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‘Breathless’, the remarkable debut by the remarkable French filmmaker, was brought to life through its small yet captivating two-character synopsis (co-written by Godard and Truffaut). As the filmmaker himself claims, the screenplay was gradually completed during the film’s production. However, the honesty of Godard’s statement is, at least for me, somewhat questionable—partly due to his historically contradictory narratives and partly because this film is fiercely rebellious, vibrantly alive, and profoundly multilayered. The notion that it was assembled day by day and progressed without a plan seems difficult to grasp or accept.
That said, the purpose of this piece is not to verify the filmmaker’s claims—such a task is neither feasible nor relevant, especially now that he is no longer with us. What is clear today is that whether ‘Breathless’ was meticulously designed over countless days or emerged through improvisation, it is so rich and full of potential that its parts can be endlessly analyzed and yield numerous insights.
With this in mind, I’ve decided to focus on some perhaps overlooked details of the film that caught my eye. By grouping these elements together and organizing this note into smaller thematic and chronological sections, I aim to take an almost morphological approach to the film—or at least, I will try. In this exploratory piece, by concentrating on the film’s somewhat ambiguous divisions, I intend to examine at least some of them—certainly not all—in hopes of fostering a fresh dialogue with this 65-year-old cinematic work.

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At the outset, it is necessary to mention that all the timestamps in this note are not perfectly precise and might contain a margin of error of one or two minutes. However, in my opinion, this is negligible!
Now, to begin the discussion more formally, I wish to divide the film into seven sections. How much these divisions—my divisions—can be deemed acceptable (whether to myself as the first reader of this note or to other readers) depends on how we perceive the elements within these sections and their minute details, both collectively and individually, and how they fit into the film. Or in other words, how much these criteria align with other criteria and how much they conflict with some other important criteria.
Therefore, I designate three factors—thematic and chronological elements, the mood or emotional tone of the scenes, and separators—as valid factors for naming these sections, specifically for this particular film, in my opinion. This is because, in my own perspective, I have found a simultaneously hidden and simultaneously unhidden harmony between them. And I have managed to accept, within my cinematic world, a language of connection between them that is both “assumed” and unambiguous.

Thematic and Chronological
Section (1) – Sequences related to the murder: Minute 1 to 5 (5 minutes)
Section (2) – Sequences related to Michel’s lack of money, his plan to scrounge up money, and escape with Patricia: Minute 5 to 20 (15 minutes)
Section (3) – The more prominent sequences of Patricia’s presence in the film; her second meeting with Michel and her first meeting with the journalist man: Minute 20 to 25 (5 minutes)
Section (4) – Patricia’s house (the only long interior scene of the film) and the conversations between Michel and Patricia: Minute 25 to 50 (25 minutes)
Section (5) – A tour of the city, dates, the police, and increasing troubles: Minute 50 to 70 (20 minutes)
Section (6) – Night sequences, danger lurking for Michel, and Patricia’s growing distrust of the situation: Minute 70 to 78 (8 minutes)
Section (7) – Patricia’s betrayal and Michel’s death: Minute 78 to 88 (10 minutes)
This segmentation might seem a bit illogical at this point in the writing (though we must keep in mind that we’re not dealing with a completely logical film!). But don’t rush to conclusions. I think the beginnings of these sections each mark an important template in the film’s notebook, and each one clearly grows parts of the identity of the previous or subsequent sections, shaped by their distinct atmospheres. Some sections could have been combined, but… I didn’t necessarily favor every combination and distinction; for example, I didn’t merge Section (3) with Section (2) because the nature of the dialogue between Michel and Patricia changes in their second meeting. Section (3), within the same – in the previous – spaces of Sections (1) and (2), slowly but clearly pulls them into the background and emphasizes Patricia’s character more (while in Section (2), Michel’s character is more prominent). Similarly, separating Section (5) from Section (6) is caused by one thing being the change in time in the film (from day to night), and the other being that in Section (6), the issues from Sections (1) and (2) return to the text in a more serious way (though not with the carefree tone of Section (5), of course).

