Godard and Almodóvar in Paris

Dave Calhoun reports on two intriguing new exhibitions in Paris.

Jul  7 2006

Last summer I interviewed Jean-Luc Godard at his home in Rolle, Switzerland, where he indulged in a characteristic grumble about the guardians of today's film culture, and especially metropolitan curators (or, as he so sweetly put it, 'people like you'). In hindsight, his anger was probably fuelled at least in part by his stormy relationship with those in the hot seat at the Centre Pompidou in Paris, where he was supposed to curate a quite different show to 'Voyage(s) en Utopie', which currently occupies one of the Pompidou's smaller spaces. Godard's original plan was for a much larger, more ambitious show, but a major disagreement with its curator – Dominique Païni, former director of the Cinémathèque Française – meant that his plans were abandoned earlier this year.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, given this history and Godard's well-documented bleak demeanour, 'Voyage(s)' is defined by bitterness, disappointment and pessimism. On entering the exhibition, visitors are faced with a blown-up newspaper cutting relating to the first, abandoned collaboration. A reference to 'artistic', 'technical' and 'financial' difficulties has been defaced so that only the last word – 'artistic' – is clear. This sense of a cheeky settling of scores continues in the first room of three – called 'Avant-Hier' ('The Day Before Yesterday') – where Godard has placed his wild models for the abandoned show, alongside small screens playing extracts from his films and scrawlings and objects on the walls relating to influences such as Racine and Goya.

Frustratingly, the models seem both more exciting than what's actually on offer and completely – if pleasingly – impractical (a room-sized flick-book; a giant film spool; a life-size recreation of a desert village with the Hollywood Hills in the background). In contrast, the present exhibition is a living scrapbook defined by an aesthetic that looks deliberately thrown together (wires hang from the ceiling; signs are hand-written; re-flooring is incomplete).

The second room, 'Hier', is a more satisfying expression of Godard's career and influences: small screens show extracts from his own films, while larger screens show clips from Lang, Rossellini, Cocteau and Nicholas Ray. The mood is more fruiful. A mini-jungle of luscious green pot-plants sits in the middle of the room. A model train runs back and forth through a tunnel into the first room, carrying cigars and tennis balls (two of Godard's passions). But it's never more than tantalising, scrappy and mildly provocative.

It's the final room – 'Aujourd'Hui' ('Today') that is the clearest expression of Godard's current thought. More bare than the other rooms, its only evidence of cinema is a widescreen TV that sits on the pillows of a double bed playing Ridley Scott's 'Black Hawk Down'. Three other TVs play Eurosport, hardcore porn and the mainstream French channel TF1. In one corner sits a modern fitted kitchen. Scrawled on the wall is a grumble about mobile phones. Cinema is dead, Godard seems to be saying, and so is his role within it. Oh, and mobile phones really suck, don't they…?

This is autobiography made real by an artist with fresh new gripes and plenty of old ones and a burning sense that everything has gone to seed. It's infuriating, of course, but mildly pleasing that Godard still has some fire in him. All in all, though, the failure of his initial plans appears to have negated the possibility of anything truly radical or cohesive appearing here.

Across town, at the new Bercy home of the Cinémathèque Française, an altogether different mood defines '¡Almodóvar: Exhibition!' This more conventional show has been curated with the full support and assistance of Pedro Almodóvar, who has lent personal and professional effects – notebooks, photos, costumes, props.

An Almodóvar red bathes the entire exhibition, which is pleasing, playful and interactive. You can watch clips of films and catch segments of a new filmed interview with the director; you can listen to songs from his films; you can even take away a signed page from a reproduction of the script from 'All About My Mother'. There's less of an auteur's touch here – surely Godard was given completely free rein at the Pompidou? – but Almodóvar fans will appreciate its detailed commentary on his career and practice.

'Voyage(s) en Utopie, Jean-Luc Godard, 1946-2006' is at the Centre Pompidou to Aug 14. '¡Almodóvar: Exhibition!' is at the Cinémathèque Française to July 31.

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