Der kleine Soldat

I just saw this film for the first time on TCM. I was appalled to see that there is no video available, nor has Maltin written a summary. Now I regret not having taped it, and hope it will be shown again.

This film, Godard's second at feature-length, was made in 1960. It was subsequently banned by the French government and not commercially released until 1963, when the war in Algeria was over and Algeria had gained its independence. It is sometimes difficult to recall, 41 years after the fact, that the Algerian conflict was then tearing France apart and, had anyone but a WWII hearing like De Gaulle been in charge, probably would have led to civil war.

The lead character is a somewhat reluctant and half-hearted member of a right wing terrorist group, opposing Algerian independence, planning assassinations and tortures of members of left wing terrorist groups supporting Algerian independence. Godard demonstrates that there is really no difference between the two, that they are both morally bankrupt and ultimately nihilistic. Members of both groups are shown with remarkable objectivity--remarkable if you know Godard's own political leanings, which were far to the left, Maoist in fact.

Stylistically the film has a documentary, cinema verite feel. Godard used hand held cameras decades before they came into vogue. The characters seem real, so much so that, except for the beautiful Anna Karina, it is necessary to remind oneself that these are actors.

By the way, probably very few viewers, except those who may have been in France at that time, will know the significance of a scene where, several times in succession, several cars blow their horns "ta ta tum, tum tum." That was a very public code that existed in France at the time and stood for "Algerie Francaise," or. loosely, "Keep Algeria French." A very topical film.

In the past couple of weeks, I've been on a Godard kick where I've seen "Alphaville", "My Life to Live" and "Breathless", along with "Le Petit Soldat." I don't think that it reflects all that badly on the latter movie to say that it's not really in a league with the first three, all of which are near-masterpieces at the very least.

This was Godard's first feature film made after "Breathless", and you can see him straining to give "Le Petit Soldat" a different feel - something where the stakes are a little higher, something more engaged with the political realities and real ethics of the world. One might conclude that this concrete engagement with politics isn't really Jean-Luc's cup of tea. It's telling that the best scene, Bruno's long closing monologue at the end of the film, is as involved with art and abstraction as it is with the milieu of the Algerian conflict around which the film centers itself.

The camera-work isn't as radical as some of Godard's other films, and his locations in Geneva and Zurich don't provide him with as much eye candy as his native Paris. Even more so than other early Godard films, it has the feel of a documentary. In this case, the documentary is a combination between a piece of political agitation and a seminar on individual freedom with respect to modern politics.

While the typical doomed Godardian hero spends most of his or her time in desperate circumstances, they frequently continue living in blithe ignorance of the fate that awaits them, spending their time in bed with one another or in pseudo-philosophical conversation. Bruno, the protagonist of "Le Petit Soldat", is different. The sense of desperation within him is palpable; Bruno is increasingly hemmed in by competing French and Algerian ideologies that make no sense to him, but nevertheless exercise more and more control over his freedom as the movie progresses.

The much-discussed torture scene is surprisingly long and effective. Torture, while no less in vogue now than it was in the early '60s, doesn't get much screen time these days. What Godard does so well is show the banality of the torturers, who go about their work with half-hearted second-hand assertions about what is necessary in times like these.

Bruno Forrestier (Michel Subor) is a 26 year-old Frenchman working in Geneva with links to extreme-right terrorists. Set in the background of the Algerian war, he cannot return to France as he has deserted but cannot remain in Geneva, where two terrorist groups suspect him of being a double-agent and shadow him menacingly throughout the film. Common to Godard films such as A bout de soufflé and Peirrot le fou, there is a palpable sense from the beginning that Bruno is living on borrowed time, so the action takes on a certain urgency within this shadow of danger. This is contrasted by the serene filming and narration, which evokes calm and certainty. Godard uses over-narration from the beginning, creating a sense of certainty with regard to the action, although distorting the viewer's perception of time, especially when the two at one time merge together. At the same time, the intensity of danger is capitalised on by the heavy use of close-ups of the characters, who are all stylishly dressed in suits and driving American cars. A hand-held camera is also used to bring the viewer even closer to the action and, we feel, to understanding the motivations of Bruno in what remains a highly political film. The viewer is kept on his toes by the inconsistent length of sequences, ranging from very long and intense (in apartments) to very short and spontaneous (mostly with moving cars). Godard cuts mercilessly between scenes which are only tenuously linked by the storyline and, in order to create a contrast, will not explain this with the narration but with the continuation of action in the film (to which the viewer must then stay gripped). With the cars, the clothes, the editing, the hand-held camera work and the use of close-ups and over-narration, the film is a pioneer of Nouvelle vague cinema, having been made before A bout de soufflé (1960), but banned in France until 1963 due to its political commentary. Ironically, these techniques create such an intense relationship between the screen and the viewer that the presence of politics is of secondary importance to the desire to understand each character and find out whatever little you can about them. In these ways you are drawn in and remain gripped to the film.

It took a couple of rewinds and essentially a second viewing to fully appreciate this film, and even then it was hit and miss. I'm guessing that it must have been more powerful in the 1960's, not because it's message isn't still relevant today, but because it's counterculture method of filmmaking, the philosophical and practically stream of consciousness dialog, and depiction of alienation of youth in a world at war where neither side seems right would have resonated more.

