Contempt

this is a film that sits and lingers in you. the film isn’t enthralling and necessarily overly entertaining. it’s methodical and slow and deliberate. characters talk themselves into a circle for 20 minutes within the same room. but everything the film stands for and is saying to you sticks. the film depicts distance and genuine love in its realest form: fleeting. it shows just how easy it is for love to become nothing but transactional and habitual until it eventually unravels and becomes nothing but a chore. to be loved is to be chosen. to be met with contempt is to be seen. godard’s cinematography and beautiful setting is nothing but marvellous and enticing. every shot is composed so beautifully and backdropped by the luscious summer glow. however, the beauty of the film does not undermine the contemptuous feelings arisen within while you watch. if anything it signifies just how abrupt and terrifyingly real it all can be. love is not a fixture nor a habit; it is desire.  simultaneously this film is deceptively political. godard’s outspoken leftist ideals bleed themselves subtlety yet strongly into this film. the conversation around commerce in art in particular is highly politicised. godard and the french new wave as a whole i believe — so far — thrives upon what it makes you feel after the film is complete. the film lingers, never leaving — an omnipresent feeling in your mind — and forces you to truly engage with what you watched. i think all these films, contempt especially, will be so much better on a rewatch.