Madame de... - Die Liebe ihres Lebens

The most striking element of this film is the way in which the camera maintains such a fluid and sensitive movement, creating a sense of frustrated distance between the action within the film and those viewing it. The opening sequence introduces us to this technique, as we follow the search of the Countess through her dressing table, and gradually are shown the reflection of her face in the mirror. Throughout the film there are numerous long, fluid shots, often following a character physically through a series of situations and sets. The camera acts as a totally impartial observer, moving amongst the set and often being placed so as to appear to hinder a clear view of the action. However, the complicated and intricate relationship between the position of the camera and that of the character it follows is a vital stylistic element. We are distanced from the action, and yet also have an intimate relationship with it; the fact that the camera often has to retrace its steps in order to follow the character presents a spontaneous, realistic image.

More importantly perhaps is the continuity that this camera technique gives the film. The film charts the flow of a series of events that are all caused ultimately by one single event. Visually, the flow of images is indicative of the inevitability of the series of events, and aurally the fact that much of the music that we hear in the film is in fact from within the action, such as the dance and the theater, suggest again continuity and unity, as well as immediacy.

It strains the imagination and saddens the heart to wonder at the existence of those people, long past, who would strive for such a sublime accomplishment.

"It's when we've the most to say that we're silent"

The dramatic situations develop so that we feel every word the characters leave unsaid. The situation speaks, and then the characters comment cleverly, explain themselves to their best advantage in that momentary sparkle that is "life"

The relationship of the director to his characters: they are allowed to be witty, to be beautiful, profound, and deeply human, yet in this humanity is their futility, a charming futility. As in the classics, The passions rule all humans. The characters are as puppets, not to the director, but to the passions.

The camera moves, yes, and you may have heard of Ophuls' flowing camera. It is not empty style, but dynamism, concision, and, more importantly, the flow of life that is his moving camera. It is the flowing movement of Ovid's Metamorphoses, the inexorable flow of life. The camera doesn't so much follow the actors, but that the flow of life is happening, and the characters are swimming in that stream of happening.

Why does he persistenly show the characters through a pain of glass? These are the boundaries of social propriety, the confines of their situation. Ophuls knew it best: life is a movie

Vladimir Nabokov wrote a short story entitled "La Veneziana"... Have I strayed from the subject? But, aren't all things sublime closely related?

I have learned, through persistent trial, that '98 is a fine year for Rhone. I suggest that you open a bottle, pour a glass, and push "Play" on "The Earrings Of Madame De..."

"unhappiness is an invented thing"

grace

I keep wondering where these amazing treasures, such as "The Earrings of Madame De..." have been all my life. This 1953 Max Ophuls film is magnificent in every respect - direction, acting, script, photography, with just the right touch of humor for what is, in essence, a tragic love story.

It is 19th Century France. Danielle Darrieux is "Comtesse Louise De..." who in the beginning of the film sells a pair of heart-shaped earrings given to her by her husband, General Andre De... (Charles Boyer), as she has some expenses that she must meet. She trusts the jeweler's confidentiality. During a production of "Orfeo e Euridice," she announces to Andre that she's left her earrings somewhere. However, the jeweler tells Andre about the sale; Andre buys back the earrings and gives them to his girlfriend, whom he's dumping. When she needs gambling money, she sells them, and they are purchased by Baron Donati (Vittorio di Sica) as a gift for his new girlfriend - the Comtesse Louise! The earrings are a symbol of fate, the volatility of love, and the meaning of possession. The General is a possessive man, but he wants to have his cake and eat it, too, presenting these beautiful earrings to two women. The Comtesse doesn't want the earrings when they're from her husband; when they're from her lover, she's desperate to find a way that she can wear them and resorts to manipulation in order to do so. For Donati, they're a symbol of romantic love, but when he realizes that his beloved is flesh and blood and not totally truthful, he becomes disillusioned.

All of this is done with looks, a word, a suggestion, a dance, the placement of furniture (the General and Comtesse sleep in the same room, miles apart) - nothing too overt. The delicacy and subtlety of the film is magical.

The beautiful Danielle Darrieux, now 92 and with a film coming out next year, does a beautiful job as the flirtatious Louise, who becomes more involved than she planned - she goes from flirty to passionate and finally to desperate. DeSica is a handsome and charming suitor; and Boyer has just the right amount of edge on his performance. He's not the monster of "Gaslight," but an authoritative Frenchman who doesn't want a scandal and becomes annoyed when he sees that his wife's romance has gone a little too far.

With its fluid photography, pace, and romance, "The Earrings of Madame de..." is a true gem. No other way to describe it.

