Its content is noteworthy too, of course: it's an explicitly conversational film exploring sexual politics in 1950s France, and it's a blend of pop art and high art, a clash of cultures, with references to Bogart one minute and then Chopin the next.

It's all made fashionable and timeless, of course, because of the said jump-cuts. (Jump-cut: a jump in otherwise simultaneous action. ie. not from scene to scene, but within the same scene; an interruption in the narrative discourse.) There's actually little to none philosophy behind them, actually, but I find a great deal of philosophy in them. Which means, that Godard had to cut the movie by some distance in order for the producers to distribute it, and, since he saw every scene as an essential one, he eventually overcame the problem by taking to the print with a pair of scissors, cutting at, as he says, "random places" (which I might not believe so much). But I like the jump-cuts; they have a youthful feel about them, they help maintain energy; they heighten a lot of the gags (like when Belmondo gets out of the taxi to lift up a woman's skirt); and they always remind me that I'm watching a film, a work of manipulation, as well as a manipulative work - I'm always a fan of that kind of stuff. As for the philosophy inside them, which I extract or interpret - or "put in" myself - they go alongside the film's existential thread, about "living in the moment". Great film by one of my favourite filmmakers.