Robert Bresson: Les dames du Bois de Boulogne (1945)

(Part 3 of my Robert Bresson retrospective.  See the sidebar for prior posts.)

After working in the tableau of the sacred in Les Anges du Peche, Bresson would next move to the secular world in his final studio production, Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne.  Like the previous film, .  Loosely adapted from an anecdote in Diderot's Jacques le Fataliste (for a more well-known stylistic comparison, think in the vein of Les liaisons dangereuses) and updated to a modern setting, Bresson again writes the scenario for the film with dialogue coming from elsewhere, in this case fellow famed director, Jean Cocteau.  If that seems like an interesting mix -- a modern melodrama retelling a 18th century short story with direction from the meticulous Bresson and words from the ostentatious Cocteau -- it's because it is.  The film doesn’t appear to be a bold statement delineating the talents of Bresson, but it does have much to recommend.

Set in 1940's France, upper-class Hélène (María Casares) and Jean (Paul Bernard) have been lovers for two years. When she mentions their growing apart and bluffs that they should see other people, he unexpectedly jumps at this opportunity.  Hélène, having still been in love with Jean does not take this rebuff well. In a memorable sequence, we see Helene’s face as Jean leaves the room, the light from the hallway beaming onto her as he opens the door to walk out, only for her to be overcome in darkness once the door closes. The next shot shows Helene on her bed, an icy glare over her face, as the camera slowly closes in and she simply proclaims “I’ll be revenged.”

Helene’s revenge revolves around befriending Agnès (Elina Labourdette), a down-on-her-luck cabaret dancer turned reluctant prostitute, and her mother (Lucienne Bogaert). Under the guise of a good Samaritan, she offers to pay off their debts and move them to an apartment such that Agnes could start her life anew. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Helene's plan is to introduce Agnes to the naive Jean, pushing him into falling for her, whereby they would ultimately wed, invoking a scandal and publicly humiliating Jean. Convoluted as that may seem, it’s exactly what happens, as the two are married and Agnes’ past is never broached (Jean nonchalantly ignores any attempt to explore it whenever it is brought up and Agnes is duped into thinking that Helene explained the situation to Jean). It is during the wedding reception that Helene clues the two of them in to her sinister plot, causing Agnes to faint (due to her weak heart) and Jean to run off in confusion. Jean returns later that evening to see Agnes, as she tells him she is more than willing to simply "let go" in order to release Jean from the situation. Instead, as the music stirs and the camera hovers over the heads of the couple, Jean confesses his love for her, giving her the strength to go on living and allowing both a moment of redemption.

One might think that Cocteau's poetic, densely worded, dialogue would be at odds with the rigid minimalism that Bresson prefers, but both men acquit themselves quite well in meshing their different styles as the lyrical element from Cocteau ends up providing an elegant edge to Bresson's deterministic eye. Cocteau has the characters talk in succinct, pithy sayings that and avoids overt exposition, something Bresson surely appreciated. At the same time, Bresson is masterful at pinpointing the precise moment to use Cocteau's words, a great example being the aforementioned scene where Helene vows her revenge. A moment earlier and her declaration doesn’t have quite the same power. As it stands, the film is something of a crossroads for the two men. In just five years both would be far removed from the romantic melodrama provided here, with Bresson moving forward with his unique form of notably sparse filmmaking, and Cocteau moving in the opposite direction, creating worlds of fantasy and surrealism in films like Beauty and the Beast and Orpheus.

Still, for as much praise as I can heap on the craft in the film, this is still a romantic melodrama at heart and it ultimately lacks the depth and resonance that Bresson had on display in Les Anges du Peche. Even other similarly styled French melodramas, such as The Earrings of Madame de…(I don’t have a wealth of French melodrama to pull from), have more to offer in terms of pulling you in to the emotional atmosphere of the film. A major factor that contributes to this is the apparent tug of war between the need to adhere to genre constraints and the feeling that Bresson is trying to push outside of the box in crafting his own brand of cinema.  This is most evident in the ending of the film. Dispelling genre conventions, after Helene tells Jean about her master plan, she is never seen again, thus we are never get to see the expected scene where she gets her comeuppance. Furthermore, the genre concedes that we have proof of Jean’s change of heart once he finds out about Agnes' past indiscretions. Yet, instead of showing us Jean going through the proverbial fire to get to this point, Bresson chooses to have it happen entirely in-between scenes. To add to that, Bresson seems to ignore how Jean is portrayed throughout his “undying love” for Agnes coming across as not much more than an obsession, further undercutting his sudden change in spirit.

