Madame de...

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.

Max Ophuls' masterwork, "Madame de . . ." retains its haunting beauty, with memorable performances, photography, and direction. The tracking shots are remarkable, as is the quality of the overall production. Charles Boyer heads a distinguished cast that works like a finely tuned string trio. A genuine film classic.

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

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.

What an elegant and atmospheric overlooked gem this was from Max Ophuls! Depicting in his usual florid and incredibly detailed style the lives and loves of various stereotypical characters from fin de siecle Paris, when the rich supposedly had taste and grace - before us poor diluted them.

Instead of watching people on the metaphorical merry-go-round of love as we did in La Ronde or a merry-go-round of stories as we did in Le Plaisir, this time we watch a souvenir of love, a pair of earrings on their travels back and forth between lovers and the same jeweller. The mature lovers were staid Charles Boyer, coquettish Dannielle Darrieux and romantic Vittorio De Sica engaged at first in playful flirtation but naturally turning into something far more serious: love. You are left at the end to extrapolate the outcome for yourselves, but I doubt they went on as Three! All 3 roles were played with beautiful restraint, De Sica especially, coming so soon after Umberto D's overwhelmingly serious message was ignored.

The roving camera-work paying loving attention to the period background sets was sublime, and as can only be found in Ophuls' best 6 films – this is how he would have made the film in 1900! The perfectly timed choreography for the dancing scenes of course extended to nearly everything else, even to things as simple as opening and shutting mirrored wardrobes in Madame de … 's gorgeously cluttered bedroom or people climbing up or down a rickety wooden spiral staircase at the jewellers. All in all, marvellous entertainment ravishing to the eyes, of a type you won't see anywhere outside of Ophuls. In fact, words have failed me.