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A Jump-cut in History: How Breathless Revolutionized Filmmaking

3/27/2023

by Hope Roberts

In 1960, director Jean-Luc Godard’s crime, drama film Breathless was released. The plot follows a man called Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo), who is on the run after killing a policeman. Not knowing where to turn, Michel resorts to asking his American journalist girlfriend (Jean Seberg) to run away with him.

The film is not only revered for its intense plot, but for its stylistic acting and editing techniques too. Throughout, there are many long takes in which the actors improvise off of one another and, at times, it is edited with numerous jump cuts that cue “jump forwards” in time have occurred and that are able to create a rich and full story for the audience to dive into.

The strange and innovative techniques that were established in this film have given it the reputation of one of the classics of world cinema.

There are many instances in which a writer can incorporate an allusion into their work, but they all are to be placed to serve a purpose. To put it simply, “[A]n allusion is an indirect reference” (Irwin 287). However, in this case, we are more closely examining literary allusions: indirect references that are utilized to help readers or viewers keep certain people, places, events, other literary works, or any source in mind when reading or watching the material. These references can form an association within one’s mind. Directors and screenwriters can influence their audiences through the use of allusions. In the case of Breathless, there are multiple allusions that Godard implements throughout the film that could contain various meanings.

The opening frame of the film is dedicated to Monogram Pictures, a production company that is well-known for creating and releasing B-movies such as Montana Incident (1952, dir. Lewis D. Collins), a famous Western about two railroad surveyors, and Suspense (1946, dir. Frank Tuttle), a noir-drama about a man who works for an ice-skating magnate.

Godard could have included this frame for a multitude of reasons: he might have been paying homage to the company itself for releasing movies that could be seen as subpar and giving them the credit they deserve, or he might have also put it in as an Easter egg for film buffs, to make them excited about the story to come. Personally, I believe that Godard added these frames because of the former: Monogram Pictures was known for not making ground-breaking films, and its placement at the beginning of the movie could be a subliminal message. One of the most important aspects of watching a movie, in order to enjoy it, is by going into it with the right mindset. When people go into a Hollywood movie, they do so certain expectations, and if those expectations are not met, they will most likely leave the theater feeling disappointed.

By referencing a B-movie company right away, the director might have been trying to get the audience to subtly think of the film as being on the same level as a B-movie without them realizing or trying to make a commentary on B-movies in general. This way, the viewers would’ve gone into the movie with a lower set of expectations, causing its appeal to strike a wider audience.

If, however, it is the latter option, Godard might have just had a great deal of respect for cinema and Monogram Pictures in general, and wanted to show his appreciation by paying homage to it at the beginning of his own work.

Overall, I do not believe that Godard went into creating this film with the goal of violating filmmaking conventions as a way of creating shock and surprise. If he wanted to do so, he could have gone and pushed the limit much further than how he ended up doing. However, as it turns out, it was not in Godard’s original plan to implement the editing technique that made Breathless so widely known. “His jump-cut technique […] like most innovations, it came about accidentally: the rough cut was too long, and Godard and his editors hit upon the idea of snipping out the extraneous linkages in storytelling” (Rainer 1).

Despite all the praise the film and those who had worked on it received, the jump cuts were never actually something that was planned, but rather decided upon in the last stage of post-production. So, Godard did not set out to try to purposefully mess with his audience: he did so in order to adhere to the runtime requirements. In the long run, the decision ended up being extremely productive for the crew due to the massive turnout the film has received over the years. They were able to create a new technique of filmmaking and a different take on storytelling while still keeping a cohesive plot.

The way in which Godard and his crew made this film incoherent-like almost reflects the way of the environment at the time: “[T]he French [...] tend to be drawn to ideas, while the English [United States] distrust them, with the result that English art is often less intellectually informed than one would wish” (Cohen). When viewing the film, keep this in mind: it makes sense for the plot and acting to not be always straight-laced, as they were never meant to be.

Similarly to the rough jump cuts throughout the film, the editing is not the only aspect of Breathless that stands out: the performances from the main actors are not what one would classify as following the traditional standard of characterization and acting.