Mood and Tone (Temporally Synced with the Thematic and Chronological Section)
Section (1) – Most shots in the car / The first gunshot of the film and its clear impact on the film’s mood shift
Section (2) – Michel’s meeting with three people
Section (3) – Patricia’s meeting with two people
Section (4) – Michel and Patricia’s private space in Patricia’s house
Section (5) – Day: Street wandering after the lovemaking / The presence of bothersome strangers
Section (6) – Night: Street wandering after small escapes / Searching for a solution
Section (7) – Night to the next day: Omission of the lovemaking scene on the final night of the film – unlike its depiction in Section (4) – which, if it had a romantic feel, should have become the most important scene of the entire film at this point / Betrayal and the second gunshot of the film: The end

Separators (The Moment One Section Ends and a New Section Begins)
(1) to (2): The film’s first Dip to Black (the image slowly fading to black) / The first play of the film’s main music
(2) to (3): The film’s first and long Iris Round (a circle that expands or contracts, and the image is engulfed in darkness) / Location: Outside the cinema (just before this scene, we realize that the police have completely lost Michel’s trail)
(3) to (4): Patricia and the journalist’s kiss, the end of the city shots (with emphasis on the Champs-Élysées and the Eiffel Tower) / Entering the hotel
(4) to (5): The kiss in the room / The beginning of the city shots (with emphasis on the Tuileries Garden and Orly Airport)
(5) to (6): The kiss in the cinema / Entering the city (night)
(6) to (7): The film’s final Dip to Black / Patricia leaving the house and entering the city

In the Separators, some repetitions at the turning points of these acts catch our attention: the repetition of urban spaces, cinema, kissing, and classic tricks of scene transitions.
Now, with this seven-act division, ‘Breathless’ can first be seen as a seven-act film with a completely asymmetrical structure in terms of viewing time (5, 15, 5, 25, 20, 8, 10). But… I admit that watching it this way is not particularly interesting! So let’s approach the acts differently in terms of time—derived from these previous seven acts.
Let’s assume that sections (1) and (2) form the first act in this broken-down structure: the major issues concerning the murder and the escape: a total of 20 minutes.
Then, sections (3) and (4) form the second act: the major personal/emotional relationship between Michel and Patricia: a total of 30 minutes.
And finally, sections (5), (6), and (7) form the third act: the outside world, escalating problems, the unresolved issues of acts one and two, and ultimately, Patricia’s betrayal and Michel’s death: a total of 40 minutes.
In this perspective, the moods and separators can be seen as follows: the first act of the film revolves around Michel, the second act revolves around Patricia, and the third act tells the story of the consequences of Patricia’s decision (and eventually her final decision). The separators would be the police losing Michel’s trail between the first and second acts (which, with the assumption of the shift of focus from Michel to Patricia, can be seen as a valid separator), and the kiss between Michel and Patricia as the separator between the second and third acts (which, with the assumption of the content of the third act in this new theory, seems like a valid sequence to me).
In this three-act perspective (still acknowledging that it’s not entirely a logical three-act structure, and of course, keeping in mind that the film itself is not a logical film!), it’s clear that each act does not have the formal unity that the first seven acts had in their details. But… it’s not a bad division! It has turned into a more proportionate time-based structure, and its separators have established a more intelligent connection with the overall story. The interesting point is that in this structure—which, the more I think about it, seems more significant—the time breakdown is 20 minutes (first act), 30 minutes (second act), and finally 40 minutes (third act)! Do you see? With this perspective, ‘Breathless’ becomes a thriller centered on murder, love, and betrayal, which, unlike most thrillers in cinematic history (up until then), instead of speeding up as time progresses, it slows down! And rather than reducing the initial expansion of itself and the knots in the audience’s mind and increasing their quality by reducing them, it increases them and diminishes their impact by extending each act and its events (which is why Patricia’s betrayal is not shocking to us, and if we want to challenge our minds, we should ask ourselves: why are we not shocked, mind? Had you seen any history of betrayal from Patricia?). In fact, it can be said that Godard is reversing the rhythm of the film; with what motive? I might have guesses in my mind, but I’m not certain why he’s doing this. Was it conscious or unconscious? I don’t know. However… I think there’s more to discuss about it and valuable lessons to be learned from it.
This writer, frankly speaking, unlike many critics, does not view Godard’s work as a kind of battle or resistance against the mood and rhythm of American cinema, nor as a film aimed at pushing back against or rejecting the desires of an Americanized audience (especially since we see in Godard’s cinematic writings from that era that he is both a fan of American cinema and its audience).
This writer also does not see ‘Breathless’ as an innovative or groundbreaking film designed to circumvent the norms and requirements of the “senile elders” or the “mythical idols” of cinema (two phrases Godard himself referenced in his interview with Télérama in the spring of 1978) or as an attempt to antagonize the demanding viewer of its time — which is a common perception, but in my view, the film, during its creation, regarded itself as smaller and more personal than such grandiose claims.
For me, ‘Breathless’ is a cleverly crafted film, aimed precisely at collecting and selecting the ideas of its cinematic predecessors and finding the compelling commonalities of a large collective. (We can see the seeds of such ideas more clearly in Godard’s later writings and interviews; he has never been in the camp of those who advocate “no to cinema’s history.”)
‘Breathless’ is a black-and-white crime-romance. And what were black-and-white crime-romances called in those years, and even before? Or at least, which patterns could they align with? The answer is clear: Film noir.
Interestingly, the recurring elements and similarities between Jean-Luc Godard’s ‘Breathless’ and classic film noirs are not few, and the film’s connection to this renowned and popular genre goes far beyond simply showing a poster of Bogart, having Michel strike Bogart-like poses, or making similar references. Godard’s work fully employs elements of film noir and, at times, even reveals its meaning and beauty through our awareness of this connection.
With a bit more boldness, one might even interpret ‘Breathless’ as a neo-noir — an interpretation, however, that does not align with this writer’s perspective (and I will explain why).

