The year revolution brought the Cannes Film… | Little White Lies

The year rev­o­lu­tion brought the Cannes Film Fes­ti­val to a halt

29 Apr 2018

Words by Justine Smith

Three men in suits, one with glasses, seated at a table.
Three men in suits, one with glasses, seated at a table.
The events of May 68 had a pro­found impact on the film world.

In May 1968, Paris was over­tak­en by its cit­i­zens. Hun­dreds of thou­sands of peo­ple took to the streets in demon­stra­tions against the De Gaulle gov­ern­ment; offi­cial build­ings were occu­pied and a gen­er­al strike held the econ­o­my hostage. On the brink of rev­o­lu­tion, artists and stu­dents pushed to shift the sta­tus quo into a new era. While the momen­tum of the protests began in Feb­ru­ary of that year, by late June they were all but fin­ished. The events of May 68 also had a pro­found impact on French cin­e­ma, mark­ing a turn­ing point of rev­o­lu­tion and dis­il­lu­sion­ment that is still felt today.

If the great film­mak­ers of France are to be believed, the gen­er­al strikes that over­whelmed the cap­i­tal began with Hen­ri Lan­glois. In Feb­ru­ary, Lan­glois who was the co-founder and head pro­gram­mer of the Cin­e­math­eque Fran­caise was dis­missed from his posi­tion. François Truf­faut and Jean-Luc Godard began organ­is­ing demon­stra­tions in order to rein­state him. While Lan­glois got his job back in April, the gov­ern­ment with­drew the sub­sidy for the Cin­e­math­eque on the eve of the Cannes Film Festival.

From the begin­ning, the 21st edi­tion of Cannes stood on shaky ground. While it seemed that it might be pos­si­ble that the fes­ti­val remains untouched by the strikes grip­ping Paris, that was quick­ly dis­suad­ed as stu­dents began infil­trat­ing the festival’s nar­row boule­vards and by the third day, film­mak­ers and jour­nal­ists went on a one day strike in sol­i­dar­i­ty. The group, la comité de Défense de la cin­e­math­eque, which includ­ed Godard and Truf­faut, organ­ised events and manned a booth among sell­ers and buy­ers, hand­ing out pam­phlets in sup­port of sav­ing the Cin­e­math­eque. By Sat­ur­day though, the fes­ti­val began to unrav­el. Claude Lelouch and Alain Resnais with­drew their films from the fes­ti­val; Roman Polan­s­ki, Mon­i­ca Vit­ti, Louis Malle and Ter­ence Young stepped down from the jury.

Debates reigned among mem­bers of the com­mit­tee. While they agreed to occu­py the screen­ings of the remain­ing films, they were divid­ed on whether or not to con­tin­ue the fes­ti­val unof­fi­cial­ly. Godard believed they should con­tin­ue screen­ing films but make them free and open to the pub­lic, while Truf­faut was in favour of a com­plete halt. Oth­er film­mak­ers con­tin­ued to with­draw their films and the Fes­ti­val Pres­i­dent at the time, Favre Le Bret, tried to strike up a deal with the dis­grun­tled film­mak­ers: we will not award any prizes, but please allow for­eign film­mak­ers to screen their films as planned.

Jour­nal­ist and nov­el­ist Rena­ta Adler was in France report­ing on the event for the New York Times. Adler recalls a screen­ing with a par­tic­u­lar­ly tense atmos­phere. Span­ish film­mak­er Car­los Saura had with­drawn his film Pep­per­mint Frap­pé, but the fes­ti­val decid­ed to screen it any­way. She describes a scene where strik­ers had invad­ed the stage, includ­ing Godard, Truf­faut, Leaud, Geral­dine Chap­lin, and direc­tor Saura. As the film start­ed up they held the cur­tains shut.

Since this was the Span­ish director’s first appear­ance at Cannes, Saura’s sac­ri­fice in the name of the strike was per­haps the great­est of the fes­ti­val. The young group hold­ing the cur­tains shut, being very care­ful not to dam­age the screen, looked a lit­tle like the group plant­i­ng the flag at Iwo Jima – only in the dark, as in a time expo­sure.” The house lights went up and the pro­jec­tion was stopped, in fear that a fight might break out. By Mon­day of the first week, the fes­ti­val was halted.