The most obvious way in which the two actors depart from the standard of acting is that there are many scenes in which the two engage in improvisation. With improv, actors have little to no rehearsal because it is something that has to come in an instant. With the newly created lines, the other actor has to make split-second decisions on how to emote and what their next line should be. Without the use of a script, the activity is no longer “typical” acting, but whatever the actors can think up on their own. The dispensation of rehearsal in favor of improv causes two major problems that can make the acting unrealistic.

The first issue that arises from the situation are the awkward pauses between the actors: because they do not have a script, they are forced to come up with their own reactions and responses to what the other is saying or doing, which is nearly impossible to do without awkward pauses and causes the scenes to come across as unrealistic and not what one would typically expect from a movie. It may seem as though the pauses would better reflect real life, due to real life not being scripted, but this film is not exactly trying to emulate reality. If so, it would be a documentary or, at the very least, a documentary-esque movie. However, since it is not, there are certain liberties that one takes with film, a certain suspension of disbelief.

The second major problem that can result from doing improv is that there is no guarantee that what is said will connect to and support the plot. The greatness of screenplays is oftentimes based onto the fact that every aspect of it either factors or plays an important part in the story. If the actors have to improvise the majority of their lines, there is a good chance that all the acting will do is merely pad out the runtime while adding nothing meaningful to the plot.

On the other side of the argument, the improvisation might benefit the film in that it is not traditional and will make itself stand out amongst other films of that time (and even today).

However, while Godard allowed his actors to interpret their lines as they wished, he did have a plan to keep the story on track. “Coutard [the cinematographer] has stated that the film was virtually improvised on the spot, with Godard writing lines of dialogue in an exercise book that no one else was allowed to look at. Godard would give the lines to Belmondo and Seberg while having a few brief rehearsals on scenes involved, then filming them” (Matthew).

By giving his actors notes, Godard was able to keep a form of consistency to the plot while keeping that “natural” feel of improvisation.

Breathless can be seen as having an overall awkward tone due to both the improvised long takes and the inclusion of numerous jump cuts, as it is strange to combine the two so heavily in a single body of work due to their juxtaposed nature, which causes disorientation.

Long takes are typically employed so that the audience can have a better understanding of the environment, the characters, and the plot while providing a more realistic take for the viewers, while jump cuts remove aspects from the plot, giving the impression that there is a hole in between shots, causing a sudden change that ignites feelings of confusion and agitation. By choosing to film and edit this way, Godard presents a stark contrast between the scenes in which these techniques are employed, and forces the audience to pay closer attention to what is and isn’t important.

When viewing Breathless, it is easy to see the influences of neorealist French filmmakers such as Jean Renoir and of realist film theory that were employed by Godard. Neorealist films tend to represent modified versions of reality, which this film does, but there are many instances in which the extent of that realism is pushed past the boundaries of what can and cannot be considered realistic too.

When considering wherever Breathless contains anything realistic or not, the answer to that is definite: certain aspects of the plot are heavily influenced by real-life events. Francois Truffaut, a collaborator of Godard, “[H]ad been inspired by a true story that had fascinated tabloid France in 1952, when a man named Michel Portail, a petty criminal who had stolen a car, shot a motorcycle policeman who pulled him over, and then hid out for almost two weeks [...]. Portail had an American journalist girlfriend who he had tried to convince to run away with him” (Hitchman and McNett). So while the more specific details of what happened when portail was in hiding and the conversations he had with others may not be an exact replica of what truly occurred, the basic concept of the man is inspired by a news story from the time.

Godard’s fascination with the idea of life as depicted by the medias is what inspired the story based on real events mixed with fictional overdramatization. While the news does report on events, some tend to tell only the more dramatic aspects, overexaggerating them too in order to increase viewership, a style and tone of storytelling that Godard wished to replicate with his film.