The first image of Michel in ‘Breathless’, mimicking a pose of Humphrey Bogart.

What do we find in film noir? Most prominently, the vulnerable, often victimized man who stands opposite an alluring and provocative urban woman. Furthermore, as the story in a film noir unfolds, the layers of the film—often unknown to the viewer—reveal themselves, shifting simple moral confrontations toward greater complexity, coincidences, ambiguity, and, ultimately, the death of a major character or the destruction of something we had hoped would remain intact. And, well, both outcomes… don’t seem entirely dissimilar to the fates of Michel and Patricia, do they?
What else do I observe in film noir? The genre’s rise to prominence, supplanting the gangster films that preceded it, was driven by a significant shift: there was no longer a need for gangsters to embody extreme violence, with guns constantly ready to mow down crowds. Simply put, film noir was “kinder” than its gangster predecessors. Villains in film noir didn’t have to match the ruthless professionalism of earlier gangster films. With some leniency, we might say that many of the villains—or protagonists who did wrong—in film noir were small-time criminals. These characters often committed crimes or made mistakes due to an accident, a momentary lapse in judgment, a worthless temptation, minor external pressure, or fleeting greed or lust. Once again, this aligns with what transpires in Godard’s film, doesn’t it?
And finally, there’s the black-and-white aesthetic, the use of shadows, and so on, which, well… there’s no argument there.
These connections are undeniable; that much is true. However, it’s also worth noting that if a filmmaker merely takes a few elements from a specific genre and incorporates them into their film, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve contributed to that genre or can claim to be part of the team! By the same logic, the author certainly does not intend to argue that Godard’s ‘Breathless’ is a film noir! Rather, what I have in mind is that I believe the connection between Godard’s work and film noir is older and of a different nature—something I’ll elaborate on further.
Let’s go back in time: Film noirs—there’s no need to prove this—were heavily influenced by two cinematic traditions: one known as Expressionism and the other as Réalisme poétique. I’ll set aside the first. The second was a movement in France that emerged in the mid-1920s and lasted roughly until the mid-1940s, producing films with a similar mood, often using recurring actors and motifs—all within the French film industry.
Let me highlight a few cinematic elements characteristic of works associated with réalisme poétique: the events in these films typically unfolded in urban settings—streets, shops, harbors, and hotels. Characters were drawn from ordinary people, to the extent that the antihero of the film could be a laborer, a thief, or a prostitute… and the supporting characters followed a similar pattern. (In fact, based on my visual knowledge, I believe the first antiheroes in cinema history emerged from films associated with réalisme poétique.) These films, in essence, were not about exceptional characters—whether in terms of wealth, education, or abilities. Some of the dialogue in these films was spoken by passersby, sometimes real people, and major plot events—turning points in the narrative—were often driven by these same people, usually by coincidence.
Do you see the similarities between this movement and Godard’s ‘Breathless’?
Film noirs were a concoction of three essential ingredients: a blend of the atmospheric elements of réalisme poétique, the expressive world of German Expressionism, and those shadowy intersections often (though not always) identifiable in the works of filmmakers from the Alpine regions. Finally, a dash of Hollywood screenwriting was added to the mix, resulting in what we know as film noir. Interestingly, in the cinema of réalisme poétique, there was another element, simultaneously distinct and vague—or perhaps it didn’t exist at all, merely casting a shadow over the films. This element, while not utilized in film noirs due to their industrial nature, was not overlooked by Godard.
Before delving into this element or perhaps mood (I confess I’m unsure of the most appropriate term here), I’d like to digress and mention another film considered a masterpiece of réalisme poétique: a film that, to my surprise, shares unexpected narrative similarities with Godard’s ‘Breathless’—a discovery that, quite unexpectedly, I made myself.
