La ronda

Vienna 1900. But actually a film studio in France. Ophuls never lets you forget that. This masterwork is deeply concerned with truth and illusion. In love and in art, in the art of love. It is charming whilst showing you the limitations of charm, seductive whilst demonstrating the hazards of seduction. Great as it is, it probably is not the peak of the director's achievement: LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN, MADAME DE... and LOLA MONTES probably have better claims to that accolade. But the rare weak moments do not, in my view, detract from LA RONDE's status as a masterpiece, since over all its quality is so high. It boasts a dazzling cast, led by wonderful Anton Walbrook, and a theme tune by Oskar Straus that will follow you around for the rest of your life.

My very first Ophüls film, a breezy studio-bound adaption of Arthur Schnitzler's play "Reigen", set in the 1980s in Vienna (yes, I'm freshly returning from a one-week vacation in Vienna). Structurally, LA RONDE adheres firmly to the play's ten liaisons, each stars one pair of its 10 characters in a sequential order, starts with the whore (Signoret) and the solider (Reggiani), then the soldier and the housemaid (Simon), the housemaid and the young gentleman (Gélin), and so forth until it finishes with the Count (Philipe) and the whore, thus consummates "la ronde".

One prominent change is that Ophüls introduces an all-knowing raconteur (Walbrook), who is quite omnipresent, not only shepherds viewers into each story, but takes on minor roles whenever transition from one scene to another is needed as well, Walbrook is vivacious and stylish as the master of ceremonies, croons the theme strain from time to time, slyly breaks the fourth wall or intervenes in the happenings occasionally; whereas the sundry characters are primarily driven by their desire and impulsion regardless of their identities, each is equally allotted a fifteen-minute or so screen time divided into two parts with two different opposite-sex, like the merry-go-round in the background, they flirt, seduce, debate, banter and having sex (off-screen) in the most casual fashion, when they put on their clothes again, no string is attached, they can continue a small talk like friends or just move on to the next chapter without hesitation. It is the quintessential of cinematic operetta doesn't impose on lecturing viewers, only to divert, to flirt, to vivify the atmosphere and to evince the Franco-philosophy of c'est la vie!

Essentially the film is a star-studded celebrity parade, household names like Signoret, Simon, Darrieux, Miranda and Philipe etc. are indisputably in their most magnificent form although none of them is given too much fodder to capitalise on, it is all the same, for cinephiles alone, an eye-opening feast to worship, thanks to the fluid camera-work and the florid production exclusively set inside the studio, it is an escapist's utter pleasure to accommodate oneself to a sumptuous period where everything looks so nostalgically charming and beguilingly narcissistic, so we can all be free and easy, at least for 97-minutes.

Through a series of dove-tailing love vignettes, Max Ophüls offers us an enchanting film replete with some of the greatest acting talent French cinema has known. The brevity of the individual segments of the film does not greatly impair the quality of the characterisation or acting performance, and there are some very impressive moments, particularly the scenes with Jean-Louis Barrault (best know for his role in Les Enfants du Paradis) and Simone Signoret (Les Diaboliques and Casque d'Or).

The film is surprisingly - for a film of its age - pretty explicit about the sexual proclivities of the aristocracy and military men. That a respectable middle-aged married woman should seek an amorous adventure with a man half her age, whilst her wealthy husband carries on with a young woman barely out of her teens most probably caused a few raised eyebrows when the film was released in 1950 - particularly when the film is very much in the velvet-lined mould of the traditional pre-war French romantic film.

The most impressive aspect of the film, above the great acting and splendid direction, is its humour. This is a film that is unable to take itself seriously. The mysterious raconteur (superbly played by Anton Walbrook) endeavours to keep the merry-go-round of love happily on its course, but has a few technical problems on the way. It's reassuring to know that even all-knowing deities have their off-days.

Another strong point is Oscar Straus's musical score, particularly the raconteur's merry-go-round ballad which accompanies the film throughout, not unlike the cheery music of a real merry-go-round in a fairground.

This has all the ingredients of a great film. It is a fanciful waltz across the ephemeral ballroom of love, and it succeeds admirably.

This seems a little old fashioned even allowing for it's period setting. Perhaps it's the reluctance of the director to go beyond even the merest suggestion of congress that gives it an air of something made in the late thirties or forties. It certainly has charm though and Ophul's cameras twirl and glide like the carousel itself. Always looking sumptuous (perhaps it shouldn't) and always light-hearted (perhaps it should be more serious) it is a pleasant enough viewing. Oscar Strauss' music helps enormously and is in complete harmony with the visuals. Simon Signoret as the prostitute, seen at the start and finish is exemplary and Simone Simon shines most brightly as the seductive maid.

I've just read all the previous comments on this and I'm surprised that none of them apparently grasped that the main thrust of the plot was the passing of venereal disease from one character to another. It's not just coincidence that the first coupling is between a prostitute and a soldier - prostitutes traditionally work near army barracks and are, or arguably were in 1900, more likely to be carriers of venereal disease than most other women simply because by definition they had sex with more men than the average woman, married or single, in 1900. The vastly overrated semi-Amateur film maker Jean-Luc Godard dismissed both the film and one of France's leading actors (Gerard Philippe) with the words 'France's worst actor in France's worst film', which in itself should be sufficient to send all intelligent people flocking to see La Ronde. It is, of course, dated. It has to be, it was made 54 years ago yet it still retains that quality that has always eluded and will always elude Godard, Style. What if not stylish should we call it when our self-appointed narrator, Anton Walbrook, discards his slightly down-market raