“If you listen to the soundtrack of my film without the images, it will be even better,” suggests Jean-Luc Godard, doyen of French New Wave cinema. This recording is the complete soundtrack – dialogue, music and sounds – of Godard’s film Nouvelle Vague, released in 1990. Reassessments of the relationship between these elements are often interesting, as in Philip Glass’s music from The Thin Blue Line (no, not the TV comedy), issued on record with dialogue and sound bracketing each musical extract, or Derek Jarman’s superb Blue, which relies on sound (the only visual in the film is a blank blue screen).
This is not the place to summarize the content of the film; suffice it to say that Godard’s typical theme of alienation balanced by idealism is well-served by the diverse musical content, which ranges from Hindemith to Patti Smith. Shorn of visual distractions, the music assumes a programmatic role, often subverting the listener’s instinctive prioritizing of the music, dialogue or sounds: the screech of a car blends into a cello phrase; an assured bandoneon melody rises above dialogue and sound with an almost condescending grace.
The main accompanying booklet focuses on the reactions of a sightless listener to the work, although the second, illustrated booklet is a rather subtler stimulus to the imagination. Somewhere between a film-music recording, an audiobook, a collection of music and a pre-canned radio drama, this unusual item is perfect listening for a long, reflective train journey, particularly if you happen to be a Francophone with a taste for the Godard aesthetic.'