Unlike Letter From an Unknown Woman, the only other film by Ophuls that i have seen, this one doesn't have much emotion, and it's harder to like the characters (for me, at least). Probably because of that, the title character is not as interesting as she could be; the men, whoever, are, probably more due to the great performances by Charles Boyer and the maverick director Vittorio de Sica. But any problems are forgivable due to the irreproachable costumes and art direction, the marvelous cinematography, and the very elaborate and rich camera work. It's the most beautiful film to look at that i have seen in a long time. Stanley Kubrick (like he said himself) owns much of his visual style to the German filmmaker. It's one of those unforgettable films, not because of the performers, or the plot, or the message, but the images; Vittorio de Sica and Danielle Darrieux dancing elegantly through the nights of Paris is one of the most remarkable moments in the history of cinema.

Call me a pessimist, but the ending of Madame De doesn't spell too much in the way of happiness for any of the characters, even if what one might think as the worst possible scenario didn't happen. Max Ophuls, with his brilliant film The Earrings of Madame De, doesn't allow the usual catharsis that one might expect from a romantic drama of this sort, where infidelity is merely implied and the veneer of early 20th century bourgeois is a cover for a feelings that rarely get in view. Instead, as with the rest of the film, we're given something of a wonderful contradiction, where something is compelling and graceful, but in a sort of dark way too. The doomed love of the film is one where the simple act of admitting love is a tough thing to do, and at the same time this doom is contrasted by a very swift, effortlessly moving camera, which goes around its characters trying to get us completely immersed in this world while feeling at the same time something isn't quite right. Why shouldn't Louise get what she really would want? Well, then the movie would be over pretty quickly.

Instead Ophuls makes Madame De (Danielle Darrieux) a character who goes through a radical transformation: she starts off being careless with how she possesses things, her objects, as she goes randomly in a 'whatever' mode at the start through her possessions, getting ready to go out in the town. She sells off her precious earrings, given as a wedding present, just because, not for any really serious reason. This leads to an amusing trail of sort of a mini-movie, where we see the trail of the earrings: she puts up her cover-story that she lost the earrings while at a show, and despite all ill-fated efforts they can't be found. But, the original seller notifies the Général André de (Charles Boyer, the perfect presence for this role), and he decides to not tell his wife he found them, and instead passes them off to his mistress, who is leaving him to Constantinople. Cut to after she loses them in a gambling frenzy, and it winds up at a pawn shop, and soon after in Baron Donati's hands (Vittorio De Sica, handsome as ever, and with some depth to his soul too). Donati, of course, soon ends up in the life of Madame De at first as a simple diplomat, and then dancing with her every night, and then finally the two barely can stand being away from one another. And what about the earrings?

The love-triangle, of what is there and what isn't for the three of them, is made all the more exceptional here due to two major things really: the performances being as precise to a certain style that Ophuls is after, where there is a total understanding to what is going on but a serious attitude to what the characters are going through, and Ophuls as the director. For the latter, let it be said that this is arguably one of the best directed films not only of the 50s but to come out of France in general. Ophuls puts so many small touches in his pacing and timing of scenes, of how he lets little amusements enter his cheerful atmosphere, especially in the first half. Like the boy who has to keep going back up the stairs to fetch things for his jewel-dealer father, or when the General is looking around for the earrings and the soldiers have to keep getting up, or, of course, the dancing scenes between Donati and Louise, where the tracking shots and the dissolves merge together, and the storytelling becomes completely enriched by this combination of methods.

And Ophuls, to be sure, knows how to make this 19th century upper-class European sentiment genuine through details like how far apart the General and his wife sleep at their beds (not even in the same room), and what is never said outright or expressed makes what is felt all the more powerful. Louise, as seen through the talented Darrieux, is one who suddenly finds from what was previously a fairly basic and comfortable existence in the General's quarters- very rich quarters- to be very constricting and cold when compared to what Donati has to offer. I also liked a lot how Boyer doesn't make General Andre a completely unsympathetic villain either- he's a guy who, sort of like Louise, doesn't know how to cope with possessiveness, and sees his protective shield he's put around Louise from the world as something good for her. And the earrings, which come back to her from Donati, represent all that is possible in loving or not loving someone, with just a reminder being enough. Likewise, there's the aspect of Donati lacking the possessive qualities of his counterparts, but puts him at a disadvantage to be anything more than an incredibly charming facade, in a sense, of what could be.

So there was a lot I left pondering after the Earrings of Madame de, but it was mostly all in the context of this not really being very paunchy or pretentious, but a very exquisite presentation of the tragedy of real love for the privileged in this world. It's very entertaining as well, and I was surprised to see how many times I or someone in the theater had a chuckle (i.e. the running-gag of the jewelry-dealer popping up) when watching the film. And on top of Ophuls incredible visual prowess, the musical score is unforgettable, as I was whistling all those wonderful melodies and suites long after the film ended. Though the Earrings of Madame De is a little hard to find, unless if re-released or through obscure video channels, it's well worth it to see how far a filmmaker can go to revealing the crushing, vulnerable layers underneath the superficial surfaces. Plus, it's a great way to get introduced to Ophuls's unique style.