A pioneer of the French New Wave, arguably the most influential filmmaker of the post-war era and a stalwart inspiration for generations to follow, few have revolutionised cinema in the same way as Jean Luc Godard. In 1960, his seminal debut film Breathless (À bout de souffle) starred Jean Seberg and Jean-Paul Belmondo as a pair of star-crossed lovers in Paris, redefining Hollywood’s idea of what a cinematic feature could be through its frenetic undercurrent, handheld camera work, jump cuts and undeniable existentialism. Golden Globe Award-winning auteur Richard Linklater was just one of many whose filmmaking was impacted by Godard’s cinema. Although admittedly not upon his first watch of Breathless, but in the subsequent viewings, “something kicked in” – he got it.

In an ode to Godard, Linklater’s latest feature, Nouvelle Vague, reinvents the story of making Breathless, transporting viewers to Paris in 1959. An exploration of the art of filmmaking and a portrait of one man’s infectious determination, Guillaume Marbeck transforms into Godard in his first leading role. As a director whose humanist approach to cinema immortalises the beauty in youth culture, suburban living and the passage of time, Linklater approaches Nouvelle Vague through that same lens. Marbeck is taking on the role of Godard before fame, creating art with friends on next to no budget and consequently defining a decade. As with many of Linklater’s stories, only with hindsight do the characters realise they lived in a time of change, or experienced a moment of life-altering significance. Shot entirely in black and white on the streets of the French capital, Linklater’s vision could easily be mistaken for having been shot in the 1960s, reigniting the beauty of French New Wave for a modern audience.

In the conversation below, Linklater and Marbeck reunite to discuss the lasting importance of Breathless, transforming into Jean Luc Godard, and the patience required to make art which endures.

Richard Linklater: When I think back on this film, and when people ask me about it, I say, by far and away, what it means to me, and the best part of this movie was working with you and this young French cast. I remember you even telling everybody this; it was this opportunity that had come everybody’s way to express what it was like for young people in 1959. Getting a start at something, having an opportunity in the arts, and that is what it was to all of you; so many in the cast were making their first film. Yourself, famously.
Guillaume Marbeck: I think it’s even more true that cinema has a gate that is very hard to break when you’re trying to make it. And so, as for Godard in ’59, we all face challenges in our different lives, until this project opened a door for us. I think everyone involved in this movie was waiting for a moment to be able to express themselves in high value and a deep level of artistic creation that we all crave as artists. Because of its subject, I’m sure it will resonate more with young audiences in the way this film could maybe shape or orient their lives. For young people, a lot of them told me that just after watching Nouveau, they started a new painting, or making new music. It’s not just about cinema, even my friend, who is a chef, when we were watching the movie, he was elbowing his financial partner of the restaurant, saying, “See, this is true, what I’m telling you, we have to break the rules. We have to make something new.” I think it opens to newness in any form.

“Our images just run all the way through the credits – our own alternate universe.”

RL: In most artists’ careers, they look back and see themselves working alone a lot, perfecting their craft, lying in wait – so to speak – for that big opportunity. You have to make your opportunities. Every actor puts themselves out there to whatever degree they can at the moment, and when that defining opportunity crosses your path, you have to be ready for it. I thought every actor in this movie caught it at the right time in their own development. They were available, maybe they looked a lot like a historical character – or enough like it – but really, they were just the right actor, in the right place, at the right time. It’s wonderful, on this side of it, to be the one giving those opportunities; that’s really thrilling. But I can’t help remembering my own ten years of making films independently, being obsessed with cinema, and then finally getting my [break]. I mean, I made the opportunity for my first two films independently, but then having others invest in me made me realise I was getting to do something I’d always wanted to do.

Your character, Godard, in this movie – he’s exhilarated at the chance to do what he’s been thinking about forever, ten years with his little notebooks and ideas. But even when the opportunity arrives, it’s incumbent on him as an artist to be himself, not to do what anyone expects. His instinct is to be completely himself, even if it irritates everyone. You don’t spend your whole life [wanting] to be a conformist and do what everyone wants – you work your whole life to get the chance to do something different. That’s the opportunity he’s seizing, against long odds, I would say.
GM: Yeah, sure. I think that’s the most challenging part of any creative endeavour. You dream about being part of it, but then, when the opportunity comes, what do you actually do with it? It opens a door to uncertainty and fear – the fear of being an imposter. You have to have the arrogance to say, “We’re going to do something new, something you’ve never seen, something interesting.” But at the same time, you realise how many stories already exist, and you ask yourself: why is this movie so important to you personally? Every story has been told, but the way you tell it is what makes the difference.

“This isn’t how you should make a movie. One guy once got away with it.”

