Place
Hors-série 2 - septembre 2019 /
Special issue 2 - September 2019
Jan Baetens
MY LIFE TO LIVE
Postface BY
Sémir Badir
11. 1950 film by Rossellini (translator's note).
12. To the contempt usually associated with novelizations, Baetens says, there’s “a radical antidote…Just as it’s possible to change the way a text is read by attributing it to a different author (one thinks of Borges’ radical examples), nothing prevents us from thinking that the last story in Dubliners is a ‘novelization’ of John Huston’s movie, or that Arthur C. Clarke set himself to write after viewing 2001, or that only the vagaries of publishing can explain why Blow Up was released for distribution before the pubic had a chance to read the story by Cortázar from which Antonioni’s film so successfully distinguishes itself. ("...to wind up as a book?" in Cinéma 1+2, écritures, no. 13, 2001, (in French), p. 13.)
13. Cited in Avant-scène Cinéma, 19, 1962.
14. That’s the justification Godard himself provided in an interview that appeared in December 1962, in Cahiers du Cinéma (reprinted in Godard on Godard, Critical Writings, Jean Narboni, ed., tr. Tom Milne. London, Secker & Warburg, 1972, pp. 171-196).
3
Likewise, Jean-Luc Godard doesn’t differentiate between his activity as a critic (in the Fifties, at Cahiers du Cinéma) and his film directing. The composition of My Life to Live, however, is the opposite of a discourse articulated as we expect critical discourse to be. There are twelve appearances by Nana, twelve analects a little in the manner of The Flowers of St. Francis11, where the editing is reduced to a minimum. On this point, I think the book has remained faithful to the film's composition. But I wouldn't want to look like I'm locking the latter up in some exclusive sort of discourse. We're nowhere near a state of balance. For example, if the hagiographical temptation is very much in evidence, notably in a long extract from Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc, the credits express otherwise a dedication to B-movies. The book, meanwhile, happily acknowledges the transcendence of the cinematic work, while clearly expressing, in its secular immanence, a preference for images of a small-time Nana.
In the manner of Borges, Jan Baetens proposes in his text-program, in addition, changing perspective for a moment, so the film might be considered a brilliant adaptation of the book12. In this mirror, the project's poetic dimension is obvious. Nana's very name forms, along with its interpretation, a little treatise on versification. And it could be argued that the advertising that appeared in newspapers when the film was launched did too; the trivial poetry on display there seems to me to represent, with tenderness and humor, the "humanist" project of the book.
A
Film
On
Prostitution
That
Tells
How
A
Young
And
Pretty
Parisian
Salesgirl
Gives
Away
Her
Body
But
Preserves
Her
Soul
While
She
Has
A
Series
Of
Unreal
Adventures
That
Teach
Her
About
All
Possible
Profound
Human
Feelings
And
That
Were
Filmed
By
Jean-Luc
Godard
And
Performed
By
Anna
Karina
My
Life
To Live13
What are we to make of the back-and-forth between the film and the book? In the end, perhaps, this: the images and the words are by no means rivals; rather, they control the visible world together. From which it follows that it wouldn't be of any use to try to transpose one into the other. And so, in the film, the number of words that are written, read out loud, posted, and postered is impressive. Words are so preponderant sometimes that the characters are filmed from the back, so as not to distract from hearing them14 . By fairly exchanging things, the words and images develop no mutual hostility; quite the contrary, they know how to borrow colors, movement, hesitations, and excess from one another, their themes are reciprocal, crosswise, juxtaposed, or overlapping. We can base our judgment on evidence in the first poem of Section X:
a Kleenex stained red
by lips a quick kiss
before after a white kiss
a white Kleenex then afterwards
the lip naively played
( )
sulking a true kiss
one handkerchief too many
a Kleenex stained red
behind the plate glass the hand
the brokedown armoire the lip
( )
a cigarette and following it
ash around silver
something set in rose gold
the favorite color of the cheeks
a Kleenex stained red
What the images and the words express when they sing their love of the everyday is resistance to logical and narrative rationalism, the body of thought into which we're generally tempted to fold them. The philosopher who plays himself in the film is certainly right to say that we betray words as much as they betray thought. Words have their own life, which we limit by our laziness and slow motion. And they gladly get lost at our expense. In this fool's game, the images stand out because reality serves as their handrail. They imprint the reality of their fiction on our picture of the world, they show us how to see their way of seeing things.
Words, images, give us this day our daily bread!
Sémir Badir
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