>>211488103
It's from a book
A little later, Paul allows Camille to be alone for a short time with
Prokosch. She believes he may have been making her available to advance
his career. That she has so little self-respect or independence suggests a code
of marriage belonging to the seventh century. Never mind: like many
ultramodernists, Godard was old-fashioned in many respects. So the
marriage breaks. Tragedy will follow. And a serene Lang will be left with
The Odyssey—perhaps the least promising project Fritz Lang ever considered.
I am being a little facetious because Le Mépris is now so taken for granted
as a masterpiece—and because I wish to show that it has many silly things
wrong with it. Still, Godard’s baleful feelings about the movies are no longer
in doubt. He disapproves, and as he disapproves so he gives us yet more
ravishing footage (by Raoul Coutard) from the roof of the villa (it had
belonged to Curzio Malaparte) overlooking the Mediterranean (more
spectacular than even Mlle. Bardot). With such grave camera movements
and the music of Georges Delerue, Le Mépris has all the framework of a great
film. But the little boy making it holds on to his disillusion the way older
boys clutch their prick. It is beauty—but it is all over.