Despite it being over sixty years old, Breathless should still be considered by today’s viewers an innovative and dynamic piece of cinema. Wheeler Winston Dixon claims that: “Seen today, Breathless seems primitive, classic, not at all the audacious ground-breaker it seemed to be in 1959. The jump cuts which were so radical then are now a staple of MTV.” There are many flaws that can be pointed out in Dixon’s argument. His reasoning as to why Breathless can no longer be seen as innovative hinges on the belief that, because the techniques that made the film stand above the rest during its time are now seen on the average television program and have become basic methods that are frequently utilized, then they make the film lose all the creativity and innovation it held in the past.

Instead, I would argue the complete opposite of what Dixon is trying to convince his readers of. The jump cuts might have never become the staple the are today if it were not for films like Breathless, which took a chance at trying something new and stylized. Furthermore, if Dixon’s logic is to be followed regarding every film that invented techniques that are now considered to be mainstream, then the argument could extend to other innovative pieces such as Citizen Kane (1941, dir. Orson Welles), which is regarded as one of, if not the, greatest films of all time. Responsible for the establishment of countless new innovations in cinema history, this film is most notable for the application of deep focus, which is a cinematic technique utilized by many filmmakers nowadays. Therefore, does this somehow take away from the film that did it first? Should Citizen Kane be viewed as primitive and no longer ground-breaking simply because the incredible systems they created are now common practice?

These films should not be insulted because their techniques have become mainstream, but praised for it. Because of the crews who worked on these films, people today have so many more tools in their arsenal to make great movies. Dudley Andrew makes an interesting point when he states that “Breathless belongs to that very short list of films that stunned audiences in their own time and continue to stun us today.” While the utilization of jump cuts is much more prominent in today’s time, I cannot recall a film or television show that has implemented them in the same way as Breathless. Watching this film was a bizarre and wonderful experience, and it still stuns me with the creative choices that were settled upon.

WORKS CITED

Cohen, Paula Marantz. “The Potency of ‘Breathless’: At 50, Godard's Film Still Asks How Something This Bad Can Be so Good.” American Scholar, vol. 78, no. 2, 2009, pp. 110–114., https://doi.org/https://web.p.ebscohost.com/ehost/detail/detail?vid=4&sid=4e3b2825-f286-4a51-bce1-bf5edd6ce209%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZSZzY29wZT1zaXRl#AN=37155447&db=asn.
Hitchman, S, and A McNett. “Breathless (a Bout De Souffle) - Jean-Luc Godard.” Newwavefilm, http://www.newwavefilm.com/french-new-wave-encyclopedia/breathless.shtml.
Irwin, William. “What Is an Allusion?” Journal of Aesthetics & Art Criticism, vol. 59, no. 3, Mar. 2001, https://doi.org/https://web.p.ebscohost.com/ehost/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?vid=11&sid=cefa381d-2bc9-476b-bd80-cb4c2b483caf%40redis.
Matthew. “Breathless (1960).” Classicartfilms, http://www.classicartfilms.com/breathless-1960.
Rainer, Peter. “Breathless: Movie Review.” Christian Science Monitor, June 2010, p. 1.

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A New Age of Diversity, not Orientalism

3/26/2023

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By Lau Lu-Zheng

Crazy Rich Asians, by Jon Chu was released in 2018, and blew Hollywood and it's international spectatorship by storm. also authored the documentaries of Justin Bieber: Believe (2013) and Never Say Never (2011). If one is into dance movies, you’ve probably seen his youth-audience targeted smash hit series Step Up. Still no clue? How about G.I Joe (2013) and Now You See Me 2 (2016)?

The film won the 2019 Golden Globes Best Comedy Motion Picture, alongside many other awards. However, it also gained controversy, criticized for exoticizing South-east Asians and painting them in an unrealistic light. In this article, I explore the means in which people might deem this novel-adaptation an “Orientalist” film, and how instead, it can be seen as the breaking of stereotypes, and the celebration of the Southeast.

