Godard’s balls are so huge. Thinking economically, he essentially borrows his friend Truffaut’s character Antoine Doinel and sticks him in his own movie. (There’s even a little wink as Paul, as Jean-Pierre Leaud’s character is called here, refers to himself as “General Doinel” when trying to hijack a car from an army outpost.) This is an artist at the top of his game — zipping around Paris, babbling about love, poetry and workers’ rights. Godard’s early films are like sweet chunks of quasi-intellectual candy.