RL: Yeah, that’s the new. Some people say, “There’s nothing new!” But you can find a new form for a traditional story, that’s exactly what Godard did with À bout de souffle. But what about for you personally? I cast you because I thought you had his kind of cocky confidence. I called it the unearned confidence of the first-time filmmaker. You had studied acting, made films that impressed me, done a lot, and been around the industry. You knew a lot, but technically, you hadn’t done it. You hadn’t had a big part in a movie – but that didn’t bother me at all. I just knew you were the right person, and you seemed to handle it really well. If you were nervous at all, you incorporated it exactly the same way… I think Godard hid whatever insecurities he had – he would say a quirky quote, move forward, and turn it around.
GM: I think you have to. There’s one thing you said to me during rehearsals when I was asking questions about casting. I asked, “How do you cast your crew members?” Somehow we ended up there, and you told me, “I prefer people when they have a problem that they’re dealing with on their own. If they can handle it, they don’t have to share it with me. But if there’s a problem they can’t deal with alone, then they have to share it.” [both laugh] I think this lower range of energy – coming from not being sure you can accomplish what you’re asked to do – you have to hide it in places. I’m sure Godard would have done the same until the movie was released. I realised that with Nouvelle Vague, because I’ve never been so close to a project. Once the film is out there, it’s something big, with marketing and everything around it. You don’t control how people think, how it’s received, or whether they like it. You don’t have a handle on that. During the making of the movie, the only control you have is to not be overwhelmed by fear, and to focus obsessively on what you’re trying to make. Sometimes you forget it, but sometimes fear kicks back. [laughs]

RL: With film, you have to compartmentalise. If you try to bite off the whole thing, it’ll crush you. You really just have to think one little step at a time – every day, every shot – and you can control that to the highest degree. We get opportunities to do multiple takes, to try things within our schedule. It’s always a challenge, but I feel like we control that energy and creativity. Then you hit a phase, like you said, where the film is out of your hands. People are watching it, it’s done, it’s at a festival, and they have opinions. I had to learn from my first few films to distance myself. I make my peace with the film when I watch it alone, just after finishing it, and go, “OK, it’s out in the world. Let’s hope it’s accepted in the spirit it was made.” You can’t control everything, so I get aloof. I almost dissociate from it to some degree. What’s been your biggest surprise since the film came out? A lot of actors wonder what it’s like to have a film out there, see your picture everywhere, hear people talking about your character. Has that affected you?
GM: The biggest surprise is… I don’t know if it’s the era we’re in, but it feels like there’s a lot of energy around festivals and events, and then the next day, there’s nothing. It’s like it never happened. There’s no continuity, it just comes in spikes.

RL: That’s a good thing. Wouldn’t it be insane if you had to take it home with you? It’s in its place.
GM: I never thought about it when I pictured actors at red carpets. I assumed it was constant, every day, all their lives. [both laugh] But it’s not, which makes me realise the selling part of the business is just that – for selling the movie. Making the movie is like working on your resume: you perfect what you’ve done, and then you knock on doors. It’s a different energy, different actions. It’s all called making a movie, but it’s different. I knew the subject, I knew you, so I could imagine where it could go, but seeing it in reality feels surreal. My name is out there, and it doesn’t feel real, just like, “Oh, this makes me think I did a movie.” But it is real. [laughs]

“Really, it’s a story about a young man trying to make a movie with a girl, a boy, a gun, and a camera.”

RL: I love that feeling. It’s funny how, no matter what you do – whatever field – it’s a big deal in that room, in that moment. People build these heightened environments to get attention or roll something out. It’s amazing what we create. Then I love the feeling when it’s over, and others take the stage. That minute is done, and you’re back to the real world. You realise, “Oh yeah, that was just this little heightened moment, and nobody’s talking about it now.” [both laugh] You stay a little too long at the party, and it’s like, “Oh, this isn’t the real world.” Suddenly, there’s no attention. I love the transient nature of these heightened experiences. And twenty years from now, someone can watch it. I watch films from the past and think, “I love this movie. None of the people who worked on it are alive anymore, but thank god for the energy they put in back in 1942.” It’s a little record of passion within a moment in time. It connects me to the history of cinema.
GM: Yeah, it feels like watching some architecture from the past. Nobody who worked on Notre Dame is still alive, but you can still testify to the beauty.

RL: Exactly. While making our film, no one we were representing was still alive – the assistant editor was, but no one else. So you stood there, and all the cast were representing icons. I kept telling everyone, “Hey, you’re just a young person with an opportunity.” I wrote that manifesto to remind myself: this iconic movie that changed cinema was just some young people trying to express themselves and make it through their day. You had to be real people in your time, doing your best, not playing the result of making an iconic film.
GM: That’s great, because until the end credits, if you don’t know the story, you can’t tell if this film is going to become something or not. It could feel invented. If you really didn’t know that era, you might think it was all made up. It’s incredible that a director could make a film without a conventional script or detailed dialogue.

RL: I do tell people: don’t do this at home. This isn’t how you should make a movie. One guy once got away with it.
GM: Really, it’s a story about a young man trying to make a movie with a girl, a boy, a gun, and a camera.

RL: Yeah, that’s about it. [both laugh]
GM: He hoped for the best with all those notes in his notebooks for years.

RL: A head full of ideas.
GM: How do you feel about having two movies selected at the Golden Globes in the same category, the same year?

