Due to some quirks in his production schedule and the availability of the actors he chose, Eric Rohmer released the 3rd and 4th installments in his series of Six Moral Tales out of sequence. So since I'm going through the films in chronological order, I'm going to review Tale #4, La collectionneuse, ahead of Tale #3, My Night at Maud's, which didn't make it to the screen until two years later. Maybe his unintended schedule adjustment was all for the best, since both films were regarded in their time as rather successful, with the former serving as a strong artistic advance over the first two "episodes" (The Bakery Girl of Monceau and Suzanne's Career) and the latter went on to earn two Academy Award nominations and was also in the running for the Palme d'Or in 1969. I wonder if My Night at Maud's would have met with such acclaim if it had been made earlier in Rohmer's career, or if La collectionneuse would have made the same impact if it had been his final release of the Sixties instead?
In any case, the film that Rohmer debuted in March 1967 seems to be an ideal fit for its time, from the vibrant multi-colored rainbow text of the title card to its unblinking examination of the implications of the sexual revolution's "free love" ethos that swept through Western societies, especially the more affluent and younger segments of the population. Its title, translated into English simply as The Collector (though it's the only one of the Tales to retain its French original in the Criterion set), refers to a derogatory term attached to Haydée, an enticing young woman who's very bold in satisfying her sexual desires with numerous men, at a pace where "a new one every night" is perhaps only a slight exaggeration. The men who view her with such disdainful contempt are Daniel and Adrien, two unintended housemates who have agreed to share a rental for a few weeks in a friend's villa on the French Riviera. Haydée, an ex-lover of the man who owns the place, still has just as much right to be there as they do, and she's not at all reluctant to use it as her home base when she goes out on the town to pick up a new bed mate for the evening. Her cavorting brings more disruption into the scene than either the artist Daniel or the antiques broker Adrien were expecting during their sought after idyll.
Circumstances threw them together, and even though nobody is exactly happy with the arrangement, none are determined enough to force the issue. What develops over the course of time they spend together is a tantalizing and unpredictable erotic power struggle, with each of the men addressing Haydée with searingly blunt, highly intellectualized cruelty. For her part, Haydée is unfazed and shows no signs of feeling vulnerable or intimidated by their insults or mockery. Neither does she show much interest in seducing either of them, perhaps preferring to take a more adventurous route in adding new specimens to her trophy case than simply netting the proverbial fish in a barrel. She's more than willing to verbally joust and engage in activities that might in other situations lead up to sexual intimacies with them (early morning swims, sunbathing on isolated patches of the seashore, one on one picnics in the tall grassy meadow, and so on.) But the gamesmanship takes on multi-dimensional complexities with each new encounter, the stakes continually raised with each passing day. Whatever physical pleasures might be derived from the process of settling this conflict, the prize of victory being awarded not to the one whose advances are yielded to, but to the one who can succeed in forcing the the other to reverse their earlier vow of disinterest in hooking up with the other. In short, who can make who "want it" more than their adversary does.
So there's all that going on, the sexual politics, the psychological tensions and a deeper explorations of those values that are implied in the series being named Six Moral Tales. But what's very fascinating to me about this film, and the series in general, is how Eric Rohmer tells the story. All these films are famously told from the first person point of view, so there's a lot of voice over that happens in them. It's not a cheap cover up for flawed filmmaking. Rohmer's intentions are very clear, and it's especially helpful to see this from reading the literary adaptation of the film (translated into English from his own short story, and included as a bound paperback book in the gorgeous Criterion box set.) In each of these tales, he's trying to put us in the mind of a particular individual whose perspective has relevance and application to a broad number of viewers who might identify with, or conversely distance themselves from, that narrator, who is in any case a personality worth examining.
Here, the eyes through which we see the story of La collectionneuse play out belong to Adrien, the antiques dealer. He's a very proud individual, enormously egotistical and seemingly unaware of just how overbearing he is - or if not oblivious, so convinced of his own intelligence and superiority that he feels entitled to such a lofty self-esteem. The extent of his conceit is quite remarkable, and he seems to have met his match in Haydée, the very desirable young woman, who is in her own way a perfect antagonist to Adrien. They're each quite aware of their talents and gifts, neither of them burdened by a sense modesty or empathetic concern for the feelings of others, so there's this mutual attraction that almost instantly turns into competitive rivalry.
