There is a modern feel to the film made in color set in Capri, and a feeling of freedom. The plot is that B.B. feels "contempt" for her husband because he lets Jack Palance come on to her, and it works with brilliant subtlety. The ending is kind of another in joke, as there's a bit of dialogue by Lang "death is not a resolution". In one scene the stars are all interacting against a background of current movie posters ("Psycho" among them). And Palance needs a translator from English to French, German, and Italian in the way of the beautiful Giorgia Moll. Lang speaks German, and everyone else Italian, a smorgasborg of languages.

Some later Godard films don't really work well as they are too disjointed (Weekend, 2 or 3 Things...), but here it all comes together.

Godard and Lang, Bardot and Capri (Rating: 5.00)
Review : Bardot is actually an excellent actress in this film. Her body gets a lot of attention and there are plenty of shots of her lying in the sun naked but she gives her character depth. Strangley enough when she walks around wearing a black wig she looks very plain, not at all like a movie star. Perhaps the most striking thing about this film is that though it was Godards first color film he manages to use color brilliantly. The film was shot in Italy and reminds me of a Michelangelo Antonioni film as it is a story of two lovers who fail to communicate and thus let their love slip away.

Jack Palance is perfect as the headstrong producer who manipulates his director Fritz Lang (who plays himself), as well as his writer (Michel Piccoli). Palance is the ultimate megalomaniacal producer who enjoys dominating others and manipulating them into doing whatever he wants. The confident and poised Lang acts like the master that he is, he never loses his cool and he copes with Palance's outrageous tantrums as if they were nothing at all, and we can see that despite Palance's constant intereference Lang will make the film that he wants. But the young, sensitive writer is made to feel like a whore. And this explains why he begins to treat his wife like a whore. Piccoli does not seem to want to admit what he is doing but he seems to push his wife into the arms of Palance intentionally so she too will feel the way he does. The script is based on an Alberto Moravia novel and this is a classic Moravia scenario. Moravia was fascinated with prostitutes and so was Godard -- ie My Life to Live.

The husband and wife both feel like whores and so they feel contempt for themselves as well as each other. The husband wonders aloud why commerce must invade every aspect of our lives and by that he means both art and love but he seems powerless to win his wife back. Though the film began with the loving couple laying in bed and whispering to each other, it ends on quite a different note. Palance, Lang, and Piccoli all interpret Homers Odyssey in their own way. Each views the relationship between Odysseus and Penelope according to their own life situation. Palance and Piccoli cease to find the film all that interesting, they are only interested in the battle for Bardot. Lang alone remains focused on the actual film. For Lang the world of the Greeks is too far removed from our own experince of the world and so he reinvents the story so it will resonate with modern audiences and he does so by brilliantly quoting from select texts (Dante, Holderlein)and thus he tells the tale as if it were taking place in the world we know today--as Lang reimagines the tale each scene takes on new significance. And of course the way Lang thinks and works sounds a lot like the way Godard thinks and works.

An excellent film which can be appreciated by Godard fans and a good place to start for those not familiar with Godard.

Bin it. (Rating: 1.00)
Review : Regarded by some as Godard's most accessible movie, I beg to differ: Godard has survived because of the freshness and charm of his best films, not as most fawning critics would have you believe because of their intellectual content or ground-breaking film making. As far as intellect goes, the most you hope for with Godard is a ten-minute Maoist harangue interesting now only for showing the then-zeitgeist. As for brilliant, ground-breaking film-making, the same applies - plenty of student films have adopted the same techniques as Godard just to save money or out of pure innocence. If you want groundbreaking, you want Kurosawa or Tarkovsky or Von Trier. What is great about Godard are scenes like the improvised café dance in Bande a Part or the crazy "murder" sequences in Pierrot, scenes which are outrageously witty and cool and original but actually quite simple, like the Beatles singing "I am the Walrus, woooooh."
Back to the point: Unlike his Pierrot, Bande a Part or Une Femme est une Femme in particular, this film seriously lacks charm. The whole thing has a sour mood about it, the actors really look like they have no idea what they are up to and just want it to be over - Palance above all, forced to play a madly egotistical meglomaniac film producer with lines that would look second-rate in a primary school pantomime. Bardot and Piccoli get through it, but you can sense the tension. Lang looks like he's on Valium. No doubt realising that his film was getting a bit irritating as it labours away with tiresome lack of subtlety at a domestic rupture (see same in Femme est une Femme for how it can be done, but this time con brio), Godard goes for broke by repeatedly introducing the mawkish background music all over the place (you can almost see him with an adolescent smirk on his face as he lays it on) to the point of making you groan.
Another thing I frankly don't understand is this: virtually any crit you read will tell you how this was Godard's first and last flirtation with big-budget movie-making. Big budget? It's about the cheapest movie I've ever seen. For example: any producer worth his salt would be surrounded with an entourage and chauffeurs. This guy can barely run to one secretary and drives himself around in a medium-budget Alfa. Likewise Lang. At the Villa Malaparte, a spectacular site on Capri, we see some scenes with a reception being laid out in the back. Look carefully: the "caterers" consist of one old man fumbling around with some plates. The paint is peeling off the walls in the living room. The entire film crew working on the film-within-the-film seems to consist of about three people, and they're not even around most of the time. Best of all, look carefully at the car crash in the final reel. Apparently they couldn't even afford to total the Alfa, so it's a mock up.
Art films are tricky things: the best of them can change your life and lift you to inspiration and wonder. The worst are not worth the celluloid they're made on. But to read all the critics, you sometimes have a hell of a job deciding which is which. Take it from me, this one belongs in the poubelle.