Jean-Luc Godard confounds Cannes 2010

'Prodigal son returns' was the story as Jean-Luc Godard shaped up to revisit the Cannes Film Festival. And as is so often the case with stories already written ahead of the event, things didn't quite run according to plan. The revered director took a leaf from Ridley Scott's book and excused himself on grounds of sickness, though his latest feature, Socialism, did make it to the south of France.

Viewing a new movie from Jean-Luc Godard, the most iconic living French film director, at Cannes is rather akin to strolling past the Cavern in Liverpool and finding Paul, Ringo, and the ghosts of George and John having a big old jam session. Rock 'n' roll is a fairly fruitful field of comparison for Godard, who achieved fame at an early age (early for a film director, anyway), and delivered a string of masterpieces that redefined the medium and remain thrillingly fresh today. Like the Who and the Stones, the French New Waver enjoyed a decade of brilliance at the outset of his career, followed by a far longer period where, in all honesty, no-one would give a flying picket about his films had it not been for the earlier triumphs.

Screening in Un Certain Regard, Socialism is very much Godard in art mode, feeling like it would be more at home playing in a giant room at the Tate Modern than down at a picture-house where the profit margins are all locked up in the popcorn sales. As the title signals, politics is once again on the Big G's mind, and he holds forth on a bevy of what are (to be a tad blunt) stereotypical Left touchstones: Palestine, Algeria, capitalism. All take the slow march through Godard's line of fire, albeit in such obscure ways that even if Binyamin Netanyahu watched the film 10 times in a row he still wouldn't be sure if he should be pissed off or not.

He wouldn't be the only one struggling to decipher Socialism. I will confess to having been baffled by large swathes of the movie. It seemed to roughly divide into three sections, the first of these taking place aboard a cruise ship, where various passengers (including Patti Smith) mill around and sort-of interact. Now, the thing English-speaking viewers will immediately pick up on are the subtitles. Or rather the lack of them, at least in traditional form. Sure, the onscreen figures yak away (referring to them as characters would be somewhat misleading as none of them are handed anything by way of a personality), but the English translation takes the form of just a few words, these reading more like political slogans than any kind of literal interpretation of what has been said. It is both unusual and a little irritating, with the French-speaking members of the audience I was in clearly getting more from certain scenes than we who were struggling with the semi-baked subtitles.

Godard couches the theoretical idyll of the cruise ship in rather hellish terms (I say theoretical as an extended period trapped on a giant floating hotel is just about the worst thing I can think anyway), using an abrasive sound design to evoke a feeling of menace, the waves and wind wildly whipping at the vessel suggesting both an anger and amorality. Socialism was shot on digital cameras and the footage looks very crisp and clean as a result, aside from some fuzzily indistinct inserts, mainly of the ship's pumping discotheque.

Just as you're getting into the pretentious mood of the piece, musing on whether the boat might be a metaphor for a bloated, western European society, it is time for section two, set on dry land, primarily around a petrol station. Ooh, is that a comment on capitalist countries' subservience to the oil industry? No time to ponder that though (I lie, there's plenty. Throughout the film my mind was wandering like Lionel Messi playing in a free role), as a llama has just shown up at the filling station. A French news crew are passing through too, while some reference is made to a socialist revolution – possibly the second most heavily-trailed non-event of all time, after the second coming of Jesus, but just ahead of those three further Star Wars sequels set after Return of the Jedi.

Performers and locations give way to a relatively brief final segment, a montage constituted primarily of old movie footage, TV news clips and photographs. The screen fades to black. The audience collectively hold their breath. Can they now leave and go and watch something that they have at least half a chance of comprehending? Yes, they can. With Socialism lacking any end credits, the lights simply go up and we are free to leave. But are we free? Or are we trapped in an imperialist-capitalist nightmare, the continuing existence of which being something we are all complicit in? I dunno.

What I do know though, is that with Jean-Luc absent with illness at least no-one has to lie to the dude's face and say how much they loved his movie. Small mercies, eh?

Any UK users curious to see what happened when Godard collaborated with the Rolling Stones can check out Sympathy for the Devil, available to watch for free on Indie Movies Online.