Rohmer also puts them (and us) in a very sensual location, a quiet and unspoiled bit of coastline on the French Riviera at the height of summer. This was his first color film and it was brilliantly shot by a gifted young cinematographer, Nestor Almendros who established himself here as a top talent. We'll be seeing a lot more of his work on this blog - with ten more films currently included in the Criterion Collection and quite a few more that could conceivably be added down the road. The atmosphere of La collectionneuse is hypnotic and seductive - the tranquility of the seaside, languid seaweed brushing over rounded pebbles under transparent rippling waves, the dappled sunshine and generally sumptuous living conditions, even if the villa itself is a bit weathered and basic in its accommodations. Haydée is comfortable in the skimpiest of bikinis while Adrien and Daniel lounge about in briefs, bare-chested in their bathrobes, fairly exulting in their trim and handsome bodies. All of these physical elements add up to a paradisaical atmosphere, with almost a petri dish quality to it, everything is so ideally perfect to run this experiment in modern ethics.
For the viewer, it's quite alluring to just bask in this environment that Rohmer and Almendros put on the screen. The sensuality is so free and so candid that even those whose love lives aren't as unpredictable or multi-partnered can enjoy the experience of vicariously entering into this world and posing to ourselves the questions that Rohmer confronts us with. Is such untethered sexual availability something that we would take advantage of, if given the opportunity? It's clear that Haydée and Adrien (and Daniel too) are capable of getting their egos stroked in multiple ways by simply displaying their personal charisma without having to exert themselves all that strenuously. But is there a point where they should begin to consider the damage that their pursuits are inflicting on others? What would our response be if such people became part of our life? Are we ourselves in some way (not necessarily sexual) "such people?" Rohmer, who was in his mid-30s when he made the film, also appears to be asking what's happening with this generation of young adults. Is it simply the availability of the birth control pill that accounts for all this casual, almost compulsive, sleeping around? Are the criticisms from Adrien and Daniel directed toward Haydée valid, or are they symptoms of a brutal and hypocritical male chauvinism that can't stand for seeing a woman conduct herself the way that some men might, if it were within their power to effortlessly recruit new sexual partners simply by making themselves available?
In denying that she's merely a "collector," Haydée alludes to a deeper psychic connection that she has in mind, in a discussion early on as the characters are getting to know each other. She's searching for something, she doesn't exactly know what, but to her at least, her promiscuity is not simply a lapse of values or a crude fixation on lusty appetites that many of us have been taught to be ashamed of. She's been led to believe that her course of action could lead to something important and vital in understanding her own humanity. Perhaps this is just a glossy, self-justifying rationalization for inherently selfish and exploitative behavior, perhaps she's truly embarked on a path to some kind of enlightenment. We never really know, and Rohmer makes no effort to let us see the situation from her perspective. Haydée remains an enigma to us, and especially to Adrien, who lingers in her presence, gets to know her even more closely than we can just watching it all on the screen but still can't crack the code.
As it turns out, Haydée is not the only collector so identified in La collectionneuse. We also meet Sam, a wealthy American bent on adding a rare and expensive Chinese vase to his hoard of precious objects. For the moment, he desires to purchase the item that Adrien has made available through his own connections. And while the commission is presumably substantial enough in itself, Adrien hopes that the transaction will lead to a financial partnership between him and Sam as he seeks funding for a gallery that he'd like to open. In the process of furthering this working relationship, Adrien recognizes Haydée's potential as a bargaining chip that he can toss into the mix. Her appeal to the salacious old man quickly made apparent, Adrien wastes no time in using her for leverage, and it was at this point that he went from being merely annoying to reprehensibly loathsome and hopelessly lost in his own vanity. Haydée is presumably confident and secure enough to go along with the proposition, which leads to a climactic moment in the relationship more shattering than any of the three had anticipated. And when Haydée and Adrien finally go their own ways in the films final moments, it's with a whole lot more of a whimper than a bang.