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What the Critics Say About MADE IN U.S.A. |
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Damon Smith |
January 8, 2009 |
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Godard's Made in U.S.A. Made on a cheapie budget at the behest of producer Georges de Beuaregard (La Religieuse), who tapped Godard to help him out of a financial sinkhole, Made in U.S.A. is a cheeky pastiche of The Big Sleep, American kitsch, and anti-capitalist rhetoric. The plot, as with so many Godard films of the period, is absurdly convoluted (Anna Karina’s Paula Nelson hunts for the killers of her lover Politzer, a Marxist philosopher, after shooting a dwarflike agent, M. Typhus, in her hotel room). The narrative action is routinely disrupted by jarring sounds (i.e. the recurring roar of a jet engine often obscures dialogue), disorienting cuts and visual interludes, and stentorian voiceovers. But “story” and lockstep sense-making are beside the point, and here, importantly, Godard’s exuberantly playful formal experimentation is infused with a more strident political tone. Shot in Paris over the course of a month, and made synchronously with Two or Three Things I Know About Her, to which he devoted his mornings, Made in U.S.A. marks the beginning of Godard’s shift from cinema-besotted New Wave grandee to self-fashioned cultural revolutionary (and Maoist mouthpiece). The film’s deliriously fawning closeups of Karina, whose dolled-up face and ultra-mod getups are worthy of Fashion Week ’66, are an act of intensely concentrated worship. Godard fell in love over and over again, not just with actress-collaborators like Karina, Marina Vlady, and Anne Wiazemsky, but with writers, poets, thinkers, American pop culture, and ultimately, radical politics. Made in U.S.A. points in that direction with its conspiratorial shadow operatives (Jean-Pierre Léaud and László Szabó), Godard’s oracular tape-machine pronouncements (attributed to Politzer’s unseen ghost), and the appearance of two hoods named Richard Nixon and Robert McNamara. Then there are the fatuous political declarations to grapple with. Some French critics likened the film’s collagist effects to a high-modernist masterwork by Picasso or Joyce, but Made in U.S.A. is not the equal of Pierrot le fou, nor is it as sardonically cutting or divisive as Week-end, the film he made a year later. Even Bernardo Bertolucci seemed to think, oddly enough, that Made in U.S.A. was too conformist. (A polemical issue, to be sure.) Young leftists didn’t like the film, either. Maybe they didn’t appreciate being called “sentimental,” which is what Philippe Labro, the journalist who gives Karina a ride at the end of the film, opines to her in a speech about contemporary politics. Yet the film has a spry energy that differentiates it from Godard’s prior accomplishments and later provocations. Quite apart from the film’s dazzling montage, there are flashes of broad humor, too, like Léaud’s death stumble and final yelp (“Mommy!”), and a flurry of deadpan Dadaisms, such as when Marianne Faithfull suddenly pops up to deliver an a capella rendition of the Rolling Stones’ “As Tears Go By” in a bar room. Made in U.S.A. may have surfaced too late for canonical indemnity, but this quintessentially Godardian film has the freshness and intellectual vitality we have always treasured in his most celebrated body of work. |
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Made in U.S.A.: A Short Critical Chrestomathy To give a sense of the many levels at which Made in U.S.A. has been analyzed, I’ve excerpted some of the more insightful evaluations by film scholars and notable critics in the past, as well as Godard’s two English-language biographers, Colin MacCabe (Godard: A Portrait of the Artists at Seventy) and New Yorker scribe Richard Brody (Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard), who’ll introduce the Film Forum premiere on Friday, January 9. At the end of this list, I’ve also added some remarks that Godard himself made during a 1966 interview, while he was shooting the film. The film’s raison d’etre is the extraordinary number and duration of close-ups of Karina....The close-ups are the most expressive ones in color that Godard had made to date, and they are signifiers of the act of remembering. With them, the film appears to exist for the simplest of purposes, fulfilling the primal function of portraiture: to see again the face of a person who is no longer present. — Richard Brody What the film actually demonstrates is the complete inability of the form to deal with the reality of a politics which eludes the easy solutions of the thriller genre. In some ways, the simple and sombre message of the film is the inability of the left to cope with the developments of consumer capitalism: “Left Year Zero” is a repeated slogan as the film builds to its anticlimax. Made in U.S.A. is perhaps more easily understood as a re-run of Le Petit Soldat and an almost conscious farewell to Karina. — Colin MacCabe The apparatus in Made in U.S.A. , 1966, a tape recorder, makes the voice present across time, where the voice in the machine is a ghost, the dead fiance of Paula (played by Karina), voiced by ex-husband Godard. The voice reads dead text, extracts from a redundant political polemic, and is finally effaced when Paula makes her own recordings, reciting live text from the year the film is made: Foucault’s The Order of Things and Beckett’s Enough. — Roland-Francois Lack From Made in U.S.A. onward, the political imperative accelerates [Godard’s] incoherence, replaces action with slogan and human meetings with the barren exchange of dialectic....His protests, therefore, are pathological and humorless. — David Thomson Early in Made in U.S.A. , Paula Nelson comments: “Blood and mystery already. I have the feeling of moving about in a Walt Disney film starring Humphrey Bogart. Therefore it must be a political film.” But this remark measures the extent to which Made in U.S.A. both is and is not a political film. That Godard’s characters look out of the “action” to locate themselves as actors in a film genre is only partly a peice of nostalgic first-person wit on the part of Godard the filmmaker; mainly it’s an ironic disavowal of commitment to any one genre or way of regarding an action. — Susan Sontag In Made in U.S.A. , there is a joke amongst the actors that each is to act below his normal talents. Thus the image is truly contrary: in a scene of total artifice, surfaces covered with an enamel version of nighttime Times Square color, the actors are pinned down in curious angularities and stiffnesses. Unusually small-sized even for French actors, all looking as though they were dressed by Ohrbach’s (Junior Dept.), the general impression is of the Ken and Barbie dolls, a cardboard lower-echelon Madison Avenue group maneuvered into cramped setting and held there. — Manny Farber The French new wave cannot be defined unless we try to see how it has retraced the path of Italian neorealism for its own purposes—even if it meant going in other directions as well....And these images, touching or terrible, take on an ever greater autonomy after Made in U.S.A. ; which may be summed up as follows: “A witness providing us with a series of reports with neither conclusion nor logical connection ... without really effective reactions.” — Gilles Deleuze I started off intending to make a simple film; and for the first time I tried to tell a story. But it isn’t my way of doing things. I don’t know how to tell stories. I want to cover the whole ground, from all possible angles, saying everything at once. If I had to define myself I would say that I was a painter in letters, as one says “man of letters.” The result is that although I have respected story continuity for the first time in Made in U.S.A. , I couldn’t prevent myself from filling in the sociological content. And this content is that everything now is American-influenced. Hence the title. — Jean-Luc Godard
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