Au hasard Balthazar presents the most significant challenge yet to this new style of "quick take" blogging I've adopted over the past month after resuming activity on this site. By reputation, it's one of Robert Bresson's most sublime and impeccably realized cinematic masterworks, and the reverential esteem in which its held by many of the most probing intellects and deeply versed experts on cinema is given ample documentation in the Criterion DVD's liner notes and supplements. By substance, it's a film that clearly takes its time relating a story redolent with Christian and existential symbolism, its message delivered by means of patiently composed images, exquisitely edited with a careful deliberation so painstaking that one finds no fault that Bresson and his coterie of admirers should reasonably expect that viewers of a refined sensibility will ponder it carefully before rendering their verdict. This is the kind of film that tends to make anyone who tosses off a rash dismissive summary look, if you'll pardon the pun, like a jackass.
But therein also lies some of the problem, even (dare I say?) hazards (sorry) of watching this film and then making so bold as to commentate upon it. Writing up a review of Au hasard Balthazar feels to me almost as audacious and risky an undertaking as is the task of authoring a new commentary on one of the biblical gospels - a project one doesn't simply leap into without at least acknowledging in humility that the text in question has already been the object of close, meticulous study, and is densely packed with material that can reasonably be interpreted in many, sometimes even contradictory, ways. Furthermore, the more definitive one's opinion on a particular passage, the more emphatic a point one seeks to make based on a certain exegesis, the more likely one is to provoke a passionate response from one of the film's defenders, especially if the conclusion cuts against the prevailing orthodoxy that has developed over the centuries (in the case of the Bible) or decades (nearly five of them, in the case of this film.)
Then again, I may be guilty of a bit of hyperbole there. In which case, I'm in good company, since indeed, Au hasard Balthazar has been quite a reliable generator of that substance since it premiered in 1966. One of the extras I alluded to on the DVD is Un metteur en ordre: Robert Bresson, a French TV program that aired back when the film was first released. In it, we are first treated to the praises offered by luminaries like Jean-Luc Godard, Louis Malle and Marguerite Duras, all three of whom bestow the highest words of benedictory approval on Bresson for his latest manifestation of brilliance. Even the moderator of the panel makes little effort to establish himself as voice of neutral objectivity, though of course his enthusiasm for the film carries neglible weight of influence when compared to the three cultural titans named above, who each basically regard Au hasard Balthazar as a vanguard breakthrough, heralding the cinema of the future, using the media of film and soundtrack to forge an entirely new form of artistic expression. It's really quite an amazing display of adulation in particular from two directors both very much in their prime and creating rather exceptional, innovative films themselves in this very era. It's clear that they see Bresson not as a rival, but rather as a master whom they both seek to emulate, and perhaps whose approval in some faint measure they seek.
Likewise, Donald Richie's solo interview serves as a paean to the overall greatness of Bresson and especially his notable achievement in this film. He admits to watching Au hasard Balthazar "many, many times" over the years, and is always moved to tears by the ending, observing that the film yields up new insights and makes fresh impacts upon him with each subsequent viewing. Though the reader by now may be on the fact that I have yet to be moved quite so deeply by this film, which I think I've seen probably five times now (always on DVD, never on the big screen, so keep that in mind), I don't doubt Richie's sincerity in the slightest. I just think he was in on the first wave, when Bresson's vision was indeed quite distinctive, pure and vital in its relation and distinction from the art films of that era, so the linkage of sentiment and initial discovery absolutely sets the tone for his comments offered nearly 40 years later (when that interview was conducted in 2004.)
Echoing much of what we see (and read, in James Quandt's equally laudatory liner notes) in the add-ons included with this edition, the library shelves of canonical film criticism are fairly well loaded with rapturous essays extolling the virtues of Au hasard Balthazar, to the point where it feels to me at times like I'm listening for the ring of truth from inside the middle of an echo chamber when I sample the consensus. Turning to see what that high influencer of conventional wisdom Roger Ebert had to say about the film, I was actually quite disappointed to see that he made a few sloppy mistakes in his write-up, mentioning in his "Great Films" review that "there is a local drunk who is not cruel or thoughtless to the animal, despite his other crimes." Maybe Roger had dozed off for a moment when Arnold (the local drunk he mentions) goes after Balthazar and his donkey companion with a chair, which we hear crashing down hard across the beasts' backs off camera, and which he tosses at them as they frantically run away from the abuse. The trauma is so severe that later, when Balthazar sees his abusive ex-owner in the crowd at a circus where he's been trained to perform, the poor animal gets frantic and in an instant loses the value that he'd brought to the circus, thereby landing him back in the hands of the man who'd treated him both cruelly and thoughtlessly.
And toward the end of the review, Ebert mentions that Balthazar, "old and near death, wanders into a herd of sheep... lies down and eventually dies" without taking note of the fact that the donkey had actually been shot (accidentally, caught in the crossfire as police of some sort presumably intercept a pair of smugglers who are using the donkey to carry stolen goods across a border) and was bleeding to death. Balthazar's death, then, is caused by his inadvertent involvement in a criminal human enterprise, making him a victim, perhaps even a martyr, not just a sad old beast who'd reached the end of his days. This is an important detail that seems to be overlooked a fair amount of the time in other written treatments of the film's ending. I don't really take offense at Ebert's simplified assertions about the film, but I offer it up more as evidence of how this hallowed classic of the art house scene has been objectified in its own way, as is often the case with other religious texts that get used as justification for sweeping pronouncements and sentimental application by those who invoke their authority.
