There is no such thing as love, only its proofs.At the end of Children of Paradise, we saw Baptiste, the mime who established his fame performing as the famous character of Pierrot on stage, as he pursued his beloved Garance down the Boulevard of Crime. Though Garance only had a few steps on him to begin with, Baptiste's efforts were ironically thwarted by a tumultuous throng of Pierrot-lookalikes who crowded the Boulevard during a raucous carnival celebration. The last sight we see of Baptiste is of him helplessly flailing as the crowds engulfs him in its mass. Just moments earlier, Baptiste had spoken the words "love is simple" to Garance, quoting words she'd spoken to him years earlier when they first met and she first felt the full force of his sudden, idealistic infatuation with her. But in the interval between him speaking those words and Garance's hasty departure, Baptiste's wife Nathalie and their son had intruded on the scene, causing Garance to depart. Baptiste, completely love-struck and out of his right mind, pushed his wife aside, never took notice of his son, and continued his futile pursuit as Garance stepped into her coach and rode off, wisely understanding that she and Baptiste would not, could not, share the future that he still envisioned and yearned for.
Between watching that epic about the follies and frustrations of love, and the minor, but incisive, treatment of the same subject found in Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne, about a man similarly seized by overwhelming attraction for a woman more ideal than real in his imagination, I also had the opportunity to ponder the predicament of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, whose Father's Day Weekend "hike down the Appalachian Trail" turned into five days of "crying" (and go figure what else) with a woman-other-than-his-wife in Argentina, until he unexpectedly returned under the harsh glare of the American public and our 24/7 perpetual news/gossip cycle. Setting aside my ideological differences with Sanford and the abundant opportunity for political Schadenfreude that his plight presents, the primary emotion I feel for him as a person is genuine sadness. I can relate to the pain experienced on all different sides of the issue - his, his wife's, his childrens' and the many people who knew him, or thought they did. He's a guy who probably intended and expected to do the right thing by his wife and family throughout the years of their marriage, but "stuff happened" in his friendship with a woman, and his emotions ran away with him. He obviously made a series (a long series!) of mistakes and ethically-compromised choices along the way, and he'll have to reap the consequences of all that. But it's all turned into quite a contemplative spectacle for this particular middle-aged guy as I reflect on the various ups and downs of my own marriage and family life. I'm in a good place these days but I'd be a fool to assume that keeping even a loving and committed relationship strong is something that can be done on cruise control.
That establishes a bit of the context in which I viewed this film, the Criterion debut of a noted director, Robert Bresson. I've seen a couple of his other films prior to starting this series, and I watched Les Dames last year as well when I rented it from the library. I'm still figuring him out though and won't say much here about whatever it is that makes him so great. :o) For now, I think it's sufficient to just mention that he's an auteur of high reputation, though a bit polarizing from what I gather in that some people really dislike his arrogant attitude that he brought not only to his filmmaking but also his criticism of other masters of cinema. And that his films are pretty slow-paced which in some people's opinion = boring.
Like Children of Paradise, Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne is a French film, set in Paris, though in a modern (presumably wartime) setting, though no mention is made of the war, the German occupation or any other particular historic details. It could be set in the 1930s for all that, except the fashions have more of a 40s look to them. The other, most notable link that the two films share is the actress Maria Casares, who played the domesticated housewife Nathalie in Children of Paradise, a supporting role in which she represented the traditional sanctity of hearth and home. Here she is the female lead, Helene, an independent and worldly woman, unexpectedly scorned, whose vengeful manipulations bring her ex-lover Jean in contact with Agnes, a young beauty whose reputation and chastity were compromised when her mother fell into misfortune (for reasons never clearly specified in the story.)
Helene's ire is provoked one evening when she decides to put Jean to a test, falsely informing him (under the pretext of radical honesty that they pledged to share with each other) that her feelings for him have waned. Expecting him to redouble his efforts to win her affections back, she is instead appalled when he expresses great relief at her announcement, telling her sincerely that his own affections for her have tapered off as well. To him, this is just splendid news as it saves them both the pain and scandal of a messy break-up while still preserving their friendship! Helene maintains her composure, in his sight at least, but as soon as he's gone, she begins plotting her revenge.
One night in a cabaret, she sees Agnes tap-dancing and flitting about in a skimpy outfit and tophat. Helene, clad in black and smoking, defines the perfect "dragon lady" and her icy stare, employed relentlessly throughout the film, magnificently conveys the brilliant but twisted scheming that continually occupies her thoughts.
The scene and a subsequent shot of her wearily slow-dancing with a young gallant in her mother's apartment makes it clear that her physical assets account for the majority portion of their household's cash flow.
With the bait for her trap chosen, Helene conspires to have Jean and Agnes meet, but in such a way as to convince Jean that Agnes is a pure and modest girl. She's aided considerably by the fact that Agnes shows no sign of enjoying the way of life that necessity had thrust her into, and easily concedes to Helene's instruction that she and her mother lay low in the new apartment that Helene's independent wealth provides them. The first encounter between Jean and Agnes takes place in the Bois de Boulogne, a wooded recreational area (featured in Boudu Saved From Drowning) on the west end of Paris, near a waterfall that eventually becomes their rendezvous point. A few other chance occasions deepen Jean's sense of intrigue, perhaps to the point of seeming irrational and exaggerated if one has never met the kind of overtly romantic, easily lovestruck type of man that Jean (and Baptiste) epitomize, but even as he gets drawn ever further into Helene's set-up, Agnes intuitively recognizes what her supposed friend is trying to do. Agnes does her best to resist and live life on her own terms, but she's young and dependent. With the plottings of her benefactress Helene, her mother's financial and emotional vulnerability and Jean's persistent courting, all earnest pledges and fervent ardor, she can hardly help but give in.
The plot unfolds all melodramatically and comes to a suitably wrenching conclusion when all the conniving done in secret comes to the surface. Here's a brilliantly-constructed scene where Helene reveal to Jean that she herself has conspired to heap shame and ridicule upon him. You may not understand the French dialog, but just watch the camera work as he tries to process what she's telling him.
Jean is confronted near the end with Helene's deception and has to make a decision as to what he'll do now that things have progressed to a certain point between the two. The ending is where the film finally seems to bow in compliance with the conventions of its times, but in doing so I felt satisfied with the outcome and able to embrace a Gallic twist on the "love conquers all" scenario.
Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne is not a major film by any means, but it's well-made and noteworthy as not only an early work of Bresson and wartime French cinema, but also for some of the ironic, wittily emotive dialog written by Jean Cocteau. (We first met Cocteau here in Blood of a Poet and we have several other films of his coming up soon.) I particularly enjoyed watching Maria Casares do her thing. She was blessed with powerful eyes and facial features just perfect for the role she's cast in here, magnificently inflicting nearly indetectable passive aggression on those around her with a serene deadpan visage and wicked feigned innocence whenever called into question. Helene isn't quite the unstoppable force of nature that Louise Brooks' Lulu was in Pandora's Box, but she stirs up a nice cold slice of malevolence for those of us who marvel at that sort of thing in the movies, where it really doesn't hurt anyone but can serve as a helpful "nature guide" when encountering such species in the real world we all inhabit.
Next: Spellbound
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