Jean-Luc Godard. His studio in Rolle now resembles a museum. Close-ups alternate with wide shots, voyeuristically devouring every object in the room: a pair of scissors, Bresson’s book on cinema and politics, the last cigarette stubbed out in a glass ashtray. Everything seems imbued with meaning once you’ve seen at least one of Godard’s films, yet it is the sense of presence th...