|Page 1 of 2:|| |
|Index||14 reviews in total|
Cahiers du Cinema rated this as one of the top ten films of 1987. On the
other hand, Leonard Maltin said of it, "Bizarre, garish, contemporary
punk-apocalyptic updating of Shakespeare classic. Little to be said about
this pretentious mess except... avoid it." I don't think it is a great
film, but I certainly don't think it can be dismissed in such an offhand
manner. There was a lot of thought put into it, and it can be very
provoking, and also quite funny. I liked this film quite a lot and I
thought it was interesting. I think it is very innovative and ahead of
time; it almost seems like a multimedia project more than a film. I can
how people might find it very boring, but I didn't at all. It deals with
many issues that have since become prominent themes in academic discourse.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
I have watched this film perhaps 100 times, and many of those times I
feel as if I am watching it for the first time. It is incredibly rich.
Quite a bit of philosophical sophistication is presupposed, so let's start with some basics. When Plato says that what you hear does not come from what you see he is perfectly correct. The colors that are produced in your mind by a message from your optic nerve do not cause the sounds that you hear. The green is not in the grass, only in your mind. The grass absorbs various radio waves, and your eye picks up on the unabsorbed reflected waves. The green is your body's miraculous way of letting you know about the radio waves around you. You are actually experiencing a series of still pictures, approximately 24 per second. If they were significantly faster than that, you would experience a movie as a series of still pictures. You are active in this process, because you organize the raw sensations. This can be seen in a gestalt shift.
In everyday experience we are isolated people. All we relate to are the images that are in our minds. Zen Buddhists think we can have direct contact with the mysterious outside reality--not merely contact with images that those objects helped produced (satori). Godard is concerned with satori, but he is also concerned with experiencing the projector of the series of still pictures that he is experiencing. Your mind is working incredibly hard organizing everything you are experiencing 24 times a second. The incredible amount of organization it takes for you to read this sentence is but a small fraction of what your mind has just done.
If a child were very bored with a movie, he might look around and see that it all comes from this light in the back of the room. If you had no interest in the images thrown up on your private movie screen by the ground of your being, perhaps you too could turn around and experience this projector. I take the projector to be Atman. Brahman (which I take to be the same as nirvana) would be actually going into the projection room. This is what they are trying to do in the movie theater. But (Oh no!)they are not innocent, and we get caught up with these images (which together their relationship to other images Kant calls reality); they are like the child who is too interested in the movie to look around.
Now it is like choosing the first fruit from a cornucopia. I had some understanding of the ending this time, so let's start there. Here comes the spoiler: a seagull calls. It is trying to make it's presence known for some reason or other. We experience merely the result of a message from the nerve from our ear. It significance is just that: it's merely in our minds, but it comes from an outside reality that is trying to makes its presence known. It is part of the world that is not mere representation. That world (sacred to Godard) is really out there. The movie ends with that reminder.
The visual image at the end is merely the words: King Lear A Study. Godard is saying that he has figured out something about King Lear. What that might be is indicated by the preceding lines read by a female voice: "Lend me a looking glass, if that her breath will mist or stain the stone, why then she lives." A looking glass presents images that are recognized as images. Lear is hoping against hope that Cordelia is still alive. He would have been satisfied if she could have heaved her heart into her mouth, if the unseen reality could become manifest to him. But now there might be something that is not a mere image on the looking glass--the mist or stain. This mist would represent Cordelia's life. Of course it is just a representation or image of her life, but for Godard their are images and images. An image is strong (which means that it has greater emotive force) if the association of ideas is distant and true. The opposite of this would be a flat image, as if perspective had been abolished. When Godard goes back and forth between images that tend to merge into each other, we are relating to them as two dimensional. Cordelia could not heave her heart into her mouth, but if Lear had been perceptive her silence could have shown him about her inner reality. The mist on the stone would show her that she lives, and would thus have strong emotive force. He could relate to her inner reality through the representation.
It is not Lear's voice that reads the lines at the very end of the film, but the same resonant female voice that is associated with the symbolism of the white horse. The horse would be the emotion that finds its occasion in the strong image. There is something within us that wants to break out of our isolation and rises to the occasion when an opportunity to do so presents itself. This wholehearted response to an image allows me to be without reservation, and thus for my solitude to know yours (satori).
Right before that we have Lear saying "She is as dead as earth." This corresponds to the image of Lear with Cordelia's dead body looking out at the source of the waves. The pebbled shore would be the private movies screen with its many objects. The waves would be the 24 times a second movement that throws itself onto the movie screen. Lear is not letting death defeat him. He's using the emotive power of her death to try to succeed to turn toward the projector. Wait Cordelia. The earthly reality is not the only reality, and he would relate to that reality that now has Cordelia.