The Palestine-American critical thinker Edward Said (1935-2003) in his book, Orientalism regards the term Orientalism not just as “the academic study of the Orient”, but historically, the subjugation of the Orient. He continues to say that the “Orient”, then is not just the homogenized Middle East, East and Southeast Asia, but the advantageous(lucrative? shrewd?) epistemological mindset of the Western, as he writes: “(the) Western style for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient.” (3) From sensual depictions of Middle Eastern women in paintings of the 1800s, to the films we indulge in to this day, Said heightens our senses to the historical and present-day media that subconsciously play into this idea that the Westerner domineers over the eroticised, sensual and mystical Easterner. However, Said’s discourse and exposure of Orientalism does not conclude with his advocacy for boycott, much like we do in our hypersensitive present. Instead, in the 1970s when the book was published during the height of Orientalist Hollywood filmmaking, his total focus was against the “distortion and inaccuracy”(9) of the communities depicted.

In Crazy Rich Asians, Rachel Chu, an Asian-American (much like the director himself) travels to Singapore to meet her boyfriend’s family who turns out to be the richest family in the city. In this isolated reality above the gentry, one cannot argue against the patterns that might convey Orientalism: Nick’s scoffing mother despises Rachel for her poverty, and sends investigators to expose her family’s messy past, exemplifying a overly political and harsh asian older woman — whereas younger asian women are seen in colorful dresses and bikinis, seemingly one-dimensionally present for their exotic beauty. How can one condone this apparent blatant misrepresentation of peoples, just for an aesthetically pleasing epic?

Often we are concerned with the matter of representation, and indeed with the monopolization of media by Hollywood, it tends that only the Western upper class can be heard, but this does not disclude the diaspora that make it out of their quasi-rural countries. Jon M. Chu is a first generation Chinese-American, his parents immigrants from China, now running a restaurant. The film is adapted from the fictional novel by Kevin Kwan, but is based on the Chinese (race) in Singapore, not from China — significantly different in culture.

Hence, it would have been easy for Chu to have depicted the population he has never been to, homogenizing “Chinese”(referring to nation) culture, assimilating Singaporean Chinese into the larger nation of China that he would have any personal knowledge of. Instead, there was intentionality in the preserving of accuracy in the portrayal of cultures, much like how Said hopes in his book, Orientalism. In an interview with Vine, he recalls specific mise en scène, referring to the Peranakan (mixed Chinese-Malay) speciality wall tile designs and the set team's mistake of putting up white lanterns, a symbol of death used in funerals instead of red lanterns, prosperity inviting symbols. Getting mahjong experts to build a symbolic game for them, asking for input from local actors: Additional post-production work, delays and costs were added to the production because of Jon’s stress on getting culture right and not distorting it.

Chu can also be seen to advocate for the Asian acting community in Hollywood, much less deprecate them. After 25 years, it would historically be the second ever full Asian cast to be represented in Hollywood studios since the screening of Joy Luck Club in 1993. In between and even before, it was not uncommon for the Asian Hollywood community to play the side role, belittling themselves to fit the racially motivated role. “They think we’ll say yes to anything and we’ll just be grateful,” Constance Wu, lead actor of Rachel Chu, says to a writer about her career.
Jon M. Chu even throws a punch towards orthodox Hollywood by casting Ken Jeong, an American-Korean actor as a Singaporean-Chinese man. In his most famous casting as Leslie Chow, an ineloquent, thick accented mafia leader in The Hangover, Chow retorts: “I'm Chinese, not Korean!” In Crazy Rich Asians, Jeong satirically plays into the stereotype, he begins his appearance in the film by jokingly speaking to Rachel in a thick, incomprehensible Asian accent — only to immediately switch back to fluent english and tell his daughters to finish their nuggets, there are starving children in America — a covert blast against classic misrepresentation in Hollywood.

