Jean-Luc Godard is one of the greatest filmmakers of all-time and possibly the most influential filmmaker currently living. The octogenarian is cited by Quentin Tarantino, PT Anderson and many other modern maestros as the godfather of contemporary cinema.

Now that that’s out of the way, Godard’s newest film “Film Socialisme” is almost entirely unbearable. It’s offensive to the eyes, the ears, the attention span and the intellect. To call it a film is a misnomer. It’s a barrage of images and ideas, a soapbox essay delivered from on-high in voice-over by the curmudgeon himself.

The “plot” of “Film Socialisme” if it can be said to have such a silly and trite thing, is organized in 3 movements. Like a symphony, get it? Me neither. It follows multi-cultural people on a cruise ship, artists and youth in revolt, and then a cascade montage of images as Godard preaches.

Recently, Godard famously said that cinema is over. There is nothing more it can accomplish. Fine, but then why are still making movies, sir? Why are you subjecting cinephiles to your drivel?

I do love Godard. Old Godard, that is. Energizing, exciting, passionate Godard. There is no denying that the man harbored in the French New Wave and oversaw the Hollywood Renaissance. Throughout his career, with films like “Breathless,” and “Made in U.S.A.” he has constantly tried to take cinema to its next frontier. But “Film Socialisme” is off the map.

Maybe I’m just in that shallow-minded public that needs to see it. Maybe my twitching and shifting and impatience is what Godard was going for. But when an artist so assaults his audience that no fewer than 10…that’s right, 10 patrons get up and leave, maybe this is too alienating. I imagine Godard would have laughed at their exit. Some other theatregoers did. I was envious, though, of their honesty. The rest of us were just pretending to like it for the next 100 minutes.

This is a divisive and controversial film. There are some lovers out there. I will never understand exactly why, but seek them out and read them as well. The ultimate goal, though of Godard’s film seems to be to create something so entirely incoherent that the audience fills in the gaps and creates their own meaning out of it. The subtitles of the film have holes and gaps, transcribing only incoherent fractions of what was really said. You fill in the gaps. You create your own meaning.

The only problem with this is that when the audience grows impatient, they stop trying. In such a chaotic cacophony of voices, every interpretation does not bear equal weight. Rather, everything starts to become meaningless.

Godard’s film ends with a title card that reads “No Comment.” How sly. How hip. How preciously pretentious. But really, how offensive, in a festival alongside struggling filmmakers who have hope for what the medium allows them to say. “Film Socialisme” then sounds like the ramblings of an old war veteran.

My verdict on this film would be: Donot _____ _____ it. __ is _____ worth _____ time. Save your _______.

But instead, I’ll just say: “No Comment.”