Jean-Luc Godard can amaze and infuriate. It all depends on how you interact with his style. Many of his films are more like artistic riddles than stories with which you can get swept away. If you don’t want to bring your decoder to your movies, then Week-End especially will have you eating your hands to stave off the boredom.

However, for those with the patience and some interest in politics, economy and society, Godard’s satirical tract against western civilisation is fascinating and sometimes hilarious.

The bare bones plot is a mere device for executing the satire. A bourgeois couple are plotting to murder each other, and go on a weekend road trip to find society itself collapsing around them.

After the initial set-up, the wife Corinne monologues about a dream (?) she had of herself engaging in a preposterous orgy complete with eggs and cats milk. Not the first time a Godard movie has begun with a long single-shot of a scantily clad woman talking about her body. I didn’t see the purpose of it in Le Mepris either.

When they finally get underway they sidle through a long traffic jam caused by a horrific, bloody car accident. They seem nonchalant about this. They are equally indifferent to another accident involving a tractor.

In the aftermath, the female passenger of the sleek red Triumph sees the crash as evidence that the farmer class are inherently inferior and morally inept, whilst the farmer thinks it was just punishment for her exploitation. They defer to Roland and Corinne’s opinion, but they are having none of it – they just drive off. Yelling out at them, the farmer and the woman embrace, suggesting that in certain circumstances, all classes can unite in mutual hatred of the bourgeoisie.

It’s moments like these that bring life to what could have been an insufferable visual essay.

Godard is a socialist, but the way everything is framed, you can receive it in any way you like. The couple appear bored out of their minds as they are forced to endure a turgid Marxist diatribe. You can take this as evidence in favour of ideology theory, that the monied classes are incapable of receiving the message, or simply identify with them.

The film falls down in the second half as, unable to return home, the couple fall into a cannibal cult. You switch off as poetry and Bible verse is read out without any conceivable context. At some point you lose your enthusiasm for deciphering.

One thing that doesn’t work is that you are never sure if Godard actually believes the things that these social outcasts are spouting, or whether he just likes the idea of the yuppies being forced into that environment.

It’s not really worth getting angry about. There are enough pleasures to gain from it on a very basic level that at worst you can smile as you would to an angry anarcho-communist’s Facebook ranting. And besides, this is at least fun; far worse is to make an anti-civilisation film that tries to tug on your heart strings.

In conclusion, a pro-civilisation viewer can appreciate Week-End as a view among many, well presented, with some delightful cinematic moments, but not to be taken seriously.