The most praiseworthy aspect of Godard's work may be that it never purports to be something that it is not. For a couple of other reasons besides this, Bande à Parte didn't get relegated to the arena of kitsch. Since Godard's style changed dramatically from film to film, his pulpy followings never congealed to the thickness of a John Waters or an Ed Wood fan base. He also creates a whimsical atmosphere that remains consistent throughout, the mark of a good director, if not a great writer. Perhaps the best moment arrives when Karina sings on the subway, a sad song that reflects her state of mind more than it supports the story.

An irony exists that helps to bridge the comprehension gap between contemporary French filmmaking and the old New Wave. Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Amelie, despised by many a self-titled film buff who will readily claim any of Godard's pieces as an automatic better film, nods to him while also upstaging the New Wave giant. On the whole, Jeunet creates a more interesting, character-supported, and sweetly rendered peek at French filmmaking. Why? Attention to detail, involvement of the audience in the experience, ideals possessing no substitutes.

What Godard has put down for posterity often looks good, but fails to deliver in any tangible way. The sites of Paris, the offhand innocence of a young girl, and the excitement of being in a "band of outsiders" holds universal appeal to youthful decadence, an audience that bemoans the perception of the grass always being greener on the other side of the pond. In reality, though, Bande à Parte does little else to conjure the imagination or inspire.

It ends, as it began, at nowhere, but at least the journey held some little magic as it went along. Perhaps that, more than an overt reaction to the mainstream filmmaking of the time, held the greatest importance to the writer. I liked the middle parts most.