Seine Gefangene

La prisonnière was HG Clouzot's final film and his only in colour. It tells the story of a young female film editor who meets an art dealer via her relationship with an abstract artist. She discovers he photographs erotic pictures of women. Partially appalled, partially intrigued she becomes hooked on his voyeurism and becomes one of his subjects. Its story focuses on themes of submission and dominance, with all three central characters at war with one and other to some extent.

I don't think the message was necessarily altogether clear at times and I think something must have been lost over the years in terms of the shock we are meant to feel at the erotic material. From the perspective of nowadays in the free-for-all that is the internet age, those images that presumably would have caused some shock back in 1968 seem actually quite quaint by today's anything-goes standards. So you do sort of have to remind yourself that this was a very different world back then in order to understand aspects such as this. I felt on the whole that the story seemed a bit under-developed and not entirely satisfying but what certainly did not disappoint me was the visual aesthetics on display. Considering this was Clouzot's only colour movie, it does have to be said that he embraces the medium in a pretty full-on way. The use of colour is rather splendid throughout. The early gallery scenes are visually delightful with much abstract, expressionistic and pop art imagery present throughout, all beautifully framed, while the closing psychedelic hallucination sequence was a mesmerizing example of visual artistry. So, for me at least, this is a film which is mostly of interest from an aesthetic point-of-view as opposed to a dramatic one. It definitely felt like the work of a young director, as opposed to a veteran, and so indicates the boldness that Clouzot had even in his final years. It's the sort of material that someone like Claude Chabrol could easily have been tackling at the time, except Clouzot's film is visually much more out there than anything that young new wave director every delivered. On the whole, this is a pretty impressively uncompromising bit of cinema for Clouzot to bow out on and is certainly one that should be of interest for anyone interested not only in French cinema of the period but of counter-cultural time-capsule movies as well.

In France they sell this movie in a DVD-collection called The Unclassifyables. Not without reason, as it is indeed very difficult to say what this movie is exactly about. In my opinion it is an early critical comment on post modernism and deconstructivism – terms coined by French philosophers that became public property only years if not decades after this movie was made. The director sees what the world is coming to - and he does not like it. In this aspect La Prisonniere reminded me very much of Jacques Tati's movies Mon Oncle and Playtime.

Clouzot also seems to have been influenced here by Michelangelo Antonioni's movies Il Deserto Rosso and Blow-Up. Alienation and disorientation are rampant in all major characters. Apparently it is Clouzot's first movie in color - and it is one of the most impressive color movies I have seen ever. This director was always great with surfaces and textures. Here he adds undisturbed expanses of bright primary or secondary colors to his vocabulary. They are prominent in the greatest scenes, a playful chase on a beach (someone pours a bucket of red paint or blood into the water) and a climactic final scene on a rooftop in the center of Paris. In the house opposite the roof, a gigantic, heavy turn-of-the-century stone structure, all the exterior textile blinds are drawn so that it is sprinkled with tiny crimson squares. In a strange way color whenever it appears as a statement seems to mean artificiality in a negative sense, and the prime affliction of the main female character seems to be a kind of a color sickness. She goes through an interesting choice of different dresses.

I think La Prisonnière is a great artistic statement about the end of true artistic achievement. It takes the viewer to a fantasy world in which dreams and desires are bound turn into unbearable nightmares. The quick editing and ultra short insertions had other reviewers describe this movie as „psychedelic". I doubt that a psychedelic experience was what the director intended. I think he rather wanted to warn against the exaggerated input of images post modern society is subjected to. The fantastic, terrifically edited train ride of the main couple at the beginning of the movie seems to indicate as much.

Opening with the most eerie and perverse credit sequence you are ever likely to see, HG Clouzot's final film veers from claustrophobic mind games to swooning romance to 60s Pop Art psychedelia - without ever once losing the iron grip that was its director's trademark. It's Clouzot, and not the prolific but overrated Claude Chabrol, who deserves to be called 'the French Hitchcock.' Yet Clouzot, uninhibited by the demands of Hollywood 'box office,' was able to plumb depths of misanthropy and depravity that Hitch could scarcely dream of.

In La Prisonniere, he achieves the complete emotional and moral annihilation of all three protagonists. A young wife (Elisabeth Wiener) grows bored with her philandering artist husband (Bernard Fresson) and falls under the spell of a voyeuristic gallery owner (Laurent Terzieff) - who dabbles in kinky S&M photos on the side. If that sounds like a recipe for disaster...well, it is - but never quite in the ways we predict. The flamboyantly deranged Terzieff may, in fact, be the sanest character in this twisted triangle. So how crazy are the heroine and her hubby...?

Suffice it to say that, having produced an erotic and psychological thriller that outclasses any of Chabrol's more famous efforts of the late 60s, Clouzot then enters the tormented mind of his heroine - in a psychedelic 'head trip' to rival Kubrick's finale to 2001. A pity that Elisabeth Wiener (a forgotten 60s beauty in the style of Charlotte Rampling or Marianne Faithfull) never quite suggests the depths of anguish her role demands. Still, the magnificent Terzieff supplies angst enough for the whole cast. And he's not even the mad one...

David Melville

What this film lacks in substance is certainly made up for in the starling and typically 1968 visuals. The subject may be BDSM and voyeurism but the look is pure 60s kinetic and op-art. The portrayal as Stan as an obsessive photographer exploring his deeply felt notions of dominance and submission are somewhat muted by his role as art gallery owner, dealing in shimmering and revolving metallic sculptures and rightly coloured geometric shapes. Nevertheless he does a decent job of convincing and some of the photography scenes with his 'little housewife' turned adventuress and submissive are effective. The reliance on great flamboyant splashes of orange and yellow throughout encourage a smile rather than a concern and it is as if Clouzot himself is conflicted. Not the greatest film on the subject, it is certainly no Belle de Jour and despite the arty use of colour, no Blow Up, but still well worth a watch.

La Prisonniere tells the story of Stan, a man fascinated by the concept of submission and his experimentation with his own capacity to dominate. He manifests this fascination through photographing women as he instructs them to undress. When the rather conservative Jose decides she would like to pose for him she finds herself caught in a tormenting struggle between the shame and the pleasure she experiences through the act of submission. Here the film analyses the relationship between voyeur and 'viewed', which at first is hindered by her fear and instinctive prudence but later softens into mutual respect and affection. From the outset women are portrayed as sexual objects as Stan fingers his naked dolls in the opening credits in the same way as he poses his models, as if inanimate. However the images of naked women seen throughout, as well as Stan's treatment of his models, are essentially respectful and adoring rather than degrading. The extended motif of repetition, presented in the pattern and movement of the artwork, reflections in mirrors and the process of reproduction suggested by the photos and the printing press, emulate the intensity and invasiveness of Stans voyeurism. At the same time the optical illusions, played on the the gallery scenes, coupled with their emotive sound effects seem to hint at Jose's mental and emotional confusion towards her role as the servile model. The character of Stan is overtly sexual in his masculinity, authority and seemingly in his mere presence as he appears to cause Maguy to climax during her photo shoot. While he is tender and genuine in his love for Jose, he remains dominant and in control by not letting on to her. I found this film beautiful to watch despite its disturbing subject matter and I believe it is an emotive representation of how women can be tortured as well as gratified through both their sexual oppression and freedom.