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La
Souriante Madame Beudet (The Smiling
Madame Beudet) (1923)
La
Couquille et la Clergyman (The Seashell
and the Clergyman) (1928 )
Made by one of the first female directors, Germaine
Dulac, in the 1920's, "The Smiling Madame Beudet" and
"The Seashell and the Clergyman" each hold very specific
distinctions in cinematic history. The first is lauded
as the first feminist film ever made while the second
is often considered the first surrealist film (though
it came out the same year as Bunuel and Dali's "Un Chien
Andalou"). Both are interesting and unique films without
a doubt and would deserve inclusion in any serious film
discussion about the silent, avant-garde and/or French
films which have shaped the language of cinema.
"Madame Beudet" is, of course, the more conventional
of the two films. Set in the drawing room of a bored
and disillusioned housewife, the film has a wonderful
sense of ennui. Dulac is so adept at turning images
into ideas that we don't even need to understand the
French title cards to comprehend the images. Beudet's
husband, an apparently successful businessman, either
ignores or belittles his wife. We deem that their relationship
must be precarious because he goes to the theatre without
her. Also, he often disturbs her by pointing a small,
unloaded pistol at his head. After we see Madame Beudet
taunted with in this way on numerous occasions, we begin
to envision the climax of the film. In fact, Madame
Beudet does put the bullets, which we've seen next to
the gun in the desk drawer, into the chamber of the
small pistol. But in a wondrous turn of events, the
film ends with her plan thwarted in the most interesting
manner.
Amid the undertaking of the story here, Dulac finds
ample time to intrigue and entertain us with her marvelous
cinematic images. Using super-imposition, odd camera
angles, iris-outs (where the screen collapses unto a
single, round image), smoke and mirrors (used in the
literal sense, they give us unique and distorted images
to contemplate), the director shows us the incredible
boredom Beudet endures. In one sequence, the wife reads
a book and, after showing us this action, Dulac gives
us a title screen that highlights the sentence she has
just read. This is followed by an image that visualizes
the sentence. Beudet reads of a bed, a perfectly placed
pillow and a vase of flowers. Each time after the title
card shows us the sentence she has just read, we see
the image representing the words. The shots are as stifled
and as static as Madame Beudet's life. The boredom of
the prose, punctuating the boredom of her existence,
the wife throws the novel to the floor. Later, in another
beautiful technique, Dulac shows us the endless yet
slow movement of time by superimposing a swinging pendulum
over a frame of Beudet in the midst of her discontentment.
While not the least bit subtle, the image is overpowering.
The frustration of this woman's existence is brought
to us with a simple image that we can understand and
easily relate to yet it is done so in a manner that
is highly original (especially for the cinematic time
period) and visually brilliant.
Dulac's cast also helps to bring the story and theme
to the screen with unusual moments. Germaine Dermoz
and Alexandre C. Arquilliere play the Beudets. Dermoz
is perfect, drearily wandering about the set while the
bombastic Arquilliere chews up any scenery in his path.
The juxtaposition of this quiet, somber woman against
this large and active man is quite dramatic. In a wonderful
exposition of their diversity, Dulac (and scripter Andre
Obey) have the couple constantly moving a vase of nondescript
flowers about a table. To offset her ennui, Madame Beudet
insists on placing the vase to the left of center, perhaps
even too close to falling off the table. Her husband,
upon passing the table while the flowers are placed
here, insists on returning them to the exact center
of the table, the most comfortable and secure spot.
In the film's perfect blocking, the two never see the
other move the vase. It is a constant source of tension
(and humor) in the film that silently expresses all
we need to know about both characters.
"The Smiling Madame Beudet" must be considered the
first feminist film because it articulates a frustrated
female's point of view in a very forthright manner.
Madame Beudet's feelings are the only ones we know during
the film. We see everything from her point of view.
And because Dulac is female as well, her understanding
and appreciation of the material leads us even further
into comprehending the main character, her dreams and
her frustrations. But this film has more than just it's
feminist history to be of interest here. The film is
a visual history punctuating the importance of French
cinema in the silent era. Unlike American films, which
became plot driven and dramatic representations of confrontations,
the French were more interested in the language of images
and the style of cinematics. They explored how images
could be used to represent illusions, dreams and other
intangible ideas. Dulac's film is a perfect example
of this search for new techniques and new languages.
More importantly, "Madame Beudet" seems to point the
way towards her later, more exploratory visual endeavor,
"The Seashell and the Clergyman."
After watching "Madame Beudet," it is hard to imagine
any other filmmaker than Dulac bringing us "The Seashell
and the Clergyman." Filled with odd images and seemingly
meaningless actions, the film must be considered somewhat
symbolic. Written by Antonin Artaud, who intended to
film it with himself as the star, the film is a surrealist
manifesto. Here, again, the images of dreams are used,
but the theme of the film is hardly hidden. With the
images of both the cloak of clergy and military uniforms
consistently butting against one and other, the film
hopes to discuss sex, lust, morality, spiritualism,
man's inhumanity, and hypocrisy, among other things.
