It’s fitting that a film about the birth of cinematic cool should look this good. Nouvelle Vague is Richard Linklater’s playful, monochrome homage to the making of À Bout de Souffle — a fictionalised film-within-a-film that captures the chaos and charm of creation without losing its composure. Shot in luminous black and white, complete with French credits and cheeky cue marks, it feels like cinema talking to itself, lovingly and a little slyly.
Linklater doesn’t imitate Godard’s jump cuts or his bite, but channels something gentler — closer to Truffaut’s warmth and curiosity. The film isn’t a revolution, it’s a reflection: a portrait of art made by people still half in love with the idea of art itself.
Zoey Deutch brings a poised, quietly radiant Jean Seberg to life, surrounded by a lively cast of newcomers who make the period sing. Many, you sense, will go far. At the Q&A I attended, Linklater revealed he rehearsed in English before filming in French — a clever twist that gives the performances a relaxed rhythm. It’s not Breathless redux, but a graceful echo — a film that loves the process as much as the product.