One + One

Jean Luc Goddard's 'Sympathy For The Devil',or as it's known better in Europe as 'One Plus One' is an enigma (of sorts). The film's European title seems to better sum it all up. When Goddard went to England in 1968, he originally wanted to direct a film with a pro abortion angle, at a time when abortion was illegal. As it turns out, before production could begin,abortion became legal in the U.K. Goddard, none the less, decided to hang out & make a film anyway. He ended up as a guest of the Rolling Stones,where he filmed several days of the Stones in the recording studio,working on the sessions for the song 'Sympathy For The Devil', this footage was augmented with Godard's take on revolutionary politics of the era. The results are a mixed bag that some folk will get, others not so. I attended a midnight screening of this film some years ago with a crowd that expected a Rolling Stones concert film, and didn't get it, got downright ugly (a pity,but predictable for those who lack any knowledge of Godard's fragmentary style of narrative). No rating,but contains rough language,brief nudity & verbal descriptions of some graphic sexual situations.

One of Nouvelle Vague iconoclast Jean-Luc Godard's most engaging oddities, part music documentary of the Rolling Stones rehearsing and recording "Sympathy for the Devil", part a collage of sketches on modern-day revolution and the struggle of the minorities for freedom, punctuated by a number of double-entendre title cards. Generally ranged alongside Godard's political work of the late sixties, it's in fact a cynical and very twisted meditation on the politics of minorities, since the director equates women's lib, communism, fascism and the Black Panthers' radicalism at the same level, all while the Stones find a way to tell the Devil's take on the history of civilization. Mostly, it's questioning what real impact can theoretical concepts of revolution have in a world where language obscures as much as it shares, as is acutely pointed out in the Black Panther's interview where, once asked how are they going to communicate their aspirations to the white man, the black revolutionary replies he has no idea since black men and white men don't really speak the same language. Is music, then, the universal language that everyone speaks? Godard says nothing. He prefers to film, in very long and beautifully executed tracking one-takes, either the Stones rehearsing in a candid manner, or the various revolutionaries spouting their ideals out loud, while a cynical voiceover reads excerpts of pulp novels with the names replaced by those of post-war politicians. It is, in fact, "one plus one": one half rock documentary of interest to Stones fans, one half political satire and commentary. The beauty lies in mixing them together, but I'll admit that only a hardcore Godard fan can enjoy and make sense of the combination.

In Bergsonian terms, "Sympathy" or "1+1" seems to represent the cinematographical spirit of Becoming; while deconstructing the perfect rock song (though Blood on the Tracks-era Dylan fans may want to disagree), "Sympathy for the Devil" never actually plays at any time in its totality. Mick and friends conceive of the song while sitting in a semi-circle, and perfect it months later via the same seating arrangement amidst acres of sound equipment. Meanwhile, Godard's full synthesis of his cinema of ideological engagement(s) (cinemarx) is projected while we're still wondering why the girls dressed in white are being executed, the bookstore owner makes customers give him him a Third Reich salute or why there aren't any drummers as cool as Charlie Watts anymore.

This film is for true Rolling Stones or Godard fans only. If you are neither of the above you will probably have trouble sitting through the whole movie. Godard's political ramble becomes tedious at times, but watching the development of the Stones' song is priceless. Seeing the song come together as a blistering whirlwind is reward enough for repressing the urge to fast-forward through the rest of the film.

Godard made this film during his ultra-loopy "Marxist polemics" period, although before he stopped being so individualistic as to credit himself, rather than a "collective," as the director. It is a rare English-language Godard film, made in the UK. SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL alternates documentary scenes of the Rolling Stones developing and rehearsing the title track (a chilling examination of the seductiveness of evil behavior, and one of the Stones's best songs) with what are basically political skits, plus quick bits showing characters spray-painting political slogans on various surfaces, always cutting away before the character finishes the message.

The Stones scenes in themselves make the film worth seeing (for fans of the song, at least). The process of creating and refining an instantly classic song makes for truly fascinating viewing for those interested in making music and seeing how a song evolves. The viewer initially sees Mick Jagger demonstrating the song on acoustic guitar for the other band members. Gradually (in between political interruptions!), the band fleshes out the song's arrangement, adding keyboards, electric guitar, and multiple layers of percussion, developing this work into the rumbling tempest Stones fans know and love. At one point famous Stones hangers-on Anita Pallenberg and Marianne Faithfull appear to help with the "whoo-whoo" backing vocals. Near the end, Godard himself materializes to pass out cigarettes to the band members, an oddly post-coital gesture.

The film's other scenes? Amusingly absurd at times, the skits usually involve the characters reading various texts for the viewer. Black militants read from Eldridge Cleaver and the like, while the owner of a porno shop reads from what sounds like Nazi texts, while customers present their selections to him, give a Nazi salute, take their purchase and leave. (The equation of pornography with National Socialism here must have warmed Andrea Dworkin's heart.) The black militant scenes feel rather disturbing, as the viewer sees white women in white gowns led at gunpoint into a junkyard, underscored by Cleaver's thoughts on white women. Later the viewer sees the bloodied corpses of a couple of the women, and the film ends with a dead white woman draped over a crane adorned with red and black flags. Godard seems to be endorsing the vengeful Leftist by-any-means-necessary morality, the kind of thing the Stones's song warns against.

The completed version of "Sympathy of the Devil" plays under the film's ending; allegedly Godard was incensed by the producers' inserting the finished song here. Godard probably wanted the rehearsal scenes to symbolize the development of "the revolution" ("you'll get yours, bourgeoisie!"), and, since "the revolution" hadn't come yet, using the _complete_ song would ruin the parallel. That must also be why the vandals never get to complete their spray-painted slogans. I would be quite interested to see ONE PLUS ONE, Godard's director's cut of this film.