Our first image is of the clergyman (Alex Alin -imagine
Henry Gibson in "Eraserhead) at work. Smashing glass
beakers while he continually pours liquid from one container
to another, the clergyman represents both spirituality
(by his uniform) and alchemy (by his actions). But his
rival here is conformity and authority, represented
by the militarily clad officer (Gerica Athanasiou) who
comes to confiscate his seashell, and it's liquid contents
(later to be seen as mother's milk -i.e. life). The
officer, just as quickly, summarily destroy the shell,
spilling it's contents to the ground.
After this the clergyman follows the officer through
the endless streets of the city. Here Dulac uses marvelous
super-imposition techniques to show us the conformity
of the real world, the one conformity has made. One
place is as angular and as nondescript as they next.
The officer's world is devoid of originality or wonder.
In this world Dulac shows us, one city street scene
melts into the next in an endless parade of singularity
and monotony. When the Clergyman finally finds the officer,
he is with a beautiful woman, wooing her in a confessional.
Here authority masks itself as loving and spiritual
to bring forth life (i.e. coupling with the maternal
woman). In anger, the clergyman attacks the officer
and, in another of Dulac's masterful images, the priest
strangles the military man until his face cracks in
two. Using stop-motion and, again, reflective images,
Dulac accomplishes this interesting visual feat. It
is a unique sequence of images that one cannot forget.
At this point, the film gets less forthright as the
clergyman continues to pursue the female and the officer.
At one point, the clergyman leaves a confessional to
confront femininity, and strips her breasts bare. Here
Dulac revels in the clergyman's feelings both of superiority
and sexuality. His ripping off of the bodice symbolizes
his unmasking both his superior position and his lust
as well. He is judge and voyeur in the scene. Eventually,
several maids appear (another feminine image) to clean
a large glass container in the center of a stark room.
After much nonsense, the clergyman breaks the spherical
jar and we see the females image in the wreckage.
Both allegory and surrealism, "The Clergyman and the
Seashell" is an iconoclastic tale. It ponders the origins
of the universe (and the human race) while forcing us
to consider social Darwinism, spirituality, and sexuality
within the contexts of the human condition. Dulac brings
us unique images that are often keys to a morality play.
Yet, just when we think we understand the logic of these
visuals, Dulac will place them within a whole new context.
The shifting after the film's first sequence, for example,
from a confrontation between authority and originality
to a partially lustful tale of obsession, is just one
of the examples of Dulac's ability to surprise us here.
She constantly holds our interest with her unique images
and Artaud's odd themes. While more avant-garde than
surreal, the film is a notable mark in the history of
cinema nonetheless.
Dulac gave up directing when sound technology was
introduced but her influence is evident in several filmmakers
work. Drawing on surrealism and George Melies, Dulac
work's seem to have influenced both Bunuel and David
Lynch. While Bunuel was on the same track with his films
around this time, one wonders if he could have continued
without others, like Dulac, also exploring the territory.
And one must note to distinct connection to Lynch's
work, in particular "Eraserhead" because so many of
his images seem directly taken from Dulac's film. The
use of distorted images, particularly of the human face,
are important to both of these filmmakers. Lynch, if
nothing else, expands upon Dulac's cinematic language
(even if it is true - as he claims - that he was unfamiliar
with work of this nature before creating "Eraserhead")
and brings it to the world of sound pictures. In his
later work he will add color to these images. If nothing
else, this gives us a small inkling as to what Dulac
may have created if she had continued her interesting
and ground-breaking work.
Notes on "Madame Beudet:"
Screenplay based on a one-act play by Obey and Denys
Amiel. Photographed by A. Morrin.
Notes on "The Seashell and the Clergyman:"
Photographed by Paul Guichard.
The film has no opening or closing titles.
Artaud withdrew from the film, for some reason, and
later renounced it. He apparently organized protests
when the film was exhibited.
The film was denied a certificate for exhibition in
England. Said the censor: "This film is so cryptic as
to be almost meaningless. If there is a meaning, it
is doubtless objectionable."
Personal note:
I viewed both of these films on PBS from a program
on the History of French Cinema produced by CUNY-TV.
The program was accompanied by a discussion prior to
the showing of the two pieces back to back. However,
I missed most of this discussion. Both pieces were accompanied
by classical music.
Review written in 1996
"The Smiling Madame Beudet:"
Report
Card
Script:
A
Acting: A+
Cinematography\Lighting: A+
Special Effects\Make Up: A+
Music: N/A
Final
Grade: A
"The Seashell and the Clergyman:"
Report
Card
Script:
A
Acting: A+
Cinematography\Lighting: A+
Special Effects\Make Up: A+
Music: N/A
Final
Grade: A+
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