Why do we need a story?

This evening, I saw Jean-Luc Godard's Passion at Cinematheque. About half an hour into the film, I realized how much I was loving it - something I hadn't experienced in cinema since Children of Men (although I hadn't visited any cinema between these two films). It was a reaction I had hardly anticipated, especially after my good friend Shane told me how much Passion annoyed him. I could only watch half of Tout Va Bien; I almost fell asleep in the second half of Week-end. I knew many films Godard made after Week-end were unwatchable. Consequently, I went into the cinema with very, very little expectation, but came out with a smile.

Unaware I was that Passion came out after Sauve qui peut (la vie) - the film that commenced the poetic, reflective current of Godard's recent (which means 80's onwards) work. My impression of this period is that Godard would base a film on a few ideas, paint beautiful tableaux of images, throw a few ear-catching aphorisms, evoke a poetic mood through powerful classical music, and interrupt it from time to time with the grin of a mischievous innovator. The success of each film depends on attractiveness of these ideas, images, aphorisms, and music. In the case of Passion, the ideas revolve around the comparison between the a person's work and the act of loving. Of course, there's the eternal pride for art-house cinema: why do we need a story? Furthermore, what is the use of understanding? Three words to the appreciation of art: just take it. Unsurprisingly, what Godard and Coutard offer visually is absolutely ravishing. The imitation of classical paintings rivals the work of Sacha Vierny for Peter Greenaway. The rectangular pond in the middle of a film set with nude ladies posing around it instantly reminds one of Prospero's Books. Nevertheless, one can say that much of the visual beauty owes its effectiveness to the soundtrack: Mozart's Requiem most notably (frankly the only one I can name on top of my head).

I could understand that this film is not for everyone who takes film seriously. Its disjoint narrative refuses to deliver the story in any conventional method. A few people walked out. Sounds of fidgeting lingered among the lousy chairs throughout the film. After it finished, some Godard fans announced loudly that the movie amounted to "utterly pretentious drivel." Again, it all depends on whether the audience resonate with the the film's ideas and sensationalism. I, for instance, surrendered my senses completely to the full blast of Mozart's Requiem (my favorite choral work after one particular aria from St. Matthew's Passion). After that, everything looked fine and felt satisfying.

Between Passion and A Zed and Two Noughts, I will probably watch the former 5 times before setting my eyes and ears on the latter once more. Not that I don't appreciate Vermeer and time-lapse photography, but I sometimes find Greenaway's work so aloof and academic.

I missed Sally Potter's Orlando though. I think I need to read the book first.