This is by far one of the weirdest films ever made, as I've said
before. Godard is probably my second favorite director (right behind
Kitano), and this isn't his first really weird film or anything (I'd go
so far as to say all of his films in his
unfairly-neglected-but-superior "late period" are quite strange in some
way, either in their fractured narrative, or in their hardcore
deconstruction of typical movie-making -- "Where's the story?"
indeed...). But this is kind of a mix of everything he'd done with his
newer stuff, when it came out; all the themes and elements and ideas he
had been exploring, and it even predicts a bit of his stuff after this.
People usually get interested in this film for its genesis and some of
the bizarre happenings in this film (Godard signs a contract on a
napkin; Godard recorded telephone conversations with producer and put
it in the film, which peeved the producer off; Godard never actually
reads past page 3 of King Lear itself; this film was made from like 4
or 5 different aborted scripts cobbled together; a father and daughter
sign on to do this movie, do 5 takes or so, and then walk off the set
in disgust, all of which is captured in the movie, with a voice-over
explaining this; Woody Allen was hired to be in this film and he had no
idea what he was doing so he drinks some coffee, puts some safety pins
in some film, recites a few verses from the play King Lear and that's
Well, it goes far beyond that, as far as strangeness is concerned... seeing Molly Ringwald in a Godard film is just bizarre, first of all (keep in mind she was HUGE at the time; Pretty In Pink and all that stuff). Second of all, Godard's narration is absurd. I mean, you can barely even tell what he's saying, in English (this is also his only English film from beginning to end!). He might as well have been recorded through a voice box. Godard plays a guy with a headdress made of hi-fidelity wires, so he can jack himself into the unknown at any time. He is looking for "The image". Since Godard never actually read King Lear, the film instead asks if King Lear is even an important work of art, if it's even valid a radioactive, post-Chernobyl landscape. So, the main actor (who actually says the line, "Oh yeah, by the way, my name is William Shakespeare Junior the Fifth." in a comical tone) is "searching" for, uh, something, and he encounters a bunch of crazy characters, in an extremely, EXTREMELY fractured narrative, with scenes ending abruptly, double (sometimes triple) voices of characters constantly on the soundtrack, and pretty much everything crashing, colliding, and being completely out of sequence, out of time, out of tune. Oh, let's not forget the soundtrack, which is made of slowed-down and electronically-manipulated versions of Beethoven symphonies; also, there is a loud, annoying, seagull sound about every 3 minutes in the movie.
Sounds like a disaster, doesn't it? Well, I gotta say, it's one of the best films -- not just by Godard -- but EVER. Even beyond the "strangeness" that attracts me, there is a strange, otherworldly beauty to the proceedings. Godard designed the film to fail, but he did so in a way that's really, really interesting, and is actually extremely experimental, especially when you consider that this was designed to be a mainstream film! Godard himself said he never got page 3 of King Lear, it didn't interest him at all... he said the film was the first 3 pages of King Lear and the rest of it is him trying to "Get past" the rest of the play. Which is hilarious, absurd, and reason enough to check it out...
A powerful film, misunderstood to be certain, groundbreaking and unconventional in every way, I'd say anyone into Jodorowsky and stuff like that should probably want to seek this out and have their mind blown.
It's interesting that director Jean-Luc Godard flashes up the title
card King Lear: Fear and Loathing throughout this film, as he himself
appearing on the screen looks like Hunter S. Thompson...that is, if HST
was French and on a mix of downers and trippers. Upon watching Godard's
King Lear the first time, I understood this much - William Shakespeare
Junior the Fifth (Peter Sellars) is in the process of writing something
for the Cannon Group in a post-Chernobyl mind-f*ck parallel universe,
where art and movies are faded memories and where Don Learo (Burgess
Meredith) and his daughter Cordelia (Molly Ringwald) talk of separate
philosophies and emotional struggles. Then, other than that, I was
totally befuddled by the cinematic approach Godard was taking to the
material. And yet there was something about the film that intrigued me,
how there was such a height of intellectualism going on from Godard's
head to the celluloid that it almost reverberated to ludicrous-ness, so
I watched it again, giving it another shot.