RL: That wasn’t on our radar. I woke up a couple of mornings ago with a bunch of text messages. I was like, “Wait, what’s going on?” Usually, our college text chain is just one group of guys, but this was from all over. I had no idea they were announcing the Globes. I don’t think people thought we really had a chance, so it was a surprise. A friend pointed out I’m the first person since 1963 to have two films in that category.
GM: Who was it before?

RL: George Sidney, a great director. He had Bye Bye Birdie, a fantastic musical, and a lesser-known film called It’s a Ticklish Affair, which I don’t even know. Two musicals or comedies.
GM: You’re going in the Guinness Book of World Records.

RL: I seem to have offended some people, because there were a number of high-profile films that expected that slot, and it went instead to these two lower-budget indies. Combined, our budgets for these films were still only a fifth of what some of those studio films had. You might have noticed we weren’t exactly a big-budget production.
GM: For France, that’s not too bad.

RL: Yeah, average to low budget. We were a period piece, so we had to recreate a lot – 1959 Paris, all that detail – so it cost a little more. But compared to the big US studio films expecting that slot, we were still small potatoes.
GM: How confident were you about the special effects on day one, when you hadn’t seen any footage of how Paris would ultimately look?

RL: Well, it was fun. You need patience. We controlled our immediate environment, but the background was still 2024, or whatever. We knew we’d have to add cars, remove things… I just trusted it would come together eventually. Sometimes it took months of back and forth – like the street where Belmondo dies at the end. At first, it looked terrible, like bad carpeting on cobblestones. I’d think, “They’re ruining my movie,” and then it would get better. I don’t know why I was so confident, but I knew it would work. And it’s the kind of visual effect people don’t notice – the best kind. It’s like Planet of the Apes in 2001, people thought they were real apes, so no awards, no recognition, just disbelief. That’s the ultimate compliment. People think we shot this in 1959.
GM: Do you plan to make a sci-fi film?

RL: Oh, I don’t know. I did a little dystopian stuff with A Scanner Darkly twenty years ago – it’s vaguely sci-fi – but I’m a skeptic. I go, “Well, that could never happen. That doesn’t seem likely.”
GM: You could do Before the Apocalypse with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. [laughs] Was Breathless the first Nouvelle Vague film you saw as a young person?

RL: Yes, it was the first from that era I saw, around age 21, just getting into movies.
GM: Had you already made short films by then?

RL: No, I hadn’t started shooting yet. I was just watching a lot of films and reading about them. I’d shot some film and done photography, so I knew the darkroom, but I wanted a foundation. I thought, “I need a layer of knowledge beneath myself.”
GM: So it’s fair to say that Breathless influenced your whole career.

RL: I didn’t really like it the first time, I didn’t understand it. It clicked on subsequent viewings. By the second time, something kicked in, and I got it. I wish I had a better story. I barely knew the genre at the time, but I caught up soon enough.
GM: When was the last time you watched Breathless?

RL: From beginning to end, as a viewer? I can’t tell you. During production, we watched clips while recreating moments, but I don’t think I ever sat and watched the whole thing like an actor might. I know Zoey [Deutsch] did, and everyone else did. I didn’t feel the need as I’ve seen it twenty-plus times. Being so immersed in someone else’s film was strange. Honestly, we’ve kind of replaced that film in my mind. When I think of Godard now, I think of you, Zoey, and Aubry [Dullin]. Usually, with a historical film, you bring in images of the real people during the closing credits. I didn’t want that. Our images just run all the way through the credits – our own alternate universe. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten what Seberg, Belmondo, or Godard looked like. They were just our people. I was in that bubble during production, and I think I still am. Maybe in a few years I’ll watch it again and see it differently.
GM: Well, you won’t see Godard in the movie… oh wait, yes, you will – with the newspaper.

RL: Briefly. He has less hair than you did. If I could go back, I’d pluck out half your hair [laughs], but it’s fine, we got the idea.
GM: I had a receding hairline because they cut my hair every morning. By the weekend, it didn’t look good, it was like a half-shaved beard on my head. [laughs]

RL: And then you go to a restaurant, and it’s like, “Wait, what’s going on with that little patch of hair?”
GM: Honestly, it helped me. I developed this confidence of not really caring about anything because my haircut was awful the whole time.

RL: It must’ve been weird growing it back.
GM: Oh yeah. I had to shave it all off. I looked like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver. [laughs] Before I even got the part, I made an AI picture of myself balding with glasses to look like Godard and sent it to Michelle [Guillaume’s partner] to make her laugh. I was desperate. [both laugh]

RL: It never came off that way. That looks more like confidence than desperation. If you can fake that, you can do anything.
GM: I wasn’t desperate. Meeting you and auditioning for a director I respect was already a win.

RL: That’s a good way to look at it.
GM: I figured you wouldn’t cast a nobody as Godard—but you did.

RL: That’s the patience an acting career requires. You have to win the day, win that one meeting. You have to be process-oriented, not results-oriented. Do your best every day, and eventually the opportunity will come.
GM: If you enter the room unprepared, you have nothing to offer. It’s like bringing champagne to a party – if they don’t like it, you don’t get invited again.

RL: I wouldn’t be so sure about that. But thanks for the champagne anyway.

Nouvelle Vague is out in cinemas now.