Around the World in 24 Frames 10.09.09: Belle De Jour
Posted by Len Archibald on 10.09.2009
We dive right into part four of Luis Buñuel's filmography by examining his, mine, and everyone's fetishes. Let's see who likes whipped cream and who likes the whips...I like Ruby Slippers. Read on to find out!
It's FRIDAY~!
The Rant
So, a few weeks ago I made a fleeting statement about watching The Wizard of Oz on the big screen. I had wanted to say something about it last week, but the whole Roman Polanski thing took center stage. On a side note, it is amusing to see how many members of the "moral police" we have around these parts. I think Polanski should pay for his crimes, but people are treating this like it's Bible-times and he should be stoned in public. To each his own set of rules, I suppose.
Through Shawn S. Lealos' 4 R's Report, I found out that Turner Classic Movies was collaborating with Fathom Events to present a high-definition screening of The Wizard of Oz for it's 70th anniversary at select theaters across the country. As soon as I found out there was one going on in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I sent a text message to my wife:
wizard of oz in ft wayne-we're going end of discussion
I have lived on this planet for nearly thirty-one years and have only experienced the beloved fantasy film on the small screen. We own the latest (well, not anymore) Special Edition DVD with a beautiful color transfer and on our nice little home theater setup, it seemed to be the best way we would ever see it. Well, thank GOD for this event.
We arrived to the theater and I performed my ritual of finding the best seat in the theater. I am EXTREMELY anal about watching movies. I need to be in the best seat, where I can see the whole picture in my eyeline and have a properly balanced sonic experience. I study where the theater places the speakers, where the seats are, if it is a stadium (or not) etc. We found the perfect seats, and I was a happy camper.
The theater filled up pretty quickly. A mother and daughter had dressed up as Dorothy, complete with ruby slippers. Another little girl dressed in kind. While everyone waited for the film to start, there were trivia questions relating to the movie up on the screen. An older couple were giddy trying to answer them. It then dawned on me how diverse the audience was in regards to age. Nowadays, movies are specifically made to cater to a specific "demographic"; we got the "tween" dance-musical-cute vampires and wizards horror movies, the adult-gory horror movie, the hunky guy gets/loses beautiful girl romantic comedy/drama, the "animated kids film that has enough adult humor so we can say it is for ALL ages" and the "Rated R Comedy". Not many films are truly geared towards all audiences anymore, since our culture and tastes have so dramatically shifted in the past 50 years – that's another rant for another time. It was just really cool to see young and old gathering to see the same movie.
We were treated to an introduction by TCM's Robert Osborne and a "making of" featurette hosted by Angela Lansbury that showed some rare footage. Then we were off to see the Wizard…!
When the film began, there were a few kids talking…nothing terrible, but my cynicism began to creep in my mind thinking that in our ADHD society, would it be possible for the children in the audience to pay attention to the movie. As soon as the opening credits brightened up the screen, I could feel being whisked away into 1939 with my wife, but wasn't sure if it would have the same effect for those who grew up with Spongebob, Bob the Builder, Harry Potter and Twilight. A few smattering of chuckles and laughs (mainly from the nostalgic adults) and it seemed that this would be more of a movie experience that me and my wife would enjoy…
…Then the tornado hit. The sound was unlike anything I had experienced watching the film in my youth. The swooshing of the wind attacked at all angles on the speakers, and there was a sense of urgency for Judy Garland's character that I could ever remember. The sequence where Dorothy was in the house witnessing the different objects and people (cows, a rowing couple) was always silly to me, but then I remembered that this was "lighter" in tone.
THUMP. The house landing in Oz was one of the loudest things I have ever experienced in my movie-going experience…and I've been assaulted by both Transformers movies. I felt a sense of glee and anticipation because I remember seeing The Wizard of Oz and knowing that Dorothy was about to enter a world of color was something I wished to always see on the big screen.
When she opened the door, and the audience witnessed the rainbowed land ahead…Pin drops. I could literally feel the awe of the children around me getting swept up. I shared a glance with my wife, who linked her arm with mine in that dark theater, and I'm sure we both thought "the movie still has IT." There was silence (with the odd moment for laughter scattered) for the duration of the film.
