Nouvelle Vague, directed by Richard Linklater and written by Holly Gent and Vincent Palmo Jr., arrives as a masterful tribute to one of cinema's most transformative moments. Released in select theaters on October 31, 2025, before streaming on Netflix on November 14, this biographical drama from ARP Sélection and Detour Filmproduction transports viewers to Paris in 1959 to witness the chaotic, inspired creation of Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless. Running 106 minutes, the film features Guillaume Marbeck as the iconoclastic Godard, Zoey Deutch as Jean Seberg, and Aubry Dullin as Jean-Paul Belmondo, alongside a stellar ensemble including Bruno Dreyfürst, Matthieu Penchinat, and brief appearances by cinematic legends portrayed with uncanny precision.
This isn't merely a making-of documentary dramatized for the screen. Linklater has crafted something far more ambitious: a time machine that drops us into the revolutionary fervor of the French New Wave, capturing both the creative chaos and the youthful audacity that redefined what cinema could be. For Linklater, whose own debut Slacker revolutionized independent filmmaking in 1990, this project represents a deeply personal exploration of artistic rebellion and the transformative power of breaking rules. The film matters not just as historical recreation but as a rallying cry for future filmmakers to embrace spontaneity, risk, and the courage to reinvent their medium.
Story and Screenplay: Structured Rebellion That Captures Creative Anarchy
The screenplay navigates a fascinating paradox: how do you tell a linear, coherent story about a filmmaker who rejected linearity and coherence? Gent and Palmo solve this by structuring the narrative chronologically around the twenty-day shoot of Breathless while infusing it with the spontaneous energy that defined Godard's approach. We follow the 29-year-old critic-turned-director as he scrambles to make his first feature, feeling left behind as colleagues like François Truffaut and Claude Chabrol have already established themselves.
The script wisely focuses on process over psychology. Rather than diving deep into Godard's interior life or childhood traumas, it shows us the work itself: the negotiations with producer Georges de Beauregard, the recruitment of Belmondo and Seberg, the guerrilla tactics employed to shoot on Paris streets without permits. This becomes surprisingly gripping because the writers understand that for these artists, the work was the life. Their personal dramas played out through creative decisions, not bedroom confessions.
What elevates the screenplay beyond standard biopic territory is its playful awareness of its own contradictions. Godard scribbles dialogue each morning at cafés, abandons shoots when inspiration runs dry, and treats continuity as an enemy of reality. The script captures this improvisatory madness while maintaining narrative momentum, a delicate balance that mirrors Godard's own achievement with Breathless. The dialogue crackles with aphorisms and pronouncements about cinema, yet never feels like a film school lecture because these declarations emerge naturally from the passionate debates and creative problem-solving happening on set.
The pacing moves with confident energy through the first act's setup before settling into the rhythm of the shoot itself. Some viewers seeking traditional dramatic arcs might find the middle section episodic, but this structure authentically reflects the day-by-day uncertainty of guerrilla filmmaking. The screenplay also makes smart choices about which historical figures to spotlight, understanding that showing the entire Parisian cinema scene enriches our sense of being present at a cultural watershed moment.
Acting and Characters: Uncanny Embodiments of Cinema History
Guillaume Marbeck delivers a revelation as Jean-Luc Godard. The physical resemblance is striking, enhanced by those omnipresent dark sunglasses that became part of Godard's mystique. But Marbeck goes beyond mimicry to capture the contradictions of this complex artist: charming yet caustic, brilliant yet insufferable, visionary yet maddeningly vague. He shows us a young man desperate to prove himself while projecting supreme confidence, someone who needs to be the smartest person in every room yet genuinely collaborates with his team. Watch how Marbeck modulates Godard's voice, that distinctive nasal quality with its reedy tremor, or how he uses silence and stillness behind those sunglasses to suggest thoughts he's too hip to share.
