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When Film Socialism premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May, most reports suggested that Jean-Luc Godard's latest--mostly performed in French, with scraps of Russian, German and other languages sifted in--had subtitles. Not that they were much help to a monolingual American: these subtitles were, as our J. Hoberman put it, in  "''Navajo English'--a form of concrete poetry that offers little clarity but adds another element to the assemblage."

The print of Socialism that was unveiled at the Ryerson theater tonight in Toronto--to a full house, proving that the savviest way to manage a massive festival's opening night is by slotting in a homegrown hockey musical as the main event, and offering a rare new work by a gold standard autuer as ostensible counter-programming--had no subtitles at all. There were intertitles, including all manner of linguistic jokes (at one point, "kiss me stupid" appears on screen just after a narrator intones, "PALESTINE"; an Arabic word is overlaid over a Hebrew word in another), but the bulk of the film went untranslated, not even with "Navajo" misdirection.

The screening started quite late, leading to some lobby debate after the fact: was there a technical issue that prevented us from seeing the subtitles we had been told to expect? Or, in honor of the film's North American premiere, did Godard intentionally strip the subtitles from the print? It would make for a certain kind of symmetry. In France, he showed a film largely in French with subtitles complicating the audible language; perhaps he thought showing a largely English-speaking audience the film with no subtitles at all was complication enough.

One thing is for sure: this version of Film Socialism was enough of a ball breaker that it made a number of other would-be challenging films premiering today in Toronto look like amateur hour.


To an Anselm Kiefer superfan like myself, there's a lot of value to watching the artist work in Sophie Fiennes' Over Your Cities Grass Will Grow, but the doc is deliberately withholding to the point of punishment (I heard someone refer to it as Over Your Cinema Paint Will Dry, which is mean but apt). Press and industry folks spilling out of a screening of John Curran's Stone claimed they found the film unfocused and confusing, which baffles me. I seem to be one of the bigger fans of the film, and I find its refusal to offer clear-cut explanations and motivations to be the thing that elevates it over generic indie small-town noir (also, all the performers really came to play: Milla Jovovich's turn as a seemingly airheaded femme fatale is mindbogglingly unexpected, and Robert DeNiro actually, like, acts, which is news enough these days). Also: Best Fetishistically Photographed Awkward Sex Scene of the Year.

Whatever's behind Socialism's lack of subtitles, to watch the film in that form (alternately inviting the contemplation due a daring avant garde provocation, and replicating the experience of wandering into a movie theater in a foreign country whilst on vacation), felt like being subjected to a dare--as if nothing would make Godard happier than for the entire English speaking world to call 'uncle' in frustration. Casey Affleck's I'm Still Here also premiered here today, and you could say Affleck and Godard's pranks share a common opacity of purpose. But, point Godard -- at least he mitigates the torture by pulling a Chris Marker and cutting to cute, unnaturally mewling cats now and again.