This all points to a slight lack of plausibility, which is distracting at first glance. Yet, upon closer inspection many of these nitpicks can be lined up fairly well with the aesthetic that Bresson prefers to work in, distilling the film to its basic tenants without exposition or wasted energy.  It's not hard to see that Bresson was experimenting in structure here, changing the way emotions and plot points are disseminated to the viewer. It's certainly an original way of filming a melodrama, a genre not well-suited to diverse stylistic changes.

It’s also not unreasonable to think that Bresson disliked having little to deal with in terms of thematic constructs. The themes the film does touch on are done too quickly. The concept of redemption through love was handled better in Les Anges where it formed the crux of the film. The other themes that one can see, such as love triumphing over deceit and deception or love surpassing the social laws of popular society feel mundane when you consider the theological leanings of Bresson.

Exposition and character development may be simply delineated, inline with Bresson's minimalist attitude, but that simplicity isn't reflected in Bresson's camera. While typically keeping the camera tight on his subjects, creating a closed-in sense of confinement, he also loosens up that feeling with a surprisingly large number of tracking shots and camera pans. Even if this seems contrary to Bresson’s reputation, it’s obvious he would have still excelled if he continued working in this more conventional manner as he creates some worthy compositions, such as the camera following Helene down a stairwell while simultaneously tracking with Jean in an elevator or when Agnes places an envelope on the rear window of a car, only for it to be caught in the wind and blow back to her.

My personal favorite of these well crafted scenes is near the end of the film, after Jean and Agnes have learned how Helene has tricked them. After Agnes swoons, a perplexed Jean rushes to leave in his car, frustrated at the cryptic remarks and strange manner in which everyone is acting.  However, he is blocked from driving away by Helene's car, while Helene is standing outside his driver side window. As Helene clues him in finally (“It’s quit simple. You’ve married a tramp.”) his rage increases and he furiously attempts to inch his way out, backing up and moving forward. During his attempt to flee, we see Helene standing in the same spot outside of his driver side window, her face respondent with the smug look of satisfaction as she continues to lay out her plan to him. When he is forced to put his car in reverse, the camera stays fixed to Jean, forcing Helene to leave the right side of the frame. Then, with each subsequent move forward, Helene's cold, devilish image comes back in the frame, taunting Jean, his increasing inability to escape becoming palpable, until finally Jean is able to get free and drives off. (Interestingly enough, this happens to be the last we see of Helene in the film).

Cinematographer Philippe Agostini, as he did in Les Anges du Peche, employs a striking black and white palette, most noticeable in Casares' contrasting black attire and white skin. Similar to their previous collaboration, Agostini and Bresson play with chiaroscuro lighting to create moods, showcasing this technique on the faces of the actors. In more stark contrast to Les Anges, Bresson’s camera lingers on the sensuality of the women, capturing their allure, as well as their moments of heartache. Also in contrast is the elegant set design (courtesy Max Douy) and sweeping music (courtesy Jean-Jacques Grünenwald), pushing the end product toward something that is much more dynamic, adventurous, and opulent than the more muted Les Anges (and, if his reputation holds up, even more so compared to what his future endeavors hold).

Bresson’s eye seems to relish Casares as Helene, which is funny when you consider that she called him “a sweet tyrant” and he reportedly asked her to take sedatives in order to tone down her overacting. Despite how odd it must have been for actors of this era to work in the detached manner Bresson preferred (it’s no wonder he moved to untrained actors who knew no better), Casares does a incredible job as the icy, snake-like Helene, Dressed in black throughout, she is the epitome of the vengeful woman scorned, an elemental force of nature, yet with a hint of fiendish charm. It speaks to the power of Casares’ performance that the truly indelible ending moment is not when we last see Jean and Agnes together, but the fade out on Helene’s smirking face prior to that scene.

Labourdette does a fine job as Agnes. She stands as a contrast to the overpowering Helene, portraying a candor that is balanced with the freshness of youth and the weariness of what she has had to endure. She’s believable as a woman who knows all of the ploys men will use, making her guarded with Jean’s advances. Speaking of Jean, it's hard to overlook how poor the casting of Bernard is for this role. Even as it’s intended for his character to be the clueless dupe who is hopelessly in love, he lacks any spark when next to either Casares or Labourdette. The problem is furthered by the fact that the two women throw off so much natural charisma that he can't help but pale in comparison.

Bresson’s first two films are known as the outliers in his career, yet despite not being “pure” Bresson, his style and themes still shine through. Yet, it is apparent that by continuing to work in the world of large studio productions he’d never have the opportunity to fully delve into the style he longed to work in. Thus, he struck out on his own and his next film, released five years later, would be the film that many claim defines his unique style, Diary of A Country Priest.

Labels: director retrospective, les dames du bois de boulogne, movie reviews, movies, robert bresson