From there, my experience watching The Wizard of Oz was twofold: I was just as engaged watching the audience as I was watching the film. With every song, I could see the bopping of the heads in the seats in rhythmic unison. As the Munchkins took center stage, I could see children pointing and questioning their parents (or grandparents) to who each one was and their importance to Oz. I got to witness the entrance of The Wicked Witch and see both young and old awe at her nastiness towards Dorothy (and her little dog, too!)
There was so much of The Wizard of Oz I had never seen before, simply because the picture was larger and clearer. There were more live animals – birds especially, that I never caught with my young eyes. Jessica had always been aware of the urban-legend of someone who had apparently hung themselves during a particular moment in the film was just that, as the scene where she was told it always took place was filled with a gigantic bird in the background flapping its wings and bobbing. We got to witness the glory of The Cowardly Lion's antics, including his ridiculous "King of the Forest" musical aside. The flying monkeys were just as scary as I remembered them to be (the sight of them yanking out The Scarecrow's straw probably messed some kids up that evening), the music was just as inspiring and the revelation of the now iconic "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" was a great tension-killing moment, where the theater exploded in laughter.
I'll always remember a particular moment that night: at the near-conclusion, before Dorothy was about to click her heels and return home, she gave her heartfelt goodbyes to her newfound trio of friends. A little girl, no more than five or six years old was sitting with her parents behind us in tears pleading, "Does she really have to leave them?" Poor little girl was just as sucked into Oz as the rest of us. This may wind up becoming her favorite movie of all time.
When the film ran through its final reel and "The End" appeared on the screen, we all gave it a hearty applause in appreciation for catering to our imaginations for the first time, or for the first time in years. I am extremely envious of those children who were able to experience The Wizard of Oz on the big screen for the FIRST TIME. I'm sure it's a time they will never forget.
I will always remember the very moment that I decided to become a filmmaker – or be involved with the movies in some way: my family went to see E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial one Saturday evening. Once those credits began to roll at the end and John Williams' score soared up to the moon and into my consciousness, I instantly became a movie-junkie. There was a magic and enlightenment I felt watching that movie that I cannot describe as being nothing more than a spiritual awakening. I'm sure some of those children felt that watching The Wizard of Oz. I'm sure a great storyteller, performer or someone just infected by the bite of the dreaded movie-bug was born that evening.
This has been my problem, in principle with the idea of the remake. I know that Hollywood has been involved with remaking films forever, but when a movie is done right the first time – there is no need to do it again. We live in an age where we can access nearly any piece of information we want. Instead of spending oodles of money on "new talent" and "new marketing" on an old idea – how about actually seeing if the old idea still works? I think the higher-ups that run the studios take their audience for granted. We all want to laugh, cry, escape, be inspired, be scared and become caught up with the power of cinema. There are movies that do it well. They're timeless and universal. That's why they're called classics. If Judy Garland can still bring an eight or eighty year old to tears with Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I think its possible that maybe if you brought that same mindset to the original Halloween, The Seven Samurai or Lawrence of Arabia and just re-issued them, we would have a more complete, diverse and profitable film audience.
I hope to do this in five years for Gone With the Wind's 75th.[/end rant]
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I love movies. They represent escapism, art, intellect and spirituality. Some are nothing more than popcorn flicks, designed to ease the burden of "real-life" for a couple of hours. Some bring important issues to the forefront that challenges how we perceive our surroundings. The most important thing for me – if one is a serious film-goer – is to constantly expand and discover new movies. This includes experiencing stories told outside of North America.
Yes, I know: "I don't like to read while I watch movies". Well, neither do I, but I won't use that to prevent me from finding a great story within the screen. It is important, as human beings to discover other cultures and expand our perceptions of those different from us and how they see the world. There are reasons that Bergman, Kurosawa, Fellini, Ozu and Truffaut are important in the movie world – They are just great at what they do.
I intend to highlight a new film every week that is considered "foreign-language"; now that definition is simple, yet broad and complex. For example, if you need subtitles to understand the events of the plot, I will discuss it. If it is a film from a primarily English-speaking nation, but is *NOT* in English (i.e. Leolo or Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner from Canada), I will discuss. If it is a film from outside the U.S. and it *is* in English, I will not discuss (sorry, Brits & Aussies) – for now. My goal is to shed light on some of these gems, and help quell the insatiable appetites for those who can't live without seeing a new movie. Enjoy!
