That curious moment in history when men were permitted to make contentious films about women, something that is less and less condoned. And perhaps, looking at Belle de Jour, one might say that it was a prime example of why this shift has happened. Does it really make sense for a male director to make a film about a beautiful woman who has perverse fantasies and decides to take up prostitution for no very good reason? Is this either plausible or praiseworthy? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that Belle de Jour is an uncomfortable watch, which might be a virtue was as well as a vice. Is this not actually a film about Freud and bourgeois manners? No-one comes out of the film looking good, from Deneuve herself to her husband to the madam who runs the very genteel brothel Deneuve decides to work for. Part of the complexity of the film arises from the fact that the director would not appear to be in the least bit interested in naturalism or psychological accuracy. Rather, he is using the story of Severine as a lens through which to gaze at the fucked up nature of desire in the civilised world, something the film undoubtably achieves. Few have had the nerve to go beyond naturalism to explore the subconscious mire of the modern mind and watching Buñuel now, albeit it feels dated in some ways, one is also made aware that when a director is willing to use cinema as a tool to prise open consciousness, it leads to the most unexpected of places.
No comments:
Post a Comment