I am at a loss for words. But through your peripheral vision you can tell that I didn’t stop writing after that statement. No, in fact…you can tell that I conversely became quite verbose. So therefore the figure of speech was misleading. Perhaps that is why Godard came to distrust language. Who is Jean-Luc Godard?
And what does it matter? This rhetorical device propels my analysis, yet the reader is more or less free to comment at the end of the article. More or less. Derrida. Deconstruct at the weakest link in the logical chain. Find where the text contradicts itself. It is like a pivot chord in a musical modulation. Napoleon would charge with all of his forces. More or less.
The reason I express myself in this way is because, for me, film criticism is akin to ekphrasis. Therefore, poetry. As much as we want to be historians or scholars or social scientists, we must accept that we are really just poets. Just.
Finally a title which meshes with my theme. It’s not my theme, yet I have chosen it. Vertigo. It rejects diacritical marks…just as Shirley cards rejected the negro. Godard realized this in Africa. Filming. The film had been optimized for white actors.
With all of these tangents it is a wonder that anyone makes it to the end of these ekphrastic rants. Rambling rants. Off-topic. Hot topic. Napalm. Curtis LeMay. Stone Age.
It occurs to me that I could very well play the reactionary, yet conscience intercedes. Pax Americana. No. I cannot justify it. I will leave it to the Navy…”a global force for good.”
It was wise that they finally discarded such a ridiculous motto. Perhaps no one was buying it. Sell war. Buy war.
It is easy to get caught up in all of the James Bond gadgetry and thereby forget Vietnam.. Forget Iraq. Forget Afghanistan. Libya. Syria.
For me there is no difference between the Brookings Institution and the American Enterprise Institute. Pepsi and Coke. Perhaps one is a little worse than the other. They fundamentally define one another. A dialectic. Hegel. Kant. Fichte.
If I know one thing, it’s…a thesis. If you knew better, you’d…antithesis. Bon. C’est tout. …ou 3: synthesis.
Jean-Luc Godard dropped out of the University of Paris. It is credited as his alma mater on Wikipedia. The Sorbonne.
This was before Hanne Karin Bayer became Anna Karina: Godard’s first wife and leading lady. But now we have Marina Vlady. Made in Russia.
I get a text. Putin missing. I had seen. DEBKAfile. Approximately one million spots lower than my website on Alexa.
No, they will never give up on trying to impose order on the chaos of Finnegans Wake. It is sheer egotism. And I am the antithesis: no plot, no characters.
And what of the synthesis? Yes, you must reread and rewatch to uncover the nuances. Godard’s oeuvre is one long statement. Miss a film and you’ve missed a chapter of his life–a phrase in his grand statement. Certainly. Certainly. Maybe.
“The comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.” From the basement Bob Dylan nailed it: modern life as comic book. Obverse and reverse. Godard and Dylan.
All I have is cat food. You have seven minutes left. Three left.
Anny Duperey looks perfect…perfectly empty…staring off into space…smoking the ubiquitous cigarette. The Shirley card loves her. She shines. She is radiance. Might she be the next! big! thing?
It is with a heavy heart…that I relate that no, indeed, rather, Juliet Berto…for some time.
And thus our grand unstated theme: cancer. Like the hideous sound of jungle helicopters–desert jets. Division. Long division.
Juliet Berto won’t be reading this in any traditional manner. She passed away in 1990 at the age of 42.
In 2 ou 3 choses que je sais d’elle, she made her screen debut.
Tristesse. Sadness. Yes, Godard was right. It is undeniable. Things have not gone well for capitalism. He says neo-capitalism, but I say neoconservatism. It is not quite antithesis. It is already synthesis. Beginning, middle, end. [Not necessarily in that order…]