Jean-Luc Godard flummoxes me. More often than not, his films, at least the recent ones, sail cleanly over my head. Is that an acceptable confession for a critic to make? We in this profession prefer, after all, to project authority and confidence, the impression that we always know what we’re talking about, that we grasp the work on some basic level, because otherwise how could we begin to critique it? But the dirty and perhaps badly kept secret is that, like anyone else, critics are sometimes defeated by the limits of our own knowledge or interpretative faculties. Movies, with their often innate links to culture and history, are great at making you realize how little you really know. Godard’s movies, specifically, often make me feel like poor, confused Jon Snow. They remind me that I know nothing. I waved a flag of defeat, or at least of temporary stalemate, four years ago, when Godard’s last film, Goodbye To Language, premiered in competition at Cannes, in defiance of my obligation to offer anything resembling a coherent first take. He and I are both back at the festival this year, and I’m forced to wave that flag again, even more urgently, in… Read full this story
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Jean-Luc Godard returns to Cannes to make a dunce out of our correspondent have 291 words, post on film.avclub.com at May 12, 2018. This is cached page on VietMaz. If you want remove this page, please contact us.