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Buck in the Stacks #6:
French New Wave: Film Reformation
by Joseph Face
Joseph Face of Concord, NH is an enthusiast of the moving picture arts, including film and interactive entertainment media. A student and a writer, Mr. Face tempers his studied knowledge of the movie industry with a love of film critique.
How does one describe a fifty-year old cinematic revolution to a foreigner? With a historical comparison? It might be compared to the independent film revolution of the 1990’s and early 21st century (Clerks, Blair Witch Project, Pi)
in American theaters, noted for its strong characters and dynamic writing amid shaky budgets.
The French New Wave is certainly similar in that regard. From a production point of view the genre seems to represent what one imagines a decent student film to be: the editing is atrocious, often jumping suddenly and jarringly from scene to scene (and within scenes); the sound is passable at best; the writing — good! — but often lapsing into tedious scenes of seemingly idle chit-chat. It isn’t hard to imagine that, after seeing one of these films, the average American film-goer would walk out of the theater in rabid disgust.
The cause of this style is certainly not low production values. Quite the opposite, to the young French directors of the 1950s, native cinema had stagnated. Historical epics, literary narratives, and generally impersonal pictures were commonplace (one of the prominent names of the era, Francois Truffaut,
railed against these in his essay "A Certain Tendency of the French Cinema" in 1954). In retaliation, a group of like-minded cinephiles, mostly film critics for Cahiers du cinéma, launched what would eventually become a semi-collaborative reaction to these efforts at blockbuster-ism. French cinema was confronted by those with a desire to tell a tale that more closely — and accurately — depicted the lives and attitudes of a new breed of writers and directors.
In order to survive La Nouvelle Vague ("The New Wave"), a realization must be made: the film itself is actually the least important -- and therefore useless -- aspect of the genre. It is merely the vehicle for the story. The relationship between story and film, in terms of the New Wave, might be compared to that of a séance: ultimately, you’re there for the spooks and spirits, not the gold-toothed medium.
It is this sentiment that utterly defines New Wave movies: they are deeply personal, challenging and often unforgiving. The motivating force is not to tell a story that will necessarily please an audience, either in script or shot, but to depict people as they naturally are: imperfect, often vain, random, and painfully human. New Wave actors often wore little-to-no make-up: "I was part of a new generation that refused to wear the two inches of pancake base paint," prominent Wave actress Francoise Brion stated. "Suddenly, you saw actors who looked natural, like they had just gotten out of bed."
Further acclimating the idea of realistic film, New Wave movies were filmed on location, rather than on sets, and tended to use (when possible) available sunlight instead of bright — fake — lamps.
The films fit rather nicely into the Ezra Pound "make it new" definition of modern art: unique production norms were introduced, such as sudden jump-cuts, elongated close-ups, and the use of handheld cameras. The result, as mentioned,
is a style that seems preposterously outlandish, even unprofessional. It is only with the realization that they are purposely designed this way that a viewer may see it for what it is: a true case of Ugly Duckling.
There is beauty in these works, but not the Kate-and-Leo-on-the-Titanic kind of beauty: in wave movies, characters do not always overcome their demons, protagonists are not idealized, and rarely does anyone act in movie-logical fashion. This is purposeful: do most people prevail over intense troubles? Is everybody extra-good looking? Do we always know what to do?
Of course not, and the Wave recognizes this. Look at one of the first New Wave films, A Bout de Soufflé (Breathless). The main character, Michel Poiccard (a young Jean-Paul Belmondo) is a small-time-crook-turned-murderer who attempts to convince an American lover that he, well, loves her, and that she should love him in return. The romance blooms somewhat, but the romance is
never about the pair in love with each other, but simply the question of being in love. A line from him to her sums it up: "When we talked, I talked about me, you talked about you, when we should have talked about each other." Amazingly, the young female eventually turns him in, not so much out of duty or moral obligation, but simply as a test to herself: if she loves him, could she betray him? This disconnect is famous within the Wave movies.
According to www.ArtandCulture.com, the foundation of the revolution was born in a series of legal battles over the authorship of film. Film theorist André Bazin cultivated the auteur theory of ownership, where definitive ownership was bestowed upon the director.
In line with these ideals, the eventual New Wave directors strived to create films that personified the director as individual owner of the picture. It was not enough to make movies that were good: they were now to be marked with stamps of the director’s vision.
The inner battles seem aimed to cause reflection on ourselves: in Cléo de 5 à 7 (Cleo from 5 to 7), a female pop singer fears she may have cancer, and the story portrays her life in the two hours before she is to receive an official diagnosis. We journey with her through pointless excursions—shopping, chatting with friends, going to a fortune teller—and we (and she) realize that her life is utterly material, senseless: she is little more than a mannequin for others to flaunt over. As time inches closer to seven, her fears regarding her mortality grow deeper, and she craves genuine friendship; a poignantly pathetic scene characterizes this feeling: she goes into a little coffee shop and plays one of her songs on the jukebox and waits for somebody to recognize her. When nobody does, the realization that her death will not have much affect on the lives of others haunts her. This existentialist outlook is highly prevalent within Le Nouvelle Vague.
The effects of the French New Wave were many. Many Hollywood directors, particularly the "New Hollywood" directors of the 70s (including Robert Altman, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Roman Polanski, etc.) were highly influenced by the New Wave. Many of Hollywood’s most famous films owe a debt to the movement, including Bonnie and Clyde, Reservoir Dogs, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Additionally, film revolutions inspired by the New Wave occurred in other sections of the world, including Japan, England, Czechoslovakia, and Hungary. Perhaps its most significant accomplishment, however, is that it proved inexpensive films could be made to critical acclaim and be profitable. While La Nouvelle Vague sadly evaporated around 1964 under the weight of economics as studios flooded the market with these "artsy" films, the genre should be remembered, as the 50th anniversary is upon us, for its innovation in all forms of the art it served.
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