September 01, 2011

Les Carabiniers (The Riflemen) (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963)

I was curious to see how Godard was going to depict war in one of the first films he made. And not surprisingly, it depicted the real ugly side of war, as if playing on the mainstream audience’s love of action and war films.

The film is about two men who receive letters, delivered by soldiers from the King, to enlist in war, promised they will be rich afterward. They return with postcards (as Michelangelo calls them “deeds”), and seem to be under the impression that they will inherit these monuments, etc (while I had thought they brought the postcards in defeat and realising they weren’t going to get the real treasures) − so that was clever on the part of Godard. Also, another thing to note, was that I couldn’t really get where they were − they seemed to have Swiss-like crosses on their hats, etc but I thought the Swiss were neutral and it seemed like they were fighting in Mexico at one point? So I was confused but I actually don’t think Godard wanted to depict a particular place or time (or war). I think it was more of the general idea of war he wanted to examine.

From this moment, it looked as if the film was showing war as a positive opportunity, where they can come back with all the treasures of the world. I have to say all the characters were very naïve in this sense, and though I thought the men would’ve realised at the end, they were still pestering the other soldiers about their payment, and ultimately get shot by him. As the men go to war, we see the lines: “What do soldiers do before battle?” “Before battle, soldiers are afraid.”

The film was very stuttered, having an almost forced stillness and many artificial conversations. For instance there would be an awkward silence before the camera then cuts to shows the individuals and their reactions, when normally it would all happen instantaneous. Also, an interesting shot that was repeating the narrative, rather than advancing it was when the soldier is asking who the girl rifleman is, and she takes off her helmet − we then see the exchange again after a close-up cut. There were many obvious cuts too, such as when we see a scene, then a millisecond of black (longer than usual) then back to scene but from different perspective. 

There was no spoken narration but titles, on chalkboard − maybe that’s what’s written on the postcards we see the girls receiving too. By the way, I’m sure Godard had some extra meanings in mind when he chose the characters’ names: Cleopatra (for the woman they called “mama”) and Venus, as well as Michelangelo − I didn’t get the other guy’s name. At the start of the film when the two riflemen visit, they seem to find Cleopatra attractive (no surprise, with a name like that), and it’s interesting to see her reaction to a postcard of Cleopatra (saying she had better change her name if she comes). So clearly, the isolated family has no idea of what’s going on outside and contrary to the audience’s expectations, she is not named after Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. Also, I immediately noticed there was no music used except for the opening credits of the film. We see the riflemen singing and hear a record playing (before we see a visual of Cleopatra winding the gramophone). But the only real music was the major scale notes we hear as the men look at the postcards they return with.

One of my favourite scenes is when Michelangelo sees cinema for the first time and closes his eyes watching the Lumiere train clip. Then when there’s the woman in a bath clip, he goes up to projection screen, as if to look down into the bathtub and just can’t seem to comprehend this flat moving image. It really makes me curious as to how it would’ve been like to experience cinema for the first time − or even the first time I watched a film, compared to now. Anyway, an appealing movie with plenty to take from it.

3/5

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