Zoey Deutch transforms completely as Jean Seberg. She captures not just the pixie-cut gamine quality that made Seberg iconic, but the specific cadence of her Iowa-accented French, musical and hesitant and strangely precise. Deutch makes Seberg the audience's surrogate, experiencing the same confusion and frustration we might feel thrown into Godard's chaotic process. Her performance shows the actress's journey from skepticism to grudging engagement, and the scenes where she challenges Godard crackle with intelligence and wit. This feels like a fully realized human being, not a cinematic icon in waiting.
Aubry Dullin brings unexpected warmth and physicality to Jean-Paul Belmondo. He captures the boxer-turned-actor's natural ebullience, his twisted-lip charm, and his seemingly instinctive understanding of what Godard was attempting. The jump-rope scene where he and Godard discuss the role demonstrates the easy rapport that would translate to screen magic. Dullin also nails the famous death scene, that jagged ballet down the Paris street that becomes both tragic and absurdly comic.
The supporting ensemble enriches every frame. Matthieu Penchinat as cinematographer Raoul Coutard projects gentle patience as he literally contorts himself into impossible positions for shots, stuffing himself into postal carts or mounting cameras on moving vehicles. Bruno Dreyfürst makes producer Georges de Beauregard's mounting exasperation both funny and sympathetic. Even in brief appearances, performers like Roxane Rivière as Agnès Varda or Laurent Mothe as Roberto Rossellini (pocketing sandwiches from the Cahiers office) create indelible impressions. Linklater's decision to introduce each character with on-screen text helps us navigate this populous world while making everyone feel essential rather than decorative.
Direction and Technical Aspects: A Meticulous Recreation That Feels Alive
Linklater's direction represents a high-wire act of technical precision deployed to create spontaneous energy. Working in black and white for the first time, shooting in French with subtitles, he could have produced something that felt academic or reverential. Instead, he captures the immediacy and vitality of Godard's Paris, making 1959 feel present-tense rather than nostalgically distant.
David Chambille's cinematography deserves special recognition for achieving what seems impossible: using largely digital tools to create images that feel authentically period. The high-contrast black and white photography mirrors Breathless while maintaining its own character. The lustrous, pearly depth of these images, shot in the old Academy ratio, combined with extensive visual effects work to recreate mid-century Paris, represents a massive technical undertaking that never announces itself. Streets filled with period vehicles, meticulously researched locations, the specific quality of natural light Godard insisted upon, all contribute to the uncanny sensation of actually being there.
Linklater's approach to filming the filming proves ingenious. He shows us both what Godard's camera captured and what surrounded that frame: the minimal crew, the curious pedestrians, the improvised solutions to technical challenges. When Coutard squeezes into that postal cart, we see both the ingenuity and the absurdity. The production design by Katia Wyszkop fills every detail with authenticity, from Seberg's minute cardigans and jaunty silk scarves to Godard's rumpled jackets and scuffed loafers. These aren't costumes but lived-in clothes that help the actors inhabit their roles completely.
The editing maintains propulsive momentum while allowing scenes to breathe. Linklater introduces characters with direct-to-camera title cards reminiscent of silent cinema, a choice that honors the past while keeping the present flowing smoothly. The rhythm mirrors the shoot itself: bursts of creative activity followed by contemplative pauses, always moving forward but never rushed.
Music and Atmosphere: Jazz, Smoke, and Revolutionary Fervor
The soundtrack creates its own time machine, filled with period jazz that ranges from silky to skittish. You'll hear Zoot Sims' version of "My Old Flame" and other gems that capture the bebop energy Godard channeled into Breathless. The music never overwhelms but constantly enriches, providing an aural texture that makes 1959 Paris feel vibrant and alive. Like Martial Solal's iconic score for Breathless itself, the music here vibrates with the same improvisatory spirit.
The overall atmosphere Linklater creates feels thick with cigarette smoke, intellectual debate, and revolutionary possibility. This is a world where everyone in the cafés and offices seems to be arguing about cinema, where running into Roberto Rossellini or Robert Bresson in the subway feels simultaneously momentous and casual. The sound design captures the ambient noise of Paris streets, the clatter of the Cahiers office, the intimate acoustics of small hotel rooms commandeered as sets.
