When I first began watching La Jetee, I felt gaps, breaks in my understanding of what was happening in the film. I found it initially difficult to become absorbed in cinema that felt choppy and seemed to halt with every new image. However, as I began to follow the storyline, I found that my mind could fill in the gaps where the images stopped and began again. I was reminded of a brain teaser that human brains can read any words as long as the first and last letter are in order—the letters in between can be completely out of order and the brain will still make sense if it. As I came to the close of this science fiction story, I considered two questions: would I classify this as a film? And did the still images allow me to focus more on the storyline?
In Raymond Bellour’s The Film Stilled, he quotes cinema as “the system which reproduces movement as a function of any-instant-whatever; that is, a function of equidistant instants selected so as to create an impression of continuity.” Agreeing with this definition, I consider La Jetee to also be cinema, not only photography. While the film was only told in still images, I felt movement in them. At the end of La Jetee the pace of the images grows faster, there is strong continuity between the images. The moments before and after the protagonist's death feel seamless. All these signs point to cinema.
The still images in La Jetee allowed my mind to focus more clearly on the storyline. Only having pictures allowed for an objective narrator to speak on behalf of all characters. Whereas in film the cinematography can stand on its own, in La Jetee I felt the story itself could stand alone as an essay. Here I saw the power of an image in this type of cinema; viewers such as myself are drawn in by the images, yet the lack of constant movement allows space for the mind to better absorb the narration.