Whatever else it offersa rebuke of American cultural imperialism; a fluid melding of Godard's ruminations on the place of art in representing history and memory; meandering thoughts that seem written in the air, aural echoes of the relaxed motion and pace of individual shotsIn Praise of Love will be regarded, in any discernible future, as the time when Godard punked out Spielberg, taking him to task for his perceived sin of manipulating real tragedy (the Holocaust) for personal gain and using him as a microcosm of what's wrong with Hollywood. Godard's refrain of discontent is built on a few specific misgivings, and at least oneHollywood's role in camouflaging America's own lack of history and identitybenefits from the mischievous tone with which said grievance is presented in voice-over, so that the viewer isn't entirely sure how seriously to take the cantankerous filmmaker.
Textual breeziness is well complemented by an audacious visual strategy, as black-and-white film eventually yields to digital color video, which I would characterize as an orgiastic array of watercolor images that superimpose each other. This uncannily feels like a history (of film?) collapsing into self-reflexive morass, paralleling the narrative shift of genteel reflection to arch, free-associative interrogation. Having recently seen Week End, it's tempting to conclude that Godard at relative ease, as he is here, is preferable to Godard in apocalyptic control.
Textual breeziness is well complemented by an audacious visual strategy, as black-and-white film eventually yields to digital color video, which I would characterize as an orgiastic array of watercolor images that superimpose each other. This uncannily feels like a history (of film?) collapsing into self-reflexive morass, paralleling the narrative shift of genteel reflection to arch, free-associative interrogation. Having recently seen Week End, it's tempting to conclude that Godard at relative ease, as he is here, is preferable to Godard in apocalyptic control.