Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt is a film about making a film, about the destruction of a marriage, and the conflict between American and European filmmaking interests. It is a film driven by character and theory rather than plot development, and it requires effort on the part of the audience, asking us to give as well as take. Colin McCabe once called it “the greatest work of art produced in postwar Europe,” and while that distinction may not necessarily hold true 46 years later, it does nevertheless remain a seminal work in the career of one of the most important directors in the history of film.

One of Contempt’s primary subjects is the process of making a film itself and from the opening minutes Godard draws attention to the act of filmmaking. The first shot is of Francesca (Giorgia Moll) walking as a camera follows her along on a track. As it reaches the end of the track the camera turns so that it’s looking directly at the audience, a jarring break in the fourth wall that turns the gaze inside out. As we watch the film, the film watches us, making it both film and reflection, making us both subject and object.

This initial mirroring is quickly followed by another, as the film preoccupies itself with the conflict between American and European filmmaking interests. The former, represented by the producer Jeremy (Jack Palance), is characterized as being driven by an economic force while the latter, represented by Fritz Lang playing himself, is characterized as driven by an artistic force. Jeremy’s concern is the bottom line, making money, while Lang’s primary interest is in getting at the meaning of the source material, which in this case is Homer’s Odyssey. Caught in the middle is Paul (Michel Javal), a writer who wants to be an artist but is in an economic position to be “corrupted” by American money. He agrees to re-write the script to Jeremy’s liking and make it more commercially viable, even if that means undercutting the artistic potential of the project.

Paul sets off for Capri, where filming of the movie will take place, dragging his reluctant wife, Camille (Brigitte Bardot), with him. The film’s other major preoccupation is the relationship between Camille and Paul, which is also corrupted by Jeremy and his money. Jeremy aims to have Camille for himself, a fact which is never in question. The first time Camille and Jeremy are on screen together is when Camille comes to visit Paul at the studio after his initial meeting with the producer. As Camille and Paul walk towards each other, Jeremy literally cuts into the space between them with his flashy, red convertible – a Freudian moment if ever there was one. He then coerces Camille into getting into the passenger seat and coming to his home, where Paul will meet them by taxi. An hour later Paul catches up with them and it is immediately apparent that damage has been done, that Camille recognizes what Paul seems determined not to acknowledge: that he’s basically handed his wife over to the producer. A similar scene will take place later, when Paul sends Camille off with Jeremy so that he can stay on set and discuss business. He wonders later why Camille feels contempt for him, but it’s a willful blindness; he knows as well as she does, that Jeremy’s cheque is as much for the script as it is for Camille.

As a means of self-protection, Paul behaves as if Camille has betrayed him, pretending that she’s an active character in the deal between himself and Jeremy. Camille’s lack of agency is established in her first scene, where she and Paul lie in bed – he clothed, she nude – and discuss her body and what he likes about it. She’s broken down into parts, the only way that Paul can see her; she is not a person seen in her entirety by Paul but an object meant to serve his needs at any given time. It isn’t simply Camille who is seen this way, as Francesca is treated in this way as well by Jeremy, who at one point wordlessly bends her over so that he can use her back to write a note. The way that men and women relate to each other in the film is itself a reflection of the film within the film. In the Odyssey, Odysseus is the active character while Penelope’s role is simply to wait for him to return and give her meaning once again. Like Penelope, Camille, Francesca and all other women are empty symbols, waiting for one man or another to give them definition and purpose.

As a filmmaker Godard can be divisive, his name amongst those that have become shorthand for “high art.” Compared to more mainstream fare, his films are slow, contemplative, and go “nowhere” – like many great artists, his work can be considered an acquired taste. The heart of this film is a long scene between Paul and Camille in their apartment where they go about their business and just talk. This is not a scene for a viewer without patience, but it tells you a lot about these two characters and their relationship. Everything you need to know about the film is contained within this scene of marital discord and it works because Godard is confident in what he’s doing and knows how to pull it off. Not every filmmaker can handle a scene like this one, even though it seems simple, and the ease with which Godard guides it from beginning to end is a testament to his abilities.

Contempt is a film that one will either love or hate. It is not a film that is easily consumed and quickly forgotten, but one that reminds you in every frame that it is art with a capital “a.” It is, perhaps, a bit pretentious but if ever a filmmaker had earned the right to a little pretention, its Godard.

Watch a trailer for the movie here: