To Our Dear Jean-Luc
We pray (metaphorically) for the great Jean-Luc Godard, who is dead. He lived for everyone (and no one), through the films that too many have not viewed. He married two of his leading women, something you and I could probably never do. A baller, and we tip our hat to him.
A pioneer of 1960’s French New Wave Cinema, Godard rejected the bourgeois and its motivations. He took your mom’s spatula and flipped the egg over. His anti cult of personality style which was prominent in the late 60’s and 70’s, created a torrid chatter with a Maoist motif. A post-war film phenom.
Ever since his passing I’ve felt off. One could say the cheese in the fridge is moldy (and really, it is). One could also say Jupiter is somewhat closer to earth than normal. And yes, it is. It most certainly is. When someone passes, the elephant in the room gets bigger and bigger. Soon enough, you’re squashed, like unto a peanut beneath the elephants foot. But I digress.
In true doggish fashion, my dog has left the house and meandered towards Washington Square Park. He does this sometimes. Leaves the nest to make his way. The brute confidence of that dog amazes me. Takes the high roads, the back roads, and the roads less traveled. Mon petit chien. I’m glad he has the vivaciousness to do this, and returns to me with the loyal quality of man’s best friend.
In true millennial energy I’ve forgotten who I am, what I’m doing, and what direction is up. I find meaning sometimes through a sip of my straw, a look at my boyfriend’s hair, or a scrape to my knees. The internet still amazes me.
I think of Jean-Luc and I think of the lost cinema lover. The ones that took the international cinema classes to get away from the screen of 3-D life. A respite from the day-to-day, and some ego-masturbation for the cinephile. For me it provided many of the things I was needing: darkness in the light of day, love in a loveless semester, sex in a visual format sans guilt, and so on.
His unknown passing is a tragedy lost in the fields of cinematic time. Etc. It’s back to the drawing board for me as I try to flip the script on my life and all my friends cinematic pitfalls. I’m not here to please, s’il-tous-plait.
