The ending of this is what makes this feel more special than some minor tossed-off shard of another project; he makes the case of what role someone has when the proverbial book is closed on a life of pain. It's rather poignant for that crusty lump of Swiss-French bread M. Godard as he ties together what we are seeing in this picture of pathetic and vicious bit kf military violence, and this idea of seeing agony all his life - or at least in the images and representations fragmented and in this poetic reinterpretation as filtered through this abstract cinema - is melancholic.
Hail, Sarajevo is basically a short poem on film, and I enjoyed the syntax and flow of the words and images even as I'm still not totally sure what all happened in the Sarajevo conflicts (EDIT) I read up a little on what the photograph is, a soldier kicking a Bosnian civilian. Damn. I like this more after it ends; maybe if Godard had transitioned more to short-form content in his latter years I would've responded more favorably. Oh, well.