What emerges is a portrait of a cultural moment when movies felt like they mattered more than anything else. Linklater captures the giddy sensation of being young, brilliant, and convinced you're about to change the world. The atmosphere isn't nostalgic so much as urgently present, reminding contemporary viewers that such moments of creative revolution remain possible, that the tools to make cinema have never been more accessible, and that the spirit of bold experimentation never goes out of style.
Trailer Nouvelle Vague (2025)
Strengths and Weaknesses
What Works:
- Guillaume Marbeck's uncanny, fully inhabited performance as Godard
- Zoey Deutch's transformative work capturing Seberg's essence and vocal patterns
- Exquisite black and white cinematography that honors Breathless while standing alone
- Meticulous period recreation that never feels like museum display
- Smart screenplay structure that embraces episodic rhythm authentically
- Stellar ensemble work with no weak performances
- Linklater's ability to make filmmaking process genuinely exciting
- Historical detail that enriches rather than overwhelms
- Genuine inspiration and encouragement for future filmmakers
- Perfect tonal balance between reverence and playfulness
What Doesn't Work:
- Some viewers may find the episodic middle section lacking traditional dramatic build
- The sheer number of characters introduced might overwhelm those unfamiliar with the era
- Occasional tendency toward hagiography slightly smooths Godard's rougher edges
- Those seeking deep psychological exploration of characters may feel shortchanged
- The film's appeal skews heavily toward cinema enthusiasts
- Netflix streaming may not fully capture the big-screen experience Linklater designed
Final Verdict: Essential Viewing for Anyone Who Loves Cinema
Rating: 4.5/5 stars
Nouvelle Vague stands as Richard Linklater's most exquisite achievement since Boyhood, a film that demonstrates why he remains one of American cinema's most vital voices. The consensus rating of 4.5 out of 5 stars reflects near-universal acclaim tempered only by acknowledgment that this is unabashedly a film for people who care deeply about movies. That qualifier matters less than it might seem, because Linklater has made this inside-baseball subject accessible, entertaining, and genuinely moving.
Cinema enthusiasts will find themselves in heaven watching this meticulous recreation of a pivotal moment in film history. Those familiar with Breathless will experience the particular joy of seeing beloved images and scenes from new angles, understanding their creation in ways that deepen appreciation for the original. Film students and aspiring filmmakers will find a masterclass in guerrilla production and creative problem-solving, a manual for how to make something revolutionary with limited resources and unlimited audacity. Even casual viewers with only passing knowledge of Godard will likely find themselves swept up in the energy and charm of watching passionate young artists willing to risk everything for their vision.
Those who prefer their biopics psychologically deep, who want traditional dramatic structure with clear three-act progression, or who simply don't care much about the nuts and bolts of filmmaking may find Nouvelle Vague too specialized for their tastes. The film makes no apologies for being what it is: a love letter to a specific moment in cinema history, crafted by a director who understands that moment's continuing relevance to contemporary independent film.
What makes Nouvelle Vague ultimately transcendent is how it functions on multiple levels simultaneously. It's historical recreation, but it's also Linklater examining his own creative DNA, understanding where his rebellious spirit came from. It's a portrait of Godard, but also a meditation on what it means to make art at any moment when the old rules feel stale and new possibilities beckon. It's a film about 1959 that speaks directly to 2025, reminding us that every generation needs its revolutionaries, its rule-breakers, its young artists convinced they can do it better.
Linklater suggests this film is for young people, and he's right. Not young in years necessarily, but young in spirit, anyone who still believes cinema can surprise and transform, who thinks the best films might not have been made yet, who feels that urgent creative itch to pick up a camera and show the world something they've never seen. If you've ever felt that impulse, even fleetingly, Nouvelle Vague will speak to you. And if you simply love movies, genuinely love them, this enchanting portrait of artists at work will remind you why that love matters. Highly recommended.
 Movie Review: Richard Linklater Crafts an Enchanting Portrait of Cinema's Revolutionary Spirit){kind=link}
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