Perhaps Godard's best 21st century film, not only unlocking all the others but doing so in a way that feels as impassioned as cerebral. The opening is lucidly horrific. The middle is rich with too many ideas to count, chiefly the failure of art to do justice to complex political reality. The ending is a pained, self-reflexive reminder that "Paradise", both philosophical and cinematic, is an exclusionary privilege.
Definitivamente no es para todo público. Godard utiliza la libertad que el reconocimiento como Director le permite para realizar un filme político. El aspecto técnico está dotado de un impresionante montaje en Infierno, una buena fotografía, un guión que por momentos falla pero se reivindica con la tercera parte. Película densa y a pesar de todo, recomendable, siempre y cuando uno se disponga a seguir las metáforas
What makes Godard great is that people are there with the strength and dignity of Ford or Costa. Irony, distanciation, abstraction of space and time, discoursive or didactic dialogues, intertitles and the insistence on intervals doesn't implicate hate or despise. On the contrary, this film is about the suffering of people on the modern world and its Dantesque structure is a powerful metaphor. Beautiful and moving.
Guess I've changed a lot in the 8 yrs since I first saw this--now it looks like a masterpiece. With the 20th century over Godard arrives at a near-terminal point, where extremes of tragedy and beauty have broken down sense and can almost seem equal. He's concerned with the very nature of differentiation, which is about as deep as it gets, and he honours the dilemma in every way he can. Brilliant.
A very good "essay" film (mostly) with an interesting structure. The annoying Godardian character political mouthpiece speech technique is kept to a minimum and the result is a dialogue about the image, politics and war that feels tied to actual emotions instead of distant abstractions. I loved the bookends.
I'm quite disappointed about this one, despite awarding it four stars. The opening ten minutes of Godard's film essay contained some of the most harrowing yet beautiful marriages of image and music that I have witnessed in cinema. I was looking forward to adding this film as one of my favourites, but sadly, after these ten minutes were over, it devolved into a stagnancy that never matched the earlier resonance.
After a rolling montage of war and devastation, and with the burnt ruins of Sarajevo still standing as a solitary witness to the last great horror of the 20th century, Godard asks the question: "how can we live?" The audience responds: "with our fingers in our ears and our eyes tightly closed." Heaven really is a place where nothing ever happens.
it's funny how words betray the film. they do not lie, but they betray it. films like inglorious basterds or munchen betray levinas, but differently. in spite of sophisticated choices of texts and additional music,i found this film spiritless. if tolerance accepts two types of opposing certitudes, then how can it still define war as good vs. evil, since it is the clash of such equal systems of certitudes that war is?