One of the classes I’m taking this semester is Radical Literature of the 60s, a senior seminar. I’m a of movie buff and, for my final paper– if it ever comes together– I’m writing about Jean-Luc Godard’s 1962 film, Vivre Sa Vie.

I won’t go into the details of the paper now, in large part because it’s largely not done… but Susan Sontag, whose criticism I’ll be in conversation with in saidddddd paper calls it “one of the most extraordinary, beautiful, and original works of art that I know of.” While I can’t agree completely with all her arguments, I really feel that way about this film.

But I’ve rewatched this film a few times in the last few weeks and it’s sort of like being reunited with an old friend. A teacher recommended it to me when I was in high school, which in retrospect might seem inappropriate. The “plot” of the film follows this woman played by the beautiful Anna Karina as she leaves her husband and son, attempts to become an actress, ends up becoming a prostitute, and finally dies kind of stupidly. So her abandonment of her responsibilities are certainly reprehensible and yeah she’s a prostitute, which has all sorts of stigma attached to it.

Still for some reason, or a couple of reasons, Vivre Sa Vie really affected me when I first saw it. I think it was around the time I was applying to college. Watching it again is provoking some similar feelings now as I’m trying to work out what to do next year and beyond. I guess it’s fear, excitement, and embarrassment at my youth and romanticism.

Anna Karina’s character, Nana, is introduced as a little bit deluded, extremely naive, and sensitive almost to a fault. By the end of the film, she becomes hardened by her occupation and experience.

It’s the period of her initial independence that gets me though. There’s a famous scene in the movie where Nana is watching another beautiful film, Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc. Nana’s on a date with some sleazy guy but Godard inserts clips from Dreyer’s film, letting them speak firsthand. You see Joan, played by Renee Falconetti, as she finds out she’s going to die. Her hair is cropped, her lips are chapped and, as her sentence is announced, her face twitches for a minute before it returns to one of devastating repose. I can’t describe it so I’ll just show it to you:

And for the moment Nana’s removed and you become removed and everyone is moved. Nana weeps because, how could you not at a face like that?

The episode is probably the most dramatic. Before and after this bit, we see Nana as she walks, Nana turns tricks, Nana smokes, she dances, and she talks about not being able to talk. But, at the movie theater, she’s devastated.

Like a lot of people who’ve seen the film, I was haunted by this scene. And, according to the myth, Karina’s reaction was the first take. It appears authentic and also feels truthful. I think that’s what I loved and still love about it.