Pläsier

Happiness, says the narrator at the end, is not a lark. And the film believes it, even though as he speaks the glimpses of children playing with kites and daintily placed chairs on the beach (echoing those set out earlier by Gabin in the back of his cart for the visiting prostitutes) continue to evoke the swirling compositional grace and elegance which mark the film's every moment. Far more unpredictable and radical than most portmanteau films, the highlight is the second story, which at first seems to be about a group of men who get together one night when the local brothel is closed, then follows the whores' trip to the country (with a delightful interlude on the train as they share the compartment with an old peasant couple and a randy salesman); then returns to the brothel - Ophuls' highly liberal camera ultimately pans deliriously around the windows from the outside as the place fills with dance, spilling celebration and delight. The many surprises of that story perfectly evoke the enormous span of human emotional experience; it touches on so many dreams of escape whereas the other two episodes, both much shorter and darker, remind us of the occasional price of such dreams.

Max Ophuls is rightly regarded as a major filmmaker and this is a major work. If you'd heard of his fluid camera-work but hadn't seen a film bearing his signature this film would illustrate perfectly what people mean by his fluid camera-work. In 1952 the portmanteau film was hardly new; in England we had seen both Quartet and Trio (a joke in the early fifties had two hippies walking down Broadway and passing in turn cinemas where these titles were playing: One says 'Man, we better dig this crazy combo, it's fading fast') followed by Encore, all featuring short stories by Somerset Maugham but it's fair to say that all three lacked the visual style and sheer sumptuousness that Ophuls brings to DeMaupassant. Framed by The Mask and The Model the piece de resistance is The House of Madame Tellier, a four-reel examination of the role of the bordel in the provincial town - when they close for a day the whole sub-social life of the town is disturbed. If the lion's share of the plaudits go to the middle segment the others have more than their own individual moments and staples of French cinema like Jean Gabin, Danielle Darrieux and Simone Simon get to strut their stuff and pay their dues. A visual delight.

In the early 80's, as a young movie lover, my favorite was "le Plaisir" directed by Max Ophüls. And at that time, it was quite hard to have vidéo cassettes of such masterpieces, I found the cassette and watched "Le Plaisir" so many times showing it to everybody around me, the movie in fact I showed the most. We just loved "La Maison Tellier" with Gabin (so funny as a peasant searching for a love affair with Danièle Darrieux, unforgettable), every scene was perfect. And shot by master Christian Matras. The two other sketches are also great, especially the one with Simone Simon. Thank you Mr Ophüls for that true masterpiece.

"Le plaisir" presents three stories by Guy de Mauppasant. A more precise title would be "le plaisir de l'homme" because in all the stories men are the weak gender, unable to control their instincts.

A suitable subtitle would be "les réactions des femmes". The reactions differ from resignation (first story) to acceptance (second story) to resistance (third story).

In none of the stories a moral judgement is made, but the first and the last are more tragic while the middle one contains comedy elements. Because the middle one is also the biggest (longest) story, in one review the comparison with a religious triptych from the Middle ages is made.

Let me try to make the above somewhat less abstract. The first story is tragic from the male point of view. A man with a mask attends a ball. After a while he becomes unwell. When the mask is taken off it is revealed that the man is rather old. The tragic element is that the man keeps behaving below his age. The mask however does NOT indicate that the man is ashamed of his behaviour (as is the case in "Eyes wide shut" 1999, Stanley Kubrick), it only indicates that he wants to hide his real age.

The second story has comic element. Due to a company outing, a brothel is closed for one day. The male clients become bored and start quarreling with each other. There is no shade of condemnation in this story, nor regarding the girls, nor regarding the clients. In stead the brothel is portrayed as a very useful institute, keeping the social peace.

With respect to the cinematography, the dynamic cameramovements are worth mentioning, and this in a time that the camera was not at all handheld but a heavy piece of equipment.

Once again some examples as illustration. In the first story the camera movements illustrate the hectic of the ball. At the beginning of the second story the camera circles around the brothel, peeping inside windows but staying outside the building. These movements of the camera create a somewhat voyeuristic ambiance.

Max Ophuls converts three stories by Guy de Maupassant to the screen, and links them via a narration by Peter Ustinov.

Ophuls is one of those directors whose works I admire rather than enjoy. Sometimes I think that's his intention. His taste for formalism, whether it be a Schnitzler play he wishes to film, or his insistence on loading on every camera trick he can think of, as here, seems designed to call for comment by the attentive and cinematic viewer.... one might almost say 'voyeur.'

Perhaps that's Ophuls' intention: to make the audience think they're not watching a story, but spying on reality. Me, when I think it's a great story and great actors, as here, I would use the minimum artistry to tell the story; why paint the beautiful lily or gild refined gold? When the first story begins with a traveling take that lasts minutes, I wonder how much longer it's going to go on, rather than enjoying the event. When he shifts repeatedly to Dutch angles, I wonder what is so odd about the perspective, and when he shoots people in a house through windows, again, I wonder what's the point.

Perhaps it is a longing for the baroque. Or perhaps it's an inferiority complex, to show people who go on about the theater that cinema is an art, too, and anything you can do, we can do better!

Me, my taste is a lot more visceral than Ophuls. He's great, mind you. It's just that I appreciate him with my head and not my heart.