One of the issues is that the long soliloquy from the main character (Michel Subor) towards the end meanders and doesn't deliver a payoff. Throughout the film he wants to talk poetry, philosophy, and politics with everyone - including the captors who torture him - but often doesn't say anything that is particularly enlightened. How much smarter is the comment of his girlfriend (Anna Karina), who much more quietly says that the French will ultimately lose the colonial war because they lack the 'ideal' they had in WWII; in other words, ultimately, they're in the wrong.

The film tells a coherent story, unlike some of Godard's later political efforts, but it has a raw and unpolished feeling about it, with bumpy shots out of cars, lots of dubbing, and aspects that aren't all that fleshed out (such as Karina's character). To some, that might be part of its appeal.

As this film deals with the Algerian War through the lens of violence in Europe between the range of people in support of the FLN (intellectuals, sympathizers, and terrorists) and French forces that seem to be lumping them all into that latter category, and because it has some a dramatically different style, it may make an interesting (though quite dark) double feature with 'The Battle of Algiers' (1966).

Godard's first explicitly political work - produced directly following the release of his debut film, the celebrated À bout de soufflé (1960), and banned almost immediately by the French government until 1963 - is a small-scale B-picture with serious intentions and a scattering of the director's typical verve and energy. In tone, it is somewhat characteristic of the approach of the early French New Wave, and of Godard's films of this period; calling to mind the aforementioned debut and his short films, Tous les garçons s'appellent Patrick (1959) and Charlotte et son Jules (1960), with the elements of cinema vérité inspired editing and cinematography techniques - capturing the action in a hurried and uncomplicated approach of hand-held cameras and unsophisticated mise-en-scene - and featuring a few early experiments with the use of sound design and music that would become more refined throughout the director's subsequent projects; leading to the year-zero effect of Week End (1967) and his exile from "mainstream" cinema until the early 1980's.

Although the film is quite clearly attempting to be a serious work - in regards to both the subject matter and the portrayal of the characters - this is still Godard at his most playful and deconstructive; tinkering with the characteristics of post-war crime cinema and the American film-noir to underline a story that is grittier and more low-key than many of his subsequent projects, such as the giddily stylised Une femme est une femme (1961) produced the following year. So, even though this particular approach and subject matter seems to point towards Godard's later, more politically minded work, such as Made in USA (1966) and La Chinoise (1967), we're still very much in the world of À bout de soufflé; with Godard simply using the political aspects of the story in the same way that he would use the science-fiction elements of Alphaville (1964) or the crime story characteristics of the much later Detective (1985); in the sense that they're mainly stylistic devises there to be exploited for the purposes of cinematic experimentation. I'm sure he meant it deep down, but at this stage in his career, Godard simply lacked the refinement of his later work, giving us a mostly straight presentation with tough guy narration, some ironic asides and an interest in moments of witty dialog and character interaction to breakdown the more conventional thriller aspects of the narrative.

At its most interesting, Le Petit Soldat (1963) draws odd parallels between the shooting of a film and the shooting of a political target; with Godard invoking his cinematographer Raoul Coutard and an anecdote about location filming - "the great hassle" - and applying it to the foibles of political assassination when outside influences intervene. In one line, it is pure Godard; playful, deconstructive, self-referential and incredibly witty; we also have that great shot in which the central character, readying himself for a hit, poses from his car window with a 44. in one hand, and a picture of Hitler held in the other to slyly mask his features. What also marks this out as an interesting work for Godard is the first appearance from Anna Karina; the Danish actress that would become Godard's first wife and muse for many of his earliest and greatest films, until Made in USA and their subsequent divorce in 1967. In Le Petit Soldat it becomes clear that Godard is in love with Karina, and his interest in her is expressed cinematically, with the black and white photography of Coutard framing her beautiful features with those big wide eyes and conspiratorial smile that is perfect for a character of this nature.

Godard and Karina would go on to make greater films together, such as Une femme est une femme, Vivre sa Vie (1962), Bande á part (1964) Alphaville and Pierrot le fou (1965) - all groundbreaking works - but there's a charm to her appearance here that makes the lengthy scenes between her character and the film's central protagonist fizz and pop with an unrehearsed magnetism and charisma that is (or was) characteristic of the early French New Wave. In the end, for all the grit and the prolonged scenes of psychological torture and botched political assassinations, Godard is really just playing here; playing with the ideas of politics and current events, like he played with the characteristics of Cocteau's Le Bel Indifférent with Charlotte et son Jules, or played with the crime film conventions in À bout de soufflé. Obviously, these characters aren't secret-agents, radicals or revolutionaries, but are simply actors playing at these roles; much like Belmondo was playing at being a gangster or Karina would go on to play the sitcom girl next door.

Ultimately, Godard's cinema is a cinema of moments; of scenes and characters that gather in our mind during the course of the process of viewing and remain there long after the film has ended. As a result, it is often argued that one can enjoy a film of Godard's, even if they found the complete experience somewhat slow or disengaging - largely as a result of the greatness of the individual scenes. Though it remains flawed in some respects, Le Petit Soldat is certainly not a bad film, and indeed, seems bursting with fresh ideas and ideologies; many of which are a lot more subtle than Godard's detractors would perhaps give him credit for. However, even then, we can recognise this as an early work in the grand scheme of things, produced by an incredibly talented young filmmaker not yet in complete command of his identity or his craft.