A Married Woman

He did it in 1961, in 1962, in 1963, and in 1964 Godard made another movie about a woman questioning the meaning of love, life, and acting. This movie, like the others, is a fun treat for Godard fans and fans of inventive camera and editing techniques, though it doesn't have as much heart as "Contempt", "Une femme est une femme", or even "Vivre sa vie".

"Une femme mariee" depicts the affair of a bored housewife, but director Godard strives to convey the feeling that we are reading about her in a women's magazine. To achieve this the scenes with the actors abruptly cuts to fashion photos, make- up ads, and text. It's a stylish movie with a brisk pace, but, just like a magazine story, it doesn't take long for it to leave the mind or heart either. Yes, Godard's creativity may soar higher here than ever before. His playfulness leaps through the surprising angles and reveals, his panning of words in magazines, x-ray photography, and whispered narration, etc, yet the story seems tacked on. We float from idea to idea as they enter and leave the director's head, which is fun for a one-time viewing, probably the way that glancing at his sketchbook may feel, but the lack of motivation, of purpose, inevitably keeps this effort from standing in the same grouping as the previously mentioned works, the ones that we watch more frequently, the ones that give us cinematic nourishment, the more organic, more well-rounded, fully realized pieces.

I was all set to adore this movie. I'd just seen Woman is a Woman and loved it, and the opening 30 mins of this look gorgeous in black and white on Blu Ray. The whispering and close-ups are hypnotic, and the monkeying around is not bothersome. But then, quel disastre, a typical Godard left turn, and I have to sit through (what felt like) 45 minutes of ponderous talking heads. You had to be there. I took years to get around to watching this, and I was loving it, honest, but man, he just wore me down. I had to admit that I was hating it. Just like some boring documentary. Why oh why such extended ruminations. Show not tell that's the idea. In this film its show for 30 minutes then tell for 30. I had to turn it off, sadly. So, my rating reflects this. I loved exactly half of what I saw.

5/10

Charlotte is young and modern, not a hair out of place, superficial, cool; she reads fashion magazines - does she have the perfect bust? She lives in a Paris suburb with her son and her husband Pierre, a pilot.

Whilst in Cannes in May 1964 Godard met Luigi Chiarini, the director of the 1964 Venice Film Festival, and offered to make a film that would be completed in three months in time to premiere at Venice - the festival would run from August 27 to September 10. The film would be the story of a woman, her husband, and her lover, and the woman would find out that she is pregnant and not know whose child it is.

I find it hard to believe that Godard is still alive today (2016), because his films seem so much a part of the past. How can anyone still alive have been so influential to everyone in the 70s, 80s, 90s and so on? But he is. And this is one of those films, because it is just beautiful. There is plot, but the real focus is on art. It is like pop art caught on film, beautifully so.

You decide to make the leap, Pierre to Robert, an actor, he likes you shorn of blouse and your skirts, doesn't overpower you, like Pierre's inclined to do, and he fits into an image, you prefer. Pierre was made aware, of all your cheating, had you followed and found out of covert meetings, but he thought it was all over, the affair had found its closure, he's oblivious that you haven't been retreating. A doctor lets you know there'll be another, in six months you will become natural mother, but the father could be either, 50/50 the conceiver, have to decide if it's one, or it's the other.

A typically abstract tale from the director of the deep, conceptual and symbolic, centred around Charlottes dilemma and how the world around her influences.

"No compunction can be traced from a two-timing Charlotte, she juggles Pierre's brute aggressiveness and tenderness (Leroy implements both with stark precision), with Roger's sophistication and clinginess, even the moral conundrum of pregnancy cannot fluster her, she only wants to know whether her pursuit of physical pleasure is wrong or not. Méril has a knack for evasion, her high-born delicacy, impish self-effacement emblazons her with an air of nonchalance that is essentially why French women on screen are so ethereal, yet, Godard's self-referential monologue often brings Charlotte down to earth, her inner thoughts, private ideations, her conviction in trust above anything else, find her beyond moral reproach, essentially, it is her aw-shucks niceness and realness (words are not put into her mouth, she seems to mean what she articulates) that establishes herself as an unusual Godard heroine, Charlotte's modernity is head of her time."

read my full review on my blog: Cinema Omnivore, thanks.