Belle De Jour (1967)
France
Dir: Luis Buñuel
Runtime: 101 min
Human beings are strange creatures. We have wants and desires. Some are wholly superficial, such as the desire for riches, cars, clothes and expensive toys. Some are internal and personal, like the desire for inner-peace and self-fulfillment of a particular goal or noble deed in life. Then there are some that are far deeper, more instinctual in nature and are driven by primal urges.
Catherine Deneuve plays Séverine Serizy, a middle-class housewife that is bored with her sense of virtue and decides to act out her fantasies in Luis Buñuel's delicious Belle De Jour. "Delicious" may seem like a strange or even pretentious adjective to describe a movie, but I think of Luis Buñuel's strangely erotic drama as an indulgence – much like how we yearn for a piece of chocolate (which is known as an aphrodisiac in its own right.) This is a film that doesn't play with the audience. It plays with and is all about the title character.
Séverine is trapped in a boring marriage with her surgeon husband, Pierre (Jean Sorel), who is fond of her virtuous nature. They sleep in separate beds. When he attempts a mild advance on his wife early on, she quietly dismisses him and he reacts like a scolded little boy. He kisses her on the forehead, but without the passion in the way that a husband would kiss his wife; his kiss was more equal to how a son kisses his mother. Is this the relationship they have? Is Pierre a "mama's boy", or even suffers from an Oedipus Complex? Is Séverine aware of this and isn't hip to the idea that Pierre may have repressed sexual desires for his mother?
There are many subtle nuances that Buñuel slyly presents to the audience, some of them obvious – some of them secrets that only the characters share, either with each other or to themselves. Séverine has signals that express her fetishes…A kitten's meow or carriage bells will enter the soundtrack. These are the things that "turn her on". As the film opens, we see Séverine on a carriage ride with Pierre on a trail in the park. They share a brief tender moment, before Pierre orders Séverine out of the carriage. She is dragged away by the chauffeurs, who tie her to a tree and whip her – all the while, Pierre humiliates her verbally, calling her a "tramp" and a "bitch". The scene ends with Pierre allowing one of the chauffeurs to "have her". He kisses her on the neck, and Séverine submits. She wakes up.
Catherine Deneuve plays Séverine as a woman who is prey to her own internal desires. She is a quiet masochist, and wants to be submissive. She learns of an expensive brothel where housewives work in the afternoons to make some extra money while their husbands are away at work. Séverine arrives at one of these, is let in by the experienced Mme. Anais (Genevive Page), and quickly decides to flee. She returns the next day, but tries to make her own rules by picking her clients, and is pushed by Mme. Anais – Séverine responds quietly, "Yes, madame."
"I see you need a firm hand," smile, Anais – and she understands the basis of Séverine's fetish.
Mister (or MEE-stah, as my wife calls him) is our house cat that's been with us since we've been together. He is playful, responsive and eager. You call him and he will meow if he knows you. If you pat and stroke him a certain way, he purrs. If you tug at his tail, or you stroke him a little rougher, he mews like a newborn kitten, rolls around and his purrs can be heard from across the room. We know he likes it rough. Séverine's character is like that of our cat, tug her and she responds.
There are several instances where Séverine gives glimpses into her depreciating nature. One fantasy shows her being dragged to a tree in a perfect white nightgown while Pierre and his friend, Henri (Michel Piccoli) toss mud at her, while calling her a slut. Buñuel offers quick cutaways to her childhood – one where she refuses communion, and another, stranger one – where she, at about 9 or 10 years old, is lovingly kissed by an older man on the cheek. It is brief, but strong in its implication. Séverine is a young woman, but Pierre is younger (or at least, acts younger around her.) I don't think Séverine wants to be treated gently and put on a pedestal like the recipient of "puppy love", but forcefully, like a woman, and with a man who knows what and how to give her what she wants (and maybe, things that she isn't even aware she wants, but only a man can teach her.) I'm reminded of that great R&B song, "Son of a Preacher Man", where those lyrics drip with sexual innuendo…
"The only one that could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man,
The only boy that could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man…"
One of the more famous scenes in Belle De Jour deals with an Asian man and a buzzing little box. We never find out the contents of this package except that it is something this man uses for his own sexual pleasure. Some of the other women want nothing to do with it, including Séverine, but she gives into curiosity. We are never shown what occurred between the two of them. I'd like to think the buzzing box with its unknown contents inspired Quentin Tarantino's glowing briefcase in Pulp Fiction.