Historical Cinema is all too peppered with Orientalism, and to those that have seen it happen all too often, ex: Lawrence of Arabia(1962), My Geisha(1962), and even movies that are closer to our hearts such as Indiana Jones(1984), that play into the mystical men and women of the Middle East tamed by the White male, it is not unforgivable to be hyper-sensitive of it in films that attempt to capture and celebrate diversity instead. It is then, as critics of the work graciously provided for us, our responsibility to take up arms against those that might, as Said suggests, distort and inaccurately portray communities, as well as hold up and advocate the minority that stands against a pitifully undiverse industry. Certainly, Chu plays with the conventional stereotypes that have seasoned the writer’s rooms, but through the explanations of these generalizations, he exemplifies a new wave of filmmakers that risk crossing this polarizing matter, without ill-representing or inaccurately depicting communities in the process, ultimately bringing new perspectives and exposure to the International spectatorship.

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Cyberpunk: Edgerunners and the Effect of Mature Content in Media

3/26/2023

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Since the dawn of the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America), rating system and the abolition of Hays Code in 1968, filmmakers have been able to be more forward in the type of content they can add into their films. Fast-forward to current times, and PG-13 and R rated are among the most watched and produced films. Cyberpunk: Edgerunners (2022) is a short anime television series that puts on display just how much a diverse range of mature content can impact the telling of a story in positive ways, as well as just how necessary it sometimes is.

David Martinez is a high school student who lives with his single mother Gloria in Night City in the year 2076. They are a lower class family,, but Gloria works hard to make sure her son goes to the best prep school in the city, where he is looked down upon. After a freak accident kills his mother, David is left alone and Night City, an unforgiving capitalistic society, leaves him high and dry with unpaid bills. After deciding he has enough, David gets a cybernetic implant and eventually joins a mercenary group.
Violence is a central part in many action films and television shows. One could say it is the epitome of conflict management. Oftentimes it jump starts plots as well as ends them. If one is an edgerunner in Night City, the jobs will often have the necessity of fighting and killing. It is a simple fact of how things are in the universe. While some aspects might be able to be toned down, in order to portray Night City as the sort of R-rated place that it is, it kind of needs the snowball effect of different kinds of content being in the show. It really depends on the target audience. How much do you want to sacrifice in terms of content to have a potentially larger audience?
Since Edgerunners is an animated production, the line might be a bit lower on what is generally allowed to be shown. But that gives the show the opportunity to go harder in with the realism and/or stylization. There are people being cut up and shot by cybernetically enhanced individuals, so it is hard to say whether what we see would be an accurate representation of what happens or, rather, a stylized account of it. In terms of realism, it satisfies the hunger for knowledge that prompts us to watch more educational content. As it does not happen, at least usually, people wonder what would happen if this or that happened to somebody, so this show seeks to satisfy their curiosity. When the violence starts getting to the point of stylization, it is mainly for entertainment value. The possibly “primitive” parts of our brains like watching violence, so certain aspects like fighting style and blood content are enhanced beyond realistic expectations. This can also be better for those that do not like seeing realistic blood and gore, as the sometimes goofy nature of stylized violence can take them out of it.

Language is also commonplace in Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, and it does its part to enhance the setting of Night City as a rough place as we follow a gang of mercenaries. It wouldn’t make that much sense or sell the city as dangerous and shady or the Edgerunners as hardened and deadly if the people had the “decency” to not swear. It makes even more sense when they are in high pressure situations (such as fleeing a scene to avoid the authorities), the language evokes a sense of urgency and has a different tone than just casual profanity.
Sexual content and nudity can also be useful in fleshing out a setting or characters. In the case of this type of content, context plays a big role. In one of the first scenes, David is pranked into viewing pornographic material. Contrast that with the many times people are naked around each other seemingly for no reason. Both are surprising, but with the former, it sets up a character named Doc’s personality (as well as likely being a warning to viewers to let them know just what they are getting into). With the latter, some members of the mercenary squad show a bit more skin sometimes (for plot related reasons), and it shows how comfortable the squad is around each other. The same could be said for David and his love interest Lucy towards the end of the show. They are sometimes naked in their apartment together. I would like to think for the same reason the squad does, although the other, more sexual implication might be just as likely, even if the scene itself isn’t like that at all.