‘Port of Shadowsbre by the brilliant Marcel Carné. The film runs for 90 minutes (roughly the same length as Godard’s work). Jean Gabin plays Jean, a fugitive (much like Michel in ‘Breathless’), who arrives at the beginning of the film from nowhere and gets into a fight with a driver on the way, pulling a gun on him just like Michel does (though, unlike Michel, Jean doesn’t shoot. After all, we accept that Michel is “more Breathless”). Both men (Jean and Michel) have an unclear past. In both films, the elements of fate and coincidence play a fundamental role in the narrative. In both films, the female lead enters the story with a delay, and the anti-hero male is drawn to her. In ‘Port of Shadows’, after a while, the man decides to leave the woman and the city, while in ‘Breathless’, it is the woman who, after some time, decides to leave the man, and the man had earlier suggested they leave the city. The male character dies in both films, in both by a gunshot, in both in the street, in both while the woman is by his side, and in both films, the woman’s character is directly tied to the death of the main character: in ‘Breathless’, the woman betrays the man, and in ‘Port of Shadows’, the man leaves the ship because of the woman, goes to her, and then is shot. In both films, the union of the woman and the man occurs almost at the final moments, just before the climax of the story—the death. And, as previously mentioned, in both films, the characters are ordinary people from the streets (marginalized, abandoned social class—sometimes more bitterly: cursed). Finally, a significant portion of both films takes place in an urban setting.
But what was the purpose of mentioning these points? I accept that, despite the bizarre similarities between the two films, Jean-Luc Godard may not have thought about ‘Port of Shadows’ while making ‘Breathless’, nor did these thoughts likely occur to him after the film’s creation. Moreover, according to testimonies from many of Godard’s collaborators, Godard didn’t bring a screenplay with him while shooting, and many parts of the story were spontaneously added on set. So, we’ll set aside these interesting similarities. However, in the cinema of French réalisme poétique, there was something else as well—that mood which, in my opinion, Hollywood noir filmmakers couldn’t grasp. By referencing ‘Port of Shadows’, I decided to explain my point through the context of this film, so that my explanation could be better understood—otherwise, there would be no reason for me to “just mention” these similarities. That root, which ultimately resulted in the slowing down of time in a thriller, which I believe wasn’t done to be special or different, but relates to the filmmaker’s life experience (If the issue of time within the form is handled correctly, it would be difficult to say that a novice filmmaker has accidentally stumbled upon a good composition). That very experience that Godard had gained from his country’s cinema and réalisme poétique: killing time.
What the filmmaker has seen, liked, has seeped into his mind, and later implemented something similar. Godard, by reversing the rhythm, peeking into the corners of Paris, the multitude of secondary events, the faint characters, pushing issues backwards and leaving them unresolved, what is he aiming for other than killing time? Pay attention to the long sequence in Patricia’s apartment—section (4) in the first division—that completely alters the film’s rhythm and also changes the motivations of Michel and Patricia.
In Carné’s work (as a sample of that movement), with long dialogues, giving space to the thoughts and concerns of ordinary people (who are very few in the film’s presence), wandering the streets, and long sitting on chairs—without dialogue—and saying unnecessary or even pointless things. The scattering that severely slows down the film’s rhythm, and what kind of film is it? A black-and-white crime romance, which doesn’t favor slowness.
For me, this discovery was very interesting: Godard’s creation with this view is not a neo-noir, but a neo- réalisme poétique! And more than categorizing Godard’s creative ideas into a different display or presenting theses like discarding all logic and creating something out of nothing, it actually acknowledges the understanding and discovery of his methods and approaches, and the sources of his creativity in a history where “there is nothing”.