Many of the rad­i­cal French film­mak­ers involved were had left the streets of Paris to come to the fes­ti­val direct­ly, rid­ing the high off the street con­fronta­tions between the French cit­i­zens and the increas­ing­ly bru­tal police force. Unsur­pris­ing­ly, the events were heav­i­ly doc­u­ment­ed by a wide vari­ety of film­mak­ers. What hap­pened at Cannes rep­re­sents the most high-pro­file cin­e­mat­ic face of this moment, but hard­ly the most rep­re­sen­ta­tive. Even as the rad­i­cal­ism of Truf­faut and Godard were being cel­e­brat­ed in some cir­cles, they were also being con­demned by young film­mak­ers and for­eign­ers, who called them dis­parag­ing­ly the millionaires.”

The Zanz­ibar col­lec­tive was a group of young film­mak­ers who began mak­ing films in 1968 and were direct­ly inspired by the May protests. Spon­sored by an heiress, Sylv­ina Bois­son­nas, these film­mak­ers would make ground­break­ing films that would depict the strikes direct­ly, while also embody­ing the rad­i­cal spir­it of dis­rup­tion at their heart. The col­lec­tive includ­ed film­mak­ers like Serge Bard, Jack­ie Ray­nal, and Philippe Gar­rel. They were the top­ic of a book, The Zanz­ibar Films and the Dandies of May 1968’ by Sal­ly Shafto, who spoke to LWLies about the movement.

One of the films we dis­cussed was the recent­ly dis­cov­ered Actua 1, which was a col­lec­tive­ly made doc­u­men­tary about May 1968. Gar­rel is cred­it­ed as direc­tor, but it is a col­lec­tive film. As of yet, it is not pos­si­ble to see the film out­side of the realm of a fes­ti­val or ret­ro­spec­tive. Shafto gave some insight into the film’s impor­tance, I start­ed doing my Zanz­ibar research in 1998 – 9 when I was asked by the cin­e­math­eque FR, I was asked so I went around col­lect­ing inter­views, almost every­body spoke to me about this lost film, not just Gar­rell, all of them. Even Godard talks about it.” Neil Young, a writer for The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, describes the film as, trav­el­ing shots [tak­en from a car, unob­tru­sive­ly] of tense street sit­u­a­tions in Paris 68… city cen­tre images. Cops stand­ing around. Voiceover alter­nates between man and woman read­ing from same slogan‑y text about revolution.”

As Shafton explains, One of the things that inter­est me in these films, this moment back and forth, the empha­sis on the indi­vid­ual, or a cou­ple and a col­lec­tive.” Many of these films chal­lenge the idea of auteur­ship and cin­e­mat­ic con­ven­tion. Films were treat­ed as col­lec­tives and the spir­it of the avant-garde ran through them.

Bard’s Fun and Games for Every­one is an exper­i­men­tal doc­u­men­tary that takes place at the gallery open­ing of Swiss artists Olivi­er Mos­set. Shot in extreme con­trast, white and black dom­i­nate the screen. Cer­tain faces appear, blur into the sur­round­ing, and an obscured con­ver­sa­tion dom­i­nates. Every once in a while, the exhi­bi­tion is inter­rupt­ed by a slow-zoom into one of Mosset’s paint­ings, a dough­nut-shaped cir­cle on a white can­vas. Shafton con­nects the films, in spir­it at least to an ear­li­er peri­od of artis­tic rev­o­lu­tion, Dada and Sur­re­al­ism. More than just aes­thet­ic, these two con­verg­ing move­ments were polit­i­cal in nature.

This is per­haps more appar­ent in one of the films by Jack­ie Ray­nal, Deux Fois. Ray­nal was one of the only women involved in the move­ment but was also the most accom­plished, hav­ing worked as an edi­tor on many of Rohmer’s Moral Tales films, includ­ing La Col­lec­tion­neuse, The Bak­ery Girl of Mon­ceau and Suzanne’s Career. The film is quite plain­ly about the role of women in cin­e­ma and life. The film opens with Ray­nal eat­ing and explain­ing, obscure­ly, the nature of the film and its nar­ra­tive”. The pres­ence of a blind­ing mir­ror-light and the desex­u­alised and dehu­man­ised view of the naked female body echo the sur­re­al silent films of sur­re­al­ist Ger­maine Dulac, in par­tic­u­lar, The Smil­ing Madame Beudet. The film, much like Bard’s, can be try­ing as it chal­lenges con­ven­tions of image and nar­ra­tive, but it also rep­re­sents a break from the sta­tus quo in a fun­da­men­tal­ly excit­ing way.

