Full disclosure: I am not a French New Wave guy. I appreciate what the movement inspired — the rule-breaking, the youthful energy, the generations of filmmakers who found permission in its audacity — but the films themselves have never quite clicked for me. There’s a snobbery that sometimes accompanies them, a “thanks, but not for me” attitude from devotees that has kept me at arm’s length. So when I sat down for Richard Linklater‘s Nouvelle Vague at TIFF, I was fully prepared to admire it from a distance. Instead, I fell completely under its spell.

Linklater, working in French for the first time and shooting in gorgeous black and white in the Academy ratio, chronicles the chaotic 23-day production of Jean-Luc Godard‘s Breathless in 1959 Paris. Guillaume Marbeck plays Godard as a bundle of neurotic energy — rewriting the script daily, baffling his cast and crew with his emphasis on spontaneity, shooting single scenes on days when other directors would knock out a dozen setups. It’s a wired performance, but not the exhausting kind where a talented person demands constant validation. This Godard knows what he’s capable of; he just needs to get out of his own way long enough to execute his vision.

Zoey Deutch (who earned an Independent Spirit Award nomination for the role) plays Jean Seberg, the American actress cast as Patricia opposite Jean-Paul Belmondo‘s charming criminal. Deutch (The Threesome) continues her ascent from nepo-starlet origins — her mother is Lea Thompson — into a confident screen presence who can command a scene with minimal dialogue. She’s got terrific chemistry with Aubry Dullin as Belmondo, and together with Marbeck, the three form a magnetic trio of famous faces at a pivotal moment in cinema history.

Other historical figures from this era drift through their orbit as Breathless takes shape: François Truffaut offering advice, Claude Chabrol hovering nearby, and in a delightful cameo, Agnès Varda herself. One can only hope this signals the beginning of a Varda-verse — I’d watch a whole series about these artists bouncing off each other in smoky cafés and cramped rooftop parties.

Linklater (Everybody Wants Some!) has always been gifted at finding the personality in his subjects, whether they’re slackers wandering Austin or lovers strolling through Vienna. Here, he makes icons feel accessible, relatable, even familiar. You don’t need to have seen Breathless to enjoy this — though it certainly helps — because the film is less about the finished product than the messy, exhilarating process of creation. The arguments over jump cuts, the bewildered producers threatening to shut everything down, the moment when the cast and crew screen the finished film and dismiss it entirely, only for it to become one of the most influential movies ever made. Linklater finds real joy in that irony.

David Chambille‘s cinematography is magnificent, both emulating Godard’s handheld aesthetic during the Breathless recreations and collaborating with Linklater to conjure a Paris that feels inviting and romantic without being romanticized. Production designer Katia Wyszkop fills every frame with period texture — crowded rooms thick with cigarette smoke, cluttered editing bays, cafés where cinema’s future was being debated over cheap wine. Pascaline Chavanne‘s costumes are exquisite, capturing the effortless cool of an era when looking disheveled was its own kind of style.

It’s been several months since I saw Nouvelle Vague, and I still haven’t sought out the French New Wave films it celebrates. My Breathless experience remains waiting for me. But Linklater so lovingly conveyed the atmosphere, attitude, and allure surrounding its creation that when I finally do watch Godard’s landmark debut, I know I’ll be thinking of this film immediately. Maybe the ideal approach is a double feature — Godard followed by Linklater, the revolutionary paired with the tribute. This is a beautiful, intricate, rewarding work. Give it a go.