Director: Leos Carax
Writer: Leos Carax
Stars: Leos Carax, Denis Lavant, Nastya Golubeva Carax
Synopsis: A self-portrait of the director and his oeuvre, revisiting in free-form more than 40 years of the author’s filmography.
One of the filmmakers heavily inspired by Jean-Luc Godard’s work is Leos Carax, known for the films Holy Motors, The Lovers on the Bridge, and Mauvais Sang. Carax’s latest work is a short film called It’s Not Me (C’est pas moi, playing in the Spotlight section at this year’s New York Film Festival). Carax is a filmmaker who can be called his disciple in many ways more than filmmaking. It’s Not Me (C’est pas moi) takes inspiration from the French-Swiss director and sends him a lovely goodbye by referring to him stylistically and via a voicemail Godard once left him. Although this is first and foremost described as a “self-portrait” of Carax, covering everything from his film work to his political stands, Godard’s spirit is felt through the film’s entirety, like a ghost wandering through the world watching those it once cared for.
From the flashy editing to the collage-like structure, you sense Godard through Carax’s filmmaking, especially after seeing Scénarios (and the process behind it), which plays at the festival and in the same section. You immediately attach the two, almost like a double bill: the two sides of a goodbye–the signalizing and the departure, one an affirmation and the other honoring the one who left. A tragic note accompanies the imagery–both old (taken from record footage of newsreels, cinema, his old work, and the internet) and new (scenes recently shot by Caroline Champetier, including Dennis Lavant’s Monsieur Merde and Carax’s daughter, Nastya Golubeva Carax)–which the French director intertwines with some comments about everything in his mind.
Everything seems to be taken out of his psyche and rearranged frantically to form a cine-essay of some sort because one of the first questions we hear “Where are you at?” to which Carax responds with: “I don’t know”. A spark of sincerity is haunted by the melancholy that pours all over his films, some of which appear here in newly restored prints. The creative mind is fractured by the existential question about what defines you; Carax answers the only way he can, via the power and prose of cinema. In one of the few scenes that Carax is in, we see him on what is meant to be his deathbed–reflecting on time, memory, and immortalization through cinema employing a single, piercing frame that also evokes this sadness for the passing of Godard.
It is nearly impossible to separate Scénarios from It’s Not Me; the two shorts complement each creative mind and worries in the format they helped grow into a beautiful, potent, and expressive medium. Even the project’s background is tied. This short was meant to be part of a Paris Pompidou Centre exhibit, yet several issues prevented it. Another similarity with Godard is that he almost did an exhibition there but removed himself due to creative and financial disruptions. These are condensed pieces of work. Many of their thoughts are thrown rapidly–everything they can say will be said. The difference is that Scénarios was Godard’s last chance.
Carax, now sixty-three years old and one of the most fascinating cinematic voices in my book, looks back at his experiences and history to evaluate the world today via eyes that are both hopeful and saddened at what’s becoming. He thinks about the crumbling art world and the inhabitable future for his daughter. Carax wants both to be fixed as soon as possible. But he recognizes that much is left to do; many things are left to be said and explored. This is not his “final warning” like Godard, yet it is an overall alarm told through his dream-like collage about the past in all its nostalgic and haunting glory and the troubled now. By the end, he does have an answer to the initial question that prompts this cine-essay.
He leaves it to himself, at least vocally. Visually, however, he is everything that shapes his essence: the paintings, films, records, heroes, and family that leave him with a coveted trophy room. And with his answer, my mind went to The Smiths’ song ‘Rubber Ring’. The song is about coming of age, more so the challenging period of being a teenager who shapes their personality depending on what they like. The second verse contains the following lines: “The passing of time and all of its sickening crimes is making me sad again. But don’t forget the songs that made you cry. And the songs that your life. Yes, you’re old now, and you’re a clever swing. But they were the only ones who ever stood by you.”
Morrissey says we should never forget what shaped us during our early years, even if the impact or admiration may have diminished over time. For Leos Carax, those influences include Ernst Lubitsch, Jean-Luc Godard, Howard Hawks, Sparks, and many others. He has never forgotten them, as evidenced in his filmography and collaborations. Nevertheless, Carax showcases the boldness and freeform tangibility we admire in his work, continually pushing boundaries while honoring the cinematic traditions that inspired him. Each film reflects his unique vision, blending nostalgia with innovation in a personal and expansive way. And It’s Not Me reflects that with a dreamy pattern. (As a bonus, you have Baby Annette dancing to David Bowie’s ‘Modern Love’.)