Enfin!

The 400 Blows has been on my interminable list of movies for almost a year. In my mind, it was the epitome of Film, with a capital “f”. It was one of those movies that I could casually name-drop in a room full of my peers, and I would instantly be labeled as a movie elitist, a snob, someone who probably knows the name of costume designers and why, exactly, Clark Gable was so difficult to work with. But mention it in a room of film students, and they would scoff at my immature understanding of French Nouvelle Vague cinema. In the end, I watched this movie just to see what all the commotion was about. And to be honest, I am almost entirely devoid of opinion (imagine that!).

I’ll keep it brief because a long-winded review stating my near-apathy towards a cherished film wouldn’t bode well for my credibility, and probably wouldn’t be very interesting, either.

There were several aspects of this film that I really enjoyed. First, the lack of meaningless dialogue was something I greatly appreciated. I am a words girl through and through, but I think there is something to be said for the art of body language, too. Fifteen-year old actor Jean-Pierre Léaud beautifully embodied the heartbreak and anguish of Antoine, a boy who just can’t seem to succeed, and he did so with a stunning range of facial expressions and mournful stares that gave nonverbal depth to his troubled character.

I also enjoyed the camerawork. This movie does not look professional. It’s what could easily be categorized as “artsy”.  The camera played its role exceedingly well, allowing for the audience to focus on Antoine or the object of his desire, whatever that may be in the current scene. The movie almost seemed like a documentary, but not in a motion sickness-inducing, Blair Witch kind of way. The way that The 400 Blows was filmed lends an element of realism to a movie that has ascended to mythical status.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find the plot to be anything spectacular. While there were moments I did enjoy, like when Antoine’s friend snuck him into the room with the gigantic, taxidermy horse, or when our hero turns in a plagiarized essay which he really didn’t mean to copy (it reminded me of Old School by Tobias Wolff), the majority of the plot is rather mundane. Now, I don’t really know anything about Nouvelle Vague cinema, so maybe the celebrated director Truffaut was making some kind of statement on urban life in the late 50s, but I never really felt anything for Antoine. I had a difficult time following the story with a heightened level of interest because the boy, although clever, seemed like a shell of a fully-developed person.

The score also left me cold. Yes, I will admit to thinking it was cute, but it was also painfully repetitive and, in my opinion, inappropriate for the majority of the film. Usually, I am in favor of recurring themes in an overall score, but the same piece of music appeared, unchanged, on several occasions.

Even though The 400 Blows will probably never make it onto my list of favorites, one of the movies I watch over and over until I know it by heart, I found myself grinning ear to ear when the credits rolled (I won’t spoil the ending). Who am I to criticize what is lauded as one of the greatest films of all time? Maybe I missed the point, and I’ll probably have to watch it again a couple of years down the road. For now, I’m content to be able to offhandedly mention this film and willingly accept the title of film snob.   


 "Every time I cried, my father would imitate me on his fiddle, just to drive me nuts. One day I got fed up and I knocked him out."


Click here to watch the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i89oN8v7RdY