War and the War in Bosnia), memories of fascism, memories of cinema, and questions of objectivity. But in Godard, as Deleuze notes,

 

'the distinction between subjective and objective . . . tends to lose its importance . . . We run into a principle of indeterminability, of indiscernibility: we no longer know what is imaginary or real, physical nor mental, in the situation, not because they are confused, but because we do not have to know and there is no longer a place from which to ask. It is as if the real and imaginary were running after each other, as if each was being reflected in the other, around a point of indiscernibility . . . The imaginary and real become indiscernible.' [14]

 

In his penultimate chapter, Sterritt addresses the role of memory in Godard through a discussion of a film that has received minimal critical attention: _Nouvelle Vague_. The discussion validates how, in Godard's work, indiscernibility between the imaginary and the real are central to every aspect of the filmmaker's investigations of cinema. Sterritt claims:

 

'Thinking of _Nouvelle Vague_ as a memory movie helps explain such characteristics as the vividness of its images -- the mind's eye sometimes sees long-past recollections in amazing detail -- and the emotional charge that these images carry, quite apart from the incidents and encounters that they contain and convey. Considering the film as an exercise in memory also sheds light on the arbitrariness with which the images relate to one another. Like dreams, memories often follow a non-logic of their own; given Godard's lifelong interest in escaping the limits of logic and rationality, it is not surprising that he would eventually use the prerogatives of memory to anchor an entire work.' (230)

 

Appropriately, Sterritt's discussion of the six films has come to rest on the issue of memory and, as Sterritt suggests, in helping to account for an understanding of the arbitrariness of image relationships. Through the time-image, Godard is able to juxtapose personal recollection with the artistic past of cinema, thus elaborating on his ongoing resistance to the fixity of naming and meaning in his battle against what Deleuze has described as the ubiquity of the cliche, seeking to animate attentive memory and permit the viewer 'to see what time is capable of', as Jonathon Dronsfield put it. [15] In this respect, video appears to be, as Sterritt and others have asserted, a congenial medium for Godard's experimentation, permitting him to pursue his 'longtime fascination with spontaneous creation and (always at the top of his agenda) challenging commonsense notions of socially productive art, entertainment, and communication' (249).

 

Sterritt's study conforms to much of the recent work on Godard that links the filmmaker to major questions concerning old and new media. Particularly admirable is the way in which Sterritt is able to thread his way through the very difficult films and bring new insights to bear on their form and on the character of Godard's philosophic investigations of the image. In particular, the lengthy and nuanced discussion of _Hail Mary_ sheds light on obscure features of the film, and also brings to the surface the complexity and depth of Godard's philosophic investment in media. One of the advantages of having selected only six films to discuss is the opportunity to appreciate the intricacies of Godard's style, his encyclopaedic range of allusion and quotation, and the philosophic source and nature of his concerns. While the book does introduce a discussion of his other films, including those from 1991 to 2000, I missed the opportunity to engage with the complexities of such films as _For Ever Mozart_ and particularly _Histoire(s) du cinema_ (1989-1997). Sterritt does make reference to these films, and much of what he says can shed light on these later films, but nonetheless I find the selections a contradiction in a work that seeks to establish the ongoing vitality and importance of Godard's media work.

 

Another troubling aspect of this extremely well researched, well written, knowledgeable, and eminently readable book, is its too easy dismissal of politics in Godard's work after the 1960s. The Godard that emerges from Sterritt's study -- even in his discussion of the films of the 1960s -- seems cleansed of politics. In this context, it was surprising to me that James Roy MacBean's _Film and Revolution_ was not even cited. In Sterritt, the political Godard has given way to Godard the philosopher and metaphysician, thus downplaying the import of Godard's ongoing concern to challenge the cultural and political impact of cinema, television, and media. Nonetheless, _The Films of Jean-Luc Godard_ holds a veritable cornucopia of ideas on the dynamic character of Godard's filmmaking, and his pre-eminent role as an analyst of culture.

 

University of Pittsburgh

Pennsylvania, USA

 

 

Footnotes

 

1. Michael Temple and James S. Williams, 'Introduction', in Temple and Williams, eds, _The Cinema Alone: Essays on the Work of Jean-Luc Godard, 1985-2000_ (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2000), p. 9.

 

2. Ibid., p. 11.

 

3. Marcia Landy, ''Just an Image': Godard, Cinema and Philosophy', _Critical Quarterly_, vol. 43 no. 3, Autumn 2001, pp. 9-34.

 

4. D. N. Rodowick, _Gilles Deleuze's Time Machine_ (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997), p. 152.

 

5. Fredric Jameson, _The Geopolitical Aesthetic: Cinema and Space in the World System_ (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992), p. 159.

 

6. Gilles Deleuze, _Cinema 2: The Time-Image_, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989), p. 22.

 

7. Ibid., p. 133.

 

8. Ibid., p. 280.

 

9. See James Roy MacBean, _Film and Revolution_ (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1975), p. 45.

 

10. Deleuze, _Cinema 2_, pp. 182-183.

 

11. Laetitia Fieschi-Vivet, 'Investigation of a Mystery: Cinema and the Sacred in _Helas pour moi_', in _The Cinema Alone_, p. 190.

 

12. Tag Gallagher, _The Adventures of Roberto Rossellini_ (New York: Da Capo, 1998), p. 430.

 

13. Henri Bergson, _Matter and Memory_, trans. Nancy Margaret Paul (New York: Zone Books, 1991), p. 173.

 

14. Deleuze, _Cinema 2_, p. 7.

 

15. Jonathon Dronsfield, 'The Present Never Exists There: The Temporality of Decision in Godard's Later Film and Video Essays', in _The Cinema Alone_, p. 62.

 

 

Copyright © _Film-Philosophy_ 2002

 

Marcia Landy, 'Godard: Thinking Media', _Film-Philosophy_, vol. 6 no. 30, September 2002 <http://www.film-philosophy.com/vol6-2002/n30landy>.

 

 

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