Mademoiselle

The film opens with nuns singing as they climb a hill. But any similarity with the Sound of Music stops there. Jeanne Moreau is evil incarnate. Like the ex-girlfriend that is love and light to everyone she meets. But only you know the truth! She is lovely. She is beautiful. She wanders the hillside like Aphrodite blessing the ground on which she walks. Each carefully observed detail of the countryside is there in her natural and engaging charm (and heightened by use of natural sound only). Gentle and sensitive. The sort of person everyone wants to know. Do we fall in love with her in the first few minutes? She picks up some birds' eggs and gently crushes them. What? Some mistake n'est ce pas? Did we really see that? Have you ever refused to believe an awful thing because a person 'couldn't possibly be bad'? A friend, a lover, a spouse even. Or the upstanding member of a community. A politician? The velvet glove. Kennedy - Vietnam. Gandhi - bloody Partition. Catholic Church - Spanish Inquisition. The super-spin smile. The well-meaning malice. The invincible persona of goodness. And in the dark it conceals what we refuse to believe.

Am I too harsh - all over some eggs? The water-lock she opens girlishly. The lighted cigarette by which things burn. Is it wrong of us to suspect her childlike innocence? See her soft lips! See her run to help you in need! Comfort you. Always there for those less fortunate.

Mademoiselle works as a typist at the police station and also as a schoolteacher. Both respectable jobs. She's an upstanding new member of the rural hamlet where things go mysteriously wrong. A chaste girl, of course. (Except when she's having sex – but if she doesn't get caught, does it 'count'?) She sweetly tells the children stories of Gilles de Rais. How brazen (for well-read viewers!).

Apart from the femme-fatale-in-overdrive aspect of this film, it is also visually satisfying in every possible way. Rampant open-air sex - in a thunderstorm - has never looked so good (or so convincing). Natural sound creates more atmosphere than an added soundtrack ever could. Dramatically, it has the long-drawn out obsession-tension of a Lady Chatterley (What is it with these woodcutters??) but with much more finely chiselled characters. While Moreau's poisoned chalice has similarities with her role in Diary of a Chambermaid, this Mademoiselle is altogether more accessible, more extreme, more downright nasty.

Some may find fault with the artistic overstatement. Or the fact that a cast of many nationalities has to somehow be made to gel. If you are turned off by the tone of it, you may even find it preposterous. But let it work its magic. Director Richardson is most ambitiously at his height of 'British New Wave,' and master-storymaker Jean Genet shines. Moreau is a monstrously formidable force. Mademoiselle is one of the most dedicated portrayals of female malice ever brought to screen. It is the femme fatale made real, and without any puritanical come-uppance to relegate her to the realms of noir fantasy.

David Watkin's (The Devils, Chariots of Fire, Out of Africa) dreamlike photography icily dramatises the charged eroticism. The Panavision lenses "drool" over the bodice-ripping element, the fiercely animalistic sex. Fellow director Richard Lester once described it to Steven Soderberg saying, "Mademoiselle was the most beautiful black-and-white film I have ever, ever seen . . . they were using different stocks which had different flare factors and different qualities of the way the blacks and greys played for each scene. You were choosing stock to make something look great. It was very experimental." It has also been described as, "black and white widescreen noir," making effective use of the large frame, often placing the characters right or left at the limits of our vision.

Some critics have gone as far as to suggest that Mademoiselle is demonically possessed. The other view is that it portrays the havoc caused by repressed passions, and in which the church is complicit. This latter, more reasonable view, is supported by a careful reading of the film. The hypocrisy of the clergy is also hinted at in moments of humour. "Some are called to a life of suffering," says the priest sententiously. To which the hard-working old peasant woman retorts, "You seem to forget that I make your bed!" Whatever your feelings, it does give a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Come when I whistle."

I learned about "Mademoiselle" from a "Salon" web interview with cinematographer John Bailey (see link below).

He pointed out a remarkable thing—that the film consists entirely of static wide-screen shots. No pans, no zooms, no dollying, just one immaculate, immobile shot after another. That's one reason the film, unpleasant as it may be, has a calm unsettling pace that's the opposite of today's frenetic films.

Bailey said: "...the fascinating thing about (Richardson's film) is there's not a single camera movement in the entire film...All the action happens within a static frame. This film is, like, two hours long, and it's absolutely riveting. It's so unlike anything that you would ever see now."

from Salon article www.salon.com/ent/movies/feature/2003/07/03/cinematographers

The legendary Jeanne Moreau stars as Mademoiselle, a school teacher, filled with repressed sexual urges, in a small French village. She finds ways to vent her desires, mostly through arson and other destructive acts.

Mademoiselle seems like a film that desperately wants to be profound. It seems like a film that wants to say something about repressing desires, and the insignificance of mankind against nature. For the most part, it fails. It is unclear whether Mademoiselle's violent actions are the product of sexual desire or simple sadism. She sets fires and opens floodgates, but is it a sexual urge? Not really, she just seems to get a kick out of watching the townspeople scramble to save their lives and possessions.

And while the film is directed with an interesting visual flair that does often capture the beauty of nature quite well, it never really achieves a level of Lean-esquire glory or magnificence. Sure, it's pretty to look at, but what's the point? The acting is also sorely lacking. Ettore Manni, who plays Mademoiselle's (and everyone else's) sexual interest, is just not very good. He often unleashes these boisterous laughs, and every time I cringed. It's not even a little bit convincing. Even the usually wonderful Moreau fails to impress here. Her performance just feels hollow. As she has proved in the past that she can be very good, I blame director Tony Richardson, who, unlike someone like François Truffaut or Louis Malle, clearly doesn't grasp what Moreau is capable of.

That's not to say Mademoiselle is a failure. There are several deeply disturbing moments, one in particular involving a rabbit. The film seems to be trying to say that all human beings can be monsters at times, and we take out our suppressed aggression on whatever innocence may be around us. Still, the film seems to lack a core of genuine emotional depth, and therefore, lacks resonance. It doesn't help that it tends to move along at a remarkably slow pace, which causes it to try the viewer's patience at times.

However, I would probably give Mademoiselle a mild recommendation, if for nothing besides the attractive visuals and the fact that it contains Jeanne Moreau.

Jeanne Moreau is simply brilliant in this role of a frustrated woman driven by madness to commit evil against the world. It has an ending that is wonderfully realistic and disturbing.

Jean Genet has created a world of simple people who are easily manipulated by a brilliant woman and their own fears and the results are predictable. Evil is here seen as not something grandiose and politically driven but as a simple everyday element of human nature.

The film's pace is wonderfully timed to draw you in to this strange little world that somehow feels normal. Somewhere in our subconscious mind, we know this place. I, for one, was not entirely shocked by the actions of any of the characters in this film. The evil that can result when people are not allowed either by religious authority or circumstance to express their natural sexual needs is here examined in gruesome detail.

See this film. It is brilliant.

In a small provincial village things occur, that has the occupants distressed, visibly stirred, as the floodgates are wound open, fires lit then lives are broken, beasts fall dead, leaving a vastly reduced herd. Tongues start to wag about the culprit and his reasons, the Italian who appears in summer seasons, foreigners not welcome here, we should make him disappear, but the constables maintain the laws cohesion. In the background out of sight and out of mind, there's a villain, who's quite the opposite of kind, presents herself as a school teacher, but deep down she has some features, that give her kicks, when those around her are maligned.

Left me thinking just how many people, who present as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, are actually nasty, conniving and sociopathic nutters. Jeanne Moreau performs the role with aplomb although I'm not sure this was a film that delivers quite as much as some of her other roles.