Lots of people enjoy seeing more mature content in film and television, although if not done carefully, it can come off as crude and unnecessary (which might be the goal sometimes, i.e. exploitative films). Most of the time, this is achieved through paying attention to the setting, plot, and the characters in the story and trying to be as realistic to those elements so as to necessitate certain types of content. For the same reason people don’t like to see a story where nothing happens, some people would like to see intense things that do not happen as often or at all in daily, mundane life. Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, being a science fiction show set in the future, is chock full of such things that do not happen in contemporary life. And the show handles mature content excellently, both for stylization and entertainment value and to sell just how things are in Night City. It isn’t afraid to show what it can to make the best possible production.

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Titane: A New, Monstrous Humanity

3/17/2023

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by Emma Salvato

French director Julia Ducournau (1983 - ) is not new to stories that focus on the horrors of the flesh: her first movie, a short titled Junior (2011), tells the story of a girl who goes through puberty through the metaphor of a snake shedding its skin, posing it as an unpleasant (and sometimes disgusting) rite of passage. Similarly, Ducournau depicted the passage from adolescence to adulthood in her feature length movie Raw (2016), in which the change from adolescence to adulthood is represented as a horrific experience dictated by insatiable and uncontrollable cravings. In her latest work, Titane, Ducournau settles her characters into adulthood, focusing on the depiction of parenthood, gender roles, and generational trauma.

Alexia (Agathe Rousselle) at the beginning of the movie.

Alexia (Agathe Rousselle), an exotic dancer who performs on the hoods of muscle cars at motor shows, is a ruthless serial killer: robbed of her natural ability to feel empathy when she was a child, during a car crash caused by her father, she has very little tolerance for whoever bothers her. After murdering a fan who forcefully tries to kiss her, Alexia has sex with one of the cars left in the warehouse where the show took place. A little latter, while in the company of Justine (Garance Marillier), Alexia notices that her belly has become swollen and rounded, and is shocked to see the pregnancy test she takes give a positive result. This sudden discovery ignites her homicidal rage and, to the rhythm of Caterina Caselli's Nessuno Mi Può Giudicare (No One Can Judge Me), Alexia goes on a killing spree, murdering Justine and all her roommates except for one. Aware that she's going to be reported to the police, Alexia flees from her parents' home and seeks refuge in another identity: she steals that of Adrien Legrande, a boy who disappeared ten years prior and whose father, Vincent (VIncent Lindon), is still desperate to find.

Forced to mask her true identity and instincts, Alexia begins her new life with Vincent, slowly learning how to take care of other people and how to let others take care of her as, under the weight of her sci-fi pregnancy, her body begins breaking down.

Alexia showering after killing one of her fans.

Despite the emphasis on body horror (Alexia bleeds motor oil, the skin of her belly splits open and reveals that, underneath its thick layer, lays a rounded titanium plate; and at the beginning of the movie, when Alexia takes Adrien's identity, she breaks her nose by violently slamming her head against the corner of a public bathroom sink) the movie does not aim to disgust its audiences. Just like in Junior and Raw, the story's interests lay in the relationship between the characters, how their pasts can be represented through their present day actions. Trauma, in Julia Ducournau's films, is always a pivotal theme, and in Titane, its great generator can be found in faulty parenthood.

When Alexia is introduced, she is a child playing in the backseat of her father's car. Annoyed by the noises she is making, the man turns around to punish her and loses control of the vehicle, causing it to crash at the side of the road. Alexia, who was not wearing a seatbelt, hits her head against the window and is urgently brought to the hospital, where she has to undergo a surgical operation in which a titanium plate is welded onto her skull, leaving her with a gnarly scar and robbed of the innately human sense of empathy. "Watch out for any neurological signs," one of the doctors recommends the day of Alexia's discharge. Her mother and father both utterly fail to follow the advice, either because they are unable to recognize how differently their daughter is acting or because, to put it bluntly, they cannot bring themselves to care enough to notice. Their faulty parenting style, detached and unwilling to prioritize Alexia, is what brings to the catastrophic events depicted in the movie.

