400 blows

400 Blows

This website would only exist with this film. It might, in some form, but really no. I studied cinema in France when I was barely in my 20s. This opportunity existed for two reasons: the E.U. and France had greater recognition of film as an art form. 

I studied French cinema in Edinburgh. Afterwards, this would not have existed but for two things: my parents’ support in my decision to do a master’s, and Scotland’s own view of cinema as an art form.

What can I say about this film? Well, it’s been over twenty years, and the film has aged. No. Have I? Absolutely.

I knew this while being a total kid on screen. I knew the snobbery of the bourgeois was apparent on the screen when a man huffed as I opened a bottle of sparkling water. Later, the bottle rolled a bit, and it was empty. I caught it. That was the last straw for him. He walked to the front row.

This was the intro. We see Paris of the ’60s through a child’s eyes. I knew this through Spirou first, and the thumbprints of our illustrious lead are in everything from Kes to the catastrophe films of young boys from Lebanon. Antoine is captivated by the reality of how young men are, at one-moment testing boundaries and gaining our sympathy, at another being so alienating and possibly abusive to his mother that it’s hard to feel he is not spoiled. But it’s working-class life, kitchen sink as we watch the repetition of truancy. He is not the only vision; the experience of seeing how other school kids’ families work is so fascinating, the posher and more centred guide to the carnival. To his sense, it looks like a massive prequel to Scarface as he looks at all of Paris as a carnival. You would expect a sign to say, ‘The world is yours.’

When the gym teacher had the kids run away, I upset another person in the cinema. I laughed as the kids ran off, and she complained to the staff. I know this because I saw her at the bar. I laughed at the jokes; I allowed myself to be moved by the story. Therefore, I was an urchin, and it was annoying. 

They sent an usher for the last 20 minutes. 

Dear reader, I wanted to sink into myself and, at the same time, tell the culturati to go fuck themselves. I wanted her to be in a late-night showing in an understaffed odeon of Smile 2, a midnight screening. And see what happened. A zone three one. Something with no one to complain to. Maybe a vue …with a big surprise on the floor. 

And that is why I love cinema. I wanted the ocean like he did. I tried to escape judgment; I wanted to be washed away, see the city and its passions, family, and dysfunction, and know I was not alone as a teen boy.

You will get all this if you have not seen it. Seek it out in a cinema. Let the drama unfold, and be surprised. It will delight you.