The best-known film­mak­ers of the Zanz­ibar col­lec­tive was Philippe Gar­rel, who Shafton said was known as The Rim­baud’ of his time. Gar­rel was just twen­ty years old in 1968 and had already been mak­ing films for ten years. Beyond Actua 1, which depicts doc­u­men­tary images of the streets of Paris, his films from the era evoked more spir­i­tu­al­ly the atmos­phere of rev­o­lu­tion. In his 1969 film, Le lit de la vierge, Pierre Clemen­ti plays a Jesus reborn into a new era. Melan­cholic and polit­i­cal, the film re-imag­ines tales of Christ for the mod­ern age, as Jesus strug­gles to be heard. He wan­ders through war zones, a hint at France’s colo­nial strug­gles but also an echo of the streets of Paris dur­ing 1968, while also bat­tling with doubts over his sex­u­al desires. The film bal­ances a rev­er­ence for youth­ful play while also hint­ing at the creep­ing dis­il­lu­sion­ment with the fad­ing youth movement.

Gar­rel, of course, con­tin­ues to make films into the 21st cen­tu­ry. Per­haps his most notable film of the past twen­ty years is 2005’s Les Amants Reg­uliers, about the events of 1968. The film depicts with har­row­ing recre­ations of the trench-like Parisian streets. It cap­tures the elec­tric­i­ty of the moment and the melan­cho­lia that fol­lowed. Gar­rel main­tains a dreamy haze in his film­mak­ing that lends a myth­ic struc­ture to the film. Rev­o­lu­tion, rather than an action, becomes an atmos­pher­ic occur­rence willed into being in the cor­rect align­ment of stars, plan­ets, and peo­ple. It exists beyond the indi­vid­ual and ulti­mate­ly, can­not be sus­tained. While oth­er film­mak­ers such as Bernar­do Bertoluc­ci to Olivi­er Assayas have depict­ed the events of 1968 on screen, no one has suc­ceed­ed in cap­tur­ing the ethe­re­al and fleet­ing nature of rev­o­lu­tion quite like Garrel.

In 2017, the his­tor­i­cal doc­u­men­tary In the Intense Now sim­i­lar­ly evoked the rev­o­lu­tion­ary atmos­phere of 68. A filmic essay about the nature of activism and social change, direc­tor João Mor­eira Salles tells the sto­ry of three rev­o­lu­tions hap­pen­ing con­cur­rent­ly: May 1968 in France, Maoist Chi­na and Brazil’s mil­i­tary coup. Using archival footage as well as cin­e­mat­ic influ­ences, the film chan­nels dis­il­lu­sion­ment with the film image, that fails to cap­ture and dri­ve social change. Focused on fleet­ing youth and fad­ing pas­sions, the doc­u­men­tary chan­nels the sense of loss when the atmos­phere of rev­o­lu­tion dis­si­pates. In a way echo­ing the calls against Godard and Truf­faut at Cannes, the crowds scream­ing with dis­dain for the mil­lion­aires” to step down, the film ques­tions the val­ue of cin­e­ma cre­at­ed by the priv­i­leged voic­es of the West. Even before 1968, their voic­es were heard and amplified.

The events of 1968 gave rise to new voic­es and a rare chal­lenge to the sta­tus quo, not only with­in French soci­ety but also the wider film world. The films made dur­ing the era decon­struct­ed the idea of cin­e­ma, often reject­ing the nar­ra­tive and aes­thet­ic con­ven­tions of main­stream cin­e­ma. In just a few months, a new wave of film­mak­ers were born into exis­tence and many quick­ly fad­ed back into obscu­ri­ty. These films main­tain rel­e­vance in ques­tion­ing the role of artists in times of social change and the pow­er of cin­e­ma in dri­ving revolution.

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