ABSTRACT
The works highlighted in this study share a number of specificities that might tempt analysts to group their respective directors into a single fictional family – indeed, innumerable works and treatises have already linked the names of Renoir, Rivette, Rouch, Rozier, Pialat, Cassavetes, Ameur-Zaïmeche and Faucon. It would be difficult, however, to interpret this as a trend spanning the history of the cinema, except in its questioning of the dominance of traditional scriptwriting. The refusal to overemphasise the value of the written word may take a variety of forms, but it is always an expression of the desire to turn the shoot into a moment of experimentation. Filmmakers may consequently be divided into two camps: those who defend preliminary structure and the immutability of the written word versus those who are determined to view the shoot as a performance. This approach brings two stages in the cinematic process to the fore: on the one hand, the writing (the screenplay, shooting script and sometimes the storyboard) with its controlled, rational dimension; and, on the other, the shoot, which is seen as a forum for improvisation. The analogy with music is revelatory here: the desire of the art music composer 1 to work through writing and the layout of preordained signs finds its counterpoint in the approach of the jazz composer, to whom writing is merely a starting point, a framework that will enable the performers to express themselves freely and together. It would be risky, however, to claim an incontrovertible duality between determination and indetermination – in the cinema, as in music, reality is less cut and dried. The proportion and nature of the written word can vary tremendously and even in the most faithful renditions of preparatory composition, the performance retains an inevitably random dimension. Despite the aspirations of Adorno, it is impossible to ‘protect’ an art of performance from the unpredictable vicissitudes of the human body, unless it is put in the hands of a robot… which extinguishes its life. In the cinema, filmmakers who pride themselves on their power and expertise know that something has to elude them if they want to produce the gesture, look or intonation that will lend the images their most profound meaning. The preparatory work then gives way to the mise-en-scène, which focuses on bringing about this creative surge as the ultimate achievement. With improvisation, however, the creative surge is not viewed as a culmination, but as a launch pad, the implementation of another type of creation in which invention in the moment acts as the driving force.