So I'm spending all this time just setting up my own thoughts on Au hasard Balthazar by establishing the context in which I've viewed it over the years, led to believe by authorities that I trust and respect almost innately that this film is indeed a pinnacle of its art, a standard by which we can take the measure of other works. Without a doubt, I was suitably impressed by Bresson's genius in creating a uniquely memorable film, quite unlike anything I'd ever seen. The film evokes feelings of astonishment that struck me on several occasions as I watched a donkey, legendarily the most stubborn of all domesticated beasts, seemingly perform on cue in scenes that were so nicely framed and edited, flowing smoothly one after the other in such a way that one feels a sense of lyric naturalism as Balthazar hauls his physical (and also spiritual) loads across the picturesque, rustic terrain. But then again, what director is more famously patient even to the point of fighting off (or even seeking) mind-numbing tedium, shooting retake after retake, having to wait until just exactly the right expression (or lack thereof) has been captured, than Robert Bresson?
Well, just speaking for myself, the cold sad truth is, I'm pretty certain that I like just about all of Bresson's earlier films more than this one (well, I'd probably have to go rewatch Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne to be totally sure on that... in fact I'll just go ahead and exempt that one without even doing the revisit.) Diary of a Country Priest, A Man Escaped, Pickpocket - those three films at least all left me feeling quite satisfied with the blend of intellectual rigor, superb aesthetics and gripping contemplation of the particular challenges and ordeals faced by their respective protagonists. Balthazar, on the other hand, is a film consisting of numerous moments of miraculous beauty interspersed with scenes where it felt to me that Bresson was overextending his habitual employment of methods aimed at eliminating all aspects of "performance" from his cast. Though there are many instances scattered throughout the film where I firmly dispute Bresson's claim (made in the TV interview) that his objective is to show how people behave in real life, as opposed to the customary habits we've come to expect from movie actors, I'll offer just a few examples here.
First, there's Marie's nearly mute passivity during just about all of the most emotionally crucial moments of the film. She's frequently on the verge of being physically and/or sexually assaulted by Gerard, the sinister and aimless teenage hoodlum who hovers around her most of the time, and crosses the threshold of abuse far too often. Marie's statuesque posture during most of those occasions reeks of artifice to me. Even if she had a terrible reluctance to vocalize her feelings of insecurity, intrigue, dread and/or fascination, it's pretty clear to me that Bresson wants her positioned just so when she's on camera. I had a hard time getting past that obvious staging, even though she's sublimely and tragically beautiful in those scenes.
I was also quite distracted by the whole sequence involving the wino Arnold, asleep in his shanty and woken up by Gerard and his gang who want to warn him that the police are moving in, presumably to arrest him for an unsolved murder. Seeing that the cops are already approaching the house, the boys head out the back door, but they leave a gun for Arnold, which he subsequently points and shoots at one of the gendarmes, only to discover that the pistol wasn't loaded. The cop seizes the gun, notes the empty chamber, but takes no steps toward arresting his would-be killer. Instead, he takes Arnold by the wrist and tells him that he has some "terrific news" to share. Now I know that the French police force of the mid-1960s was quite different than the paramilitary patrols that monitor the streets of Ferguson, Missouri or Cleveland, Ohio or any other American metropolis in the 21st century. But an officer that non-chalant about a man who just pulled the trigger of a gun pointed at him... that just strains my credulity.
And finally, I'm still having a hard time making sense of Gerard's rampant mirror-smashing, bottle-throwing, booze-wasting vandalism at the celebratory party that Arnold threw to share the good news of his massive inheritance with his fellow visitors. In response to the young man's destructive frenzy, Arnold just sits there staring into space, his hands on his knees, not responsive at all to the chaos. OK, I can concede that perhaps Arnold is recognizing his unworthiness to inherit such a fortune, and so he refuses to interfere with Gerard's outburst. But nobody else at the party tries to stop him either. They just keep on dancing while shards of glass come crashing down all around, after he jumps up on the bar and starts pulling down shelves. Yes, I get that there's poetic justice being served here, and a dramatic enactment of providential balance being restored in the actions of this rebellious young destroyer, whose malice also serves as a messenger of divine wrath. But again, I see this scene as another indicator that Bresson's tactics did not always live up to his declared aspirations.
Nevertheless, this is an impressive, beautiful and highly evocative film. I also think it's flawed, a little too self-exalted and overly refined for its own good. Because of the indisputable brilliance and the critical establishment's fond appreciation of its auteur, Au hasard Balthazar is thereby shielded from some of the knocks that I think it deserves. I think Bresson would have done well to have collaborated just a bit more with his youthful actors especially, as it seems apparent that he was looking for an angle of approach to address this generation of children born after the war who were becoming so troublesome and disconsolate to the French bourgeoisie at the time. Still, there's no doubt that taken on its own terms, the film was and is extremely successful. I just think that Bresson might have successfully connected with a larger and more diverse audience that would stand to benefit from his insights, if he'd been more open to allowing more warmth and relying less heavily on the overt symbolism of this story about an endlessly patient, pitifully brutalized animal who died for the sins of the world into which it was born.
Next: Cul-de-sac