This is the way Luis Buñuel works his film. He – probably better than any filmmaker in history – understood that our desires and hidden urges are just that because of the use of our imagination. There is no nudity in Belle De Jour, yet eroticism bursts from every frame. Buñuel shot no sex scene, but there is enough innuendo to go around. There are half-glances, moments of raw lust and moments of sexual curiosity that is generated to pique interest. Séverine fails with a client whose fetish is to be "punished" for his misdeeds (role-playing as a naughty butler.) When she is sent away, Mme. Anais takes her into another room with a peephole and has her observe. "That's disgusting!" Séverine exclaims…Before she takes another glance. Norman Bates…or better still – Norman Bates' mother – could probably fully relate to this moment.
That is how human nature works. We know it is wrong to stare at the remains of an automobile wreck and its grizzly aftermath, but our base instincts betray our manners. Young boys know it is wrong to go through their father's stack of Playboy magazines, but 1) they somehow find them, no matter where they are hidden and 2) the more we're told not to indulge in something, the more we're interested in seeing how far we can indulge in it. Somehow, there are moments in our lives that hardwire thoughts, likes, and dislikes that can predetermine the path we set ourselves on. We are each capable of self-fulfilled destiny if we are more in tune to our basic urges.
Luis Buñuel, along with cinematographer and long-time collaborator Sacha Vierny shot Belle De Jour in an extremely straightforward manner. No shot was created simply to show off style, as the style was infused in the unspoken and unseen moments of the film. This is now considered a bold approach to visual storytelling, as we are hit over the head with exposition and explanation in modern pictures. It is rare to see a filmmaker attempt to tell a story and keep elements only for the characters – such as the final whisper between Bill Murray and Scarlett Johannsen in Lost in Translation or Anton Chigurh's climax with his final (was it final?) victim in No Country For Old Men. Even the great Stanley Kubrick fell prey to showing and attempting to explain too much in what I think was his antithesis to Belle De Jour with Eyes Wide Shut.
Late in the film, Séverine gets involved with a young gangster named Marcel (Pierre Clémenti), who walks around in leather, has razor sharp metal teeth and is crude. She does not charge him. Their affair gets heated, but poor Marcel is unaware that what he wants is not what Séverine wants. When we're children, we all desire a certain toy that seems unattainable. When we finally get it, what do we do with it? Marcel does not understand this basic line of thinking and it unravels into a dramatic – and somewhat ironic climax where at the end of the day, fulfillment of desires only succeeds in the imagination.
Luis Buñuel understood the power of the human imagination. He suggested that if it was up to him, he would spend twenty-two hours a day trapped in his dreams and the other two writing them down (if he could remember them.) His surrealist debut, Un Chien Andalou, collaborated with Salvidor Dali, was a landmark work of nothing but ideas, images, and a stream of consciousness that was captured on camera. He would focus this line of thinking to attack the powerful, the rich, the well-mannered and even the church to reflect the hidden hypocrisy he witnessed in modern society. In his old age, the Spaniard found better, quieter ways to illicit reaction and his cynical nature. Buñuel understood that our own imaginations, fetishes, secret desires and dreams can both haunt and save us. He would take these ideas and use dreams to torture and mock his characters (The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie) or, in the case of Belle De Jour to help through times of self-revelation.
I'm a man that is – really, just an intelligent sexual beast. I like certain things. I like a certain kind of woman. I have been stuck with images of desire my entire life. I share these with my wife, and she shares hers in kind. These are our primal urges that carry us away in times of boredom, curiosity and stimulation. It is instinctive in nature. Much like how a moth is attracted to light or a dog wagging its tail when happy but does not understand the base impulse can be used as an example of why someone may like dark hair, or blondes. Or a round bottom. Or whips and chains. Or feet. Or the sound (or feeling) of a buzzing object.
Trailer for Belle De Jour
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{Film Passport Stamped]
Coming Attractions: The final chapter of my Luis Buñuel retrospective – a marvelous comedy where guest come to eat, but cannot leave (kind of like how I got married!)
Questions or comments? Email me at aa24frames@aol.com!!!