In the same way, Adrien's life too has been ruined by his father's inability to be a good parent: throughout the movie, it is hinted that the disappearance of the boy was caused by none other than Vincent, who was an inattentive father. The plot does not seek to give further information regarding what happened to the boy after he went missing: he is to be forgotten by all, even by the screenwriter.

Adrien is, in all senses and purposes, Alexia's mirror.

Alexia as a child, hugging her parents' car after she's discharged from the hospital.

Keywords of this story are "generational trauma": Alexia was left scarred, both physically and mentally, by her parents' inability to take care of her, while Vincent trudges through life riddled by guilt, blaming himself for Adrien's disappearence.

When Vincent picks Alexia, who is posing as Adrien, from the police station, a detective states that they are going to run a DNA test to guarantee that the person claiming to be the missing boy is, in fact, none other than the missing boy, Vincent stops him. "Think I can't recognize my own son?" he asks. It is left open for the audience to decide if the man was always aware that Alexia was tricking him, or if he deluded himself into thinking that the woman is actually his son. By the time he finds out, stumbling into Alexia fresh out of the shower and not yet wrapped in the oversized clothes that conceal her identity, Vincent declares that he does not care for her identity, or why she took Adrien's place: she is her son, and he loves her deeply.

Finally offered this second chance at fatherhood, Vincent struggles to find a healthy place between his old and new ways. The old part of him inhabits the world of toxic masculinity: captain of the local firefighter station, he has become a gym rat with a steroid addiction in a desperate attempt to show the younger men that surround him that he is still superior to them, no matter how old he might get; while the new wants him to be soft-bellied, milk as milk, caring father he never was before. He wants to teach Alexia/Adrien how to shave their face, gives them a piece of titanium that will give their broken nose a more natural shape, employs them at the fire station and immediately ensures that the other guys will not pick on them for their weird looks and frail body, but also wants to keep his position of tough man.

Vincent (Vincent Lindon) right after he injected steroids.

Vincent teaching Alexia/Adrien how to shave.

In a similar fashion, the depiction of Alexia's gender sways from the traditional roles ascribed to women. When she is first introduced, she is an over-sexualized woman - as a showgirl, she is depicted wearing nothing but fishnets and a bikini, and dancing seductively while looking right into the camera, seducing both her diegetic and non-diegetic audiences - who suffers the consequences of being an over-sexualized woman; even her pregnancy, which the movie indicates as having been caused by her sexual encounter with a muscle car, is nothing but what is considered to be the natural consequence of being a woman: it does not matter how much you might not want a child, you will get pregnant and find your true calling in motherhood, one day. Despite everything, Alexia is still not delicate nor in need of protection until she begins posing as Adrien: under Vincent's obsessive attentions, Alexia is suddenly shielded from every harm and critique - Vincent intimidates any of the firefighters who push Adrien around, telling them that they will be fired if they do not respect his son, and later on, when one of them notices that there is something wrong with how the "boy" is acting, the man scares him with the threat of physical violence.

In the world of Titane, women are ruthless serial killers always able to conjure back-up plans on the spot, and men are weak creatures who cower in front of difficult situations, unable to protect what they cherish the most, and haunted by the consequences of their own actions.

Alexia/Adrien and Vincent dancing at a party at the fire station.

In an interview, writer-director Julia Ducournau revealed that the story was inspired by the Greek lore behind the birth of the Titans, the pre-Olympian gods who were banished by Zeus from the upper world. Gaia, the ancestral mother of everything, emerged from the Tartarus and generated Uranus, the personification of heaven, so that he could hold her from every side; laying together, the two created the Titans, imperfect creatures that brought great shame to Uranus, who was so offended by the sight of them that he hid them in Gaia's body. Unable to free them herself, Gaia requested that her children organize an uprise against their father, but only Cronus obeyed the order, surging from his mother's body brandishing a sickle and using it to castrate his father.

It is a story that depicts a desperate, incestuous kind of love, much like the one presented in Titane, in which the lines of what is acceptable and what is not are blurred. Per Ducournau's words, the baby Alexia conceived with the muscle car marks the birth of a new, monstrous humanity.

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