La prisonnière (1968)
(Woman in Chains)
Country: FR/IT
Technical: Eastmancolor 106m
Director: Henri-Georges Clouzot
Cast: Laurent Terzieff, Elisabeth Wiener, Bernard Fresson
Synopsis:
The companion of a jobbing artist falls for the impresario who exhibits his work, and whose predilection for niche photography awakens a tendency in her that has passed unrecognized.
Review:
Clouzot's last film, and first in resplendent Eastmancolor, is a stylish curio that appears to be channelling Alain Robbe-Grillet for the exploitation market. From the opening shots in which the protagonist toys provocatively with Cindy dolls, to the photo shoot in which Dany Carrel perspires erotically under a transparent waterproof, there is a sensuality here which seems bold for its time. Wiener is superb as the ethically relaxed girlfriend, who is incredulous at interview footage she is studying of women who submit to abusive relationships, but falls in love with an introverted voyeur incapable of connecting sexually with another human being, and who instead plays sadistic games from behind his camera. Indeed, the scenario is riven with contradictions, some knowing (the wealthy aesthete calling the working class artist bourgeois because of his opprobrium, a reproof which is then turned against him by the latter on account of his emasculated depravity), others less so (Josée is genuinely turned on by the photo shoot and by the domination roleplay with Stanislas, but later claims that she only submitted to it because she loves him: 'How little you understand women!') The director appears to be wanting to have his erotic cake and eat it: the romantic weekend at the coast, which also showcases one of the film's more grandiose sequences, as the lovers stand in evening finery on a wave-pounded rocky shore, is so out of keeping with the rest of the movie, and implies such a sudden reassessment of character psychology, that it is as if he is wishing to drag back his bourgeois audience who might be making for the exit. A photograph is tellingly the device by which the film gets back on track and heads towards its tragic conclusion. Taken altogether, however, and ignoring its rather more obvious English language title, La prisonnière dares to go places few auteurs at the time, including Hitchcock, would do so overtly, without inviting derision or embarrassment, while exploring contemporary attitudes to sexuality in all their confusion. Furthermore, it boasts substantial performances from its two leads (Fresson is far more pudding-like) and leaps off the screen in bold colours, gorgeous interior design, and unsettling outpourings of modern art that hint luridly at the underlying themes.
(Woman in Chains)
Country: FR/IT
Technical: Eastmancolor 106m
Director: Henri-Georges Clouzot
Cast: Laurent Terzieff, Elisabeth Wiener, Bernard Fresson
Synopsis:
The companion of a jobbing artist falls for the impresario who exhibits his work, and whose predilection for niche photography awakens a tendency in her that has passed unrecognized.
Review:
Clouzot's last film, and first in resplendent Eastmancolor, is a stylish curio that appears to be channelling Alain Robbe-Grillet for the exploitation market. From the opening shots in which the protagonist toys provocatively with Cindy dolls, to the photo shoot in which Dany Carrel perspires erotically under a transparent waterproof, there is a sensuality here which seems bold for its time. Wiener is superb as the ethically relaxed girlfriend, who is incredulous at interview footage she is studying of women who submit to abusive relationships, but falls in love with an introverted voyeur incapable of connecting sexually with another human being, and who instead plays sadistic games from behind his camera. Indeed, the scenario is riven with contradictions, some knowing (the wealthy aesthete calling the working class artist bourgeois because of his opprobrium, a reproof which is then turned against him by the latter on account of his emasculated depravity), others less so (Josée is genuinely turned on by the photo shoot and by the domination roleplay with Stanislas, but later claims that she only submitted to it because she loves him: 'How little you understand women!') The director appears to be wanting to have his erotic cake and eat it: the romantic weekend at the coast, which also showcases one of the film's more grandiose sequences, as the lovers stand in evening finery on a wave-pounded rocky shore, is so out of keeping with the rest of the movie, and implies such a sudden reassessment of character psychology, that it is as if he is wishing to drag back his bourgeois audience who might be making for the exit. A photograph is tellingly the device by which the film gets back on track and heads towards its tragic conclusion. Taken altogether, however, and ignoring its rather more obvious English language title, La prisonnière dares to go places few auteurs at the time, including Hitchcock, would do so overtly, without inviting derision or embarrassment, while exploring contemporary attitudes to sexuality in all their confusion. Furthermore, it boasts substantial performances from its two leads (Fresson is far more pudding-like) and leaps off the screen in bold colours, gorgeous interior design, and unsettling outpourings of modern art that hint luridly at the underlying themes.
(Woman in Chains)
Country: FR/IT
Technical: Eastmancolor 106m
Director: Henri-Georges Clouzot
Cast: Laurent Terzieff, Elisabeth Wiener, Bernard Fresson
Synopsis:
The companion of a jobbing artist falls for the impresario who exhibits his work, and whose predilection for niche photography awakens a tendency in her that has passed unrecognized.
Review:
Clouzot's last film, and first in resplendent Eastmancolor, is a stylish curio that appears to be channelling Alain Robbe-Grillet for the exploitation market. From the opening shots in which the protagonist toys provocatively with Cindy dolls, to the photo shoot in which Dany Carrel perspires erotically under a transparent waterproof, there is a sensuality here which seems bold for its time. Wiener is superb as the ethically relaxed girlfriend, who is incredulous at interview footage she is studying of women who submit to abusive relationships, but falls in love with an introverted voyeur incapable of connecting sexually with another human being, and who instead plays sadistic games from behind his camera. Indeed, the scenario is riven with contradictions, some knowing (the wealthy aesthete calling the working class artist bourgeois because of his opprobrium, a reproof which is then turned against him by the latter on account of his emasculated depravity), others less so (Josée is genuinely turned on by the photo shoot and by the domination roleplay with Stanislas, but later claims that she only submitted to it because she loves him: 'How little you understand women!') The director appears to be wanting to have his erotic cake and eat it: the romantic weekend at the coast, which also showcases one of the film's more grandiose sequences, as the lovers stand in evening finery on a wave-pounded rocky shore, is so out of keeping with the rest of the movie, and implies such a sudden reassessment of character psychology, that it is as if he is wishing to drag back his bourgeois audience who might be making for the exit. A photograph is tellingly the device by which the film gets back on track and heads towards its tragic conclusion. Taken altogether, however, and ignoring its rather more obvious English language title, La prisonnière dares to go places few auteurs at the time, including Hitchcock, would do so overtly, without inviting derision or embarrassment, while exploring contemporary attitudes to sexuality in all their confusion. Furthermore, it boasts substantial performances from its two leads (Fresson is far more pudding-like) and leaps off the screen in bold colours, gorgeous interior design, and unsettling outpourings of modern art that hint luridly at the underlying themes.