What King Lear does accomplish, at least up to a point, is that Godard's trying to get inside the mind of a writer (if not himself, which is more than likely the case, then of the spawn of Shakespeare), as he tosses about various ideas and nonsense to pound out a story and characters. The film also gives some interesting and true improvisation time for an actor like Meredith, and once in a while Godard's Professor Pluggy makes a point of fascination (i.e. the significance of images and emotions). What King Lear doesn't accomplish is some sense, even sense that intellectuals could be able to latch onto. Godard's basically making a film for himself, delving into themes and stylistic techniques that only he would understand, and since he limits what the audience can latch onto and comprehend of what philosophical goals and meanings he's derived from Shakespeare's classic, it's pretentious more often than not. The mis-en-scene is a bizarre contrast, as everything in the camera-work is clear and lovely, while the audio side of things almost works to annoy the viewer. The sounds of seagulls are practically inexplicable (unless he's trying to have the POV of the character every time a seagull chirps, which is over-the-line for me), the over-lapping of puzzling Shakespearian-esquire philosophy over some of the dialog is too much to concentrate on and digest, and the way Godard talks he might as well be speaking through a voice box.
So, I think that King Lear is a bit of a mess, but for some reason I don't think it's a failure. It's the kind of mess that only a director like Godard could go for and make his own. A hack wouldn't even KNOW how to use such weird narrative devices like this man does. The film could even be of use to be dissected by someone scene-by-scene (although it could perplex someone enough to destroy the videotape their watching and curse Godard for all eternity), and as an experiment of treating Shakespeare it's not the worst in history. But I would not want to test myself with this again. Even Woody Allen (who bookends the end of the film with only minimal Shakespeare dialog and hands amusingly fiddling on the film) must've been scratching his head through most of this. So it's recommendable not so much as an enjoyable poetic musing like Band of Outsiders or even Pierrot Le Fou's oddball mixture. Reall, it's a challenge for a film buff that'll at best intrigue and get thinking and at worst be something to throw up in the air and shoot at with a bebe gun.
I simply can't understand this. Whenever a film is extremely original
this happens, oddly enough this do not seem to be the case with the
oddities of the 30's and 40's, so I do smell a little discrimination.
After watching this film, with mixed expectations I might add I found that it's one of the greatest films I have ever seen. A masterpiece. Now I will not go around hitting other people with my taste but I believe there's a few things that should be said so you know what you're getting yourself into:
1. It's one of the weirdest films of all time - It's not just surreal but a tiny bit minimalistic too. - People speak like they were in Inland Empire.
2. It focuses a lot on technical skills and picture making.
3. As most of Godards films he's trying new things out. And it could be viewed as a project of some kind.
4. One of the characters, the one played by Godard actually, mumbles a lot, also in his narrations, this seem to be more of a comic relief after a while but at the opening it can be found as annoying and it seems to be the most criticized part of the film.
If you don't object to any of these things and have liked/loved other Godards of the 80's, 90's, you will like/love this. I most definitely love it and I hope you do too.
The first time I saw this, I really disliked it. Even compared to Godard's other ramblings of the 70's, it was still a little too disparate. But the second time gelled this movie for me and now I truly love this film. It's a wonderful brainstorm about the nature of film and the inherent capacity of art to reform itself. In other words, everything that's being said or will be said has already been said; sounds bleak at first, but it's actually comforting, because then art becomes truly universal and languageless.
certainly, if you're looking for entertainment and nothing else, then this isn't your movie. but if you want to have several insights concerning issues like authorship, patriarchy, literacy, the entertainment industry (hey, this is a Golan-Globus production!), the mafia, crime (anyone read Albert Fried's Rise and fall of the Jewish gangster in America?).....don't miss Godard's King Lear!
This must be a candidate for the most difficult film ever made. Great
reviewers can't make head nor tail of it. It's Godard's own Finnegan's
Wake-like dreamscape of the making of a film on the theme of King Lear,
beginning with the contract, ending with the editing - a project that
apparently turned into a nightmare. Hence the disjointed narrative,
Alice in Wonderland elements, weird juxtapositions, elaborate
pseudo-philosophies - all familiar components of delirious
semi-consciousness. It's an anti-film, a film made deliberately to be
disliked as much as it dislikes itself. Just as Godard's film about
Lausanne, Lettre a Freddie Buache, consists of his refusal to make a
film about Lausanne, so King Lear is his refusal to make the Lear
required of him, while contract bound to make something.
It opens with an actual phonecall from the producer giving Godard a roasting for failing to deliver the film. The film that follows is Godard's response and is basically a middle finger to the Cannon Group and everyone else, focussing as it does, on the key word in the play: Nothing.
In the opening scenes, Norman Mailer and his daughter discuss the King Lear script he has just finished. It's unclear whether Mailer's actual script was ever going to be used, assuming he wrote one, or why Mailer himself would want to act the part, or why Godard would ever have agreed to make a film written and acted by Norman Mailer. Obscurities matched only by the resulting film itself. In any case it wasn't going to work. Perhaps to deliberately abort the project, Godard quickly succeeded in pissing off the Mailers who left in a huff. Godard blames the petulance of 'the great writer' and his daughter's inability to handle the pressure from various sides, including her father. That's one hell of an opening for a film, leaving us blinking and wondering what is going to happen, or not happen, next.
A kind of story pops up. A descendant of Shakespeare (Peter Sellars) is trying to recreate the Bard's works after all art has been lost in a nuclear catastrophe. In a Swiss hotel he finds Burgess Meredith and Molly Ringwald, vaguely recognised as Lear and Cordelia (power and virtue in contest), and from whom he gradually reconstructs the play. Mailer's idea of making Lear a mafia don resurfaces here. Meanwhile, Sellars is in pursuit of the mad Professor Pluggy (Godard, in a truly bizarre performance) who has crucial knowledge of how images should complement the words.
Pluggy's long and solemn thesis on words, images and reality is at the centre of the film. Life and images of life.Telling and showing. There is more than recreating a universe of words (says Pluggy). Images are purer. Images serve to connect two realities and meaning is created by reconciling these two realities. Their coming together in image form releases the emotive power. Contrary realities (Lear and Cordelia) don't come together. The strength of an image lies in the association of ideas it contains. Bringing them together is the function of the artist. This presumably also applies to sound - the use of sound in the film is astonishing - layered, atmospheric, and apparently insane - and presumably explains the seagulls that are heard at random intervals, even during interior scenes. This is all dream-theory. Barely understandable on a single viewing - perhaps complete gibberish - yet key to what the film is about: the struggle of the artist to create.
At the end, Woody Allen is splicing the film with safety pins while reciting an irrelevant Sonnet - a final swipe at the Americans who clearly should never have messed with Godard in the first place. His response was to deliver something that is probably Nothing with an artistic fiendishness ungraspable by mere mortals. According to your fondness for the director, it's either highly entertaining or unendurable punishment.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
This is a strange film, but a likable one. It asks the question: what would we do if all the great works of literature were suddenly lost? In a way, this is Jean-Luc Godard"s "Wasteland": in a manner not unlike the T.S. Eliot poem, Godard fills his work with quotes, allusions, and sometimes outright plagiarisms of his favorite works of art, literature, and film, including hommages to Robert Bresson's "Trial of Joan of Arc" and Grigori Kozintsev's "King Lear"; there's even a character named Kozintsev in the movie. Godard is not making a movie based on Shakespeare's "King Lear": he's making a movie about "King Lear." Godard has always considered himself an essayist rather than a storyteller, and the frequent use of captions, stills, and other distancing devices are reminiscent of his hero Bertold Brecht. Marxist rhetoric, though not absent, is less strident here than in some of Godard's earlier works. The movie is fun if occasionally irritating and often incomprehensible. Of the international cast, Molly Ringwald gives a touching performance as Cordelia, conveying much of her character's anguish through body language alone; Burgess Meredith reads Lear's lines with authority, and one wonders how he would have measured up in a more traditional interpretation of the play. The film hints at father-daughter incest, but there's no overt sexuality.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Lear is about sight and truth, and incidentally about how devilish charms (derived from the audience's participation and perception) bend sight and truth. So it (and the similarly placed `The Tempest') are naturals for film, especially self-referential films about films and filmmaking.
Self-referential filmmaking is an art that the French believe they invented -- and they have a continental tradition of deconstructive semiosis to draw from. So this would seem a natural. Godard is an experimentalist -- a theorist -- but not a great artist, and it shows here. Because he doesn't know, or can't reach, the deep structure of Lear on that matter. For Shakespeare, confusing forces of naming emerge from a capricious aether, drawn forth by the creative process of life.
Modern semioticians hold that this comes from the hidden inner mind, drawn forth by the messy animal processes of life. Godard rattles about with this thin notion, somewhat of a curse for the French, and never touches the deeper notion, which accidentally fell, it seems, on the English. The French have never forgiven them, and here equate the notion (and films about it) to American gangsterism.
|Page 1 of 2:|| |
|Plot summary||Plot synopsis||Ratings|
|Newsgroup reviews||External reviews||Plot keywords|
|Main details||Your user reviews||Your vote history|