“Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne” (1945)
If the films of Robert Bresson are characterized by their ascetic minimalism, diegetic sound and overall austerity, then his second picture, “Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne,” is perhaps his most dynamic, and is therefore an anomaly right down to its opulent milieu. While still relatively quiet and slowly paced, here we get flourishes of dramatic scoring, mood and narrative that bear at least some resemblance to a Hollywood melodrama or a film that perhaps could have been directed by Jean Cocteau (who wrote it) or even Jean Renoir. This is largely because ‘Bois de Boulogne’ was Bresson’s last film to feature a cast entirely composed of professional actors and the true, spare, stripping down of his work would not begin in earnest until his next film. The story is of a woman scorned, and if Hell hath no fury like one, you ain’t seen nothing til you see this vengeful shrew. The film plays out as a near-romantic tragedy centering on two long-time but casual lovers, Hélène (María Casares) and Jean (Paul Bernard), who also enjoy relationships with others. But things suddenly shift when Jean confesses to Hélène that his love is waning and he would like to gear down their relationship to a “just friends” status. Too prideful to show her dismayed true feelings, she feigns indifference and concurs, and they decide to go their separate ways. But rather than mourning their love, Hélène plans to exact cruel retribution by angling the sweet, young, Agnes (Elina Labourdette), a cabaret dancer and prostitute into Jean’s path. In a manipulative pretense of generosity and compassion, Hélène decides to pay the girl’s mother’s debts to have her move into a nearby apartment — putting into play a masterful plan that quickly hooks the smitten Jean who knows nothing of Agnes’ past. When her secret is revealed after they are married, disgracing Jean, Hélène takes her wicked slowburn revenge with a deep, devilish satisfaction that must have been shocking for its day. However, a tearful happy ending feels like Bresson second-guessing his true nature — something he would not often do from here on out. [B]
“Diary of a Country Priest” (1951)
Serving as the prototype for Bresson’s firm cinematic language, his third film is an incredibly moving account of a guileless holy man (an astonishingly good Claude Laydu) tending to his first parish in an unwelcoming country village. Jotting frank thoughts in his journal, the priest finds himself suffering from day one: his stomach has trouble handling anything other than stale bread soaked in sugary red wine, the elder preachers often belittle him, and locals frequently give him the cold shoulder. The lack of hospitality by the townsfolk likely stems from his youth and also some unfortunate timing, as his first sight in Ambicourt is of a Count smooching with his daughter’s tutor. Given the gossipy nature of nearly everyone in the film, it’s certain that Laydu was the victim of a nasty whispering campaign, but the dedicated priest refuses to give up his responsibility to the people, regardless of whether they respond or not. Though the director’s philosophy on filmmaking, given free rein for the first time here, initially sounds alienating (specifically he demanded countless takes to drain his “models” of any calculated emotion), actually it results in something immensely powerful. By relying on the natural look of his principal model — Laydu, whose face is the pinnacle of innocence and patience — he births a very pure emotional response, where even a scene involving the rush of a motorcycle ride (and the smile it awakens) becomes incredibly impressive. In spite of the many elements beating the cleric down, he more or less retains his faith, and this positive assurance is echoed within the film’s aesthetic: amidst the isolating framing, Bresson frequently connects scenes with abnormally long cross-dissolves that give the film a smooth, soothing quality. This choice also makes this one stand out from the pack, avoiding the pessimistic feel that many of his movies exude. Bresson’s working style on this picture would influence and echo throughout the rest of his career, but the film is and was a standalone triumph too: coming after his poorly received “Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne” it went on to win eight international awards, including the Grand Prize at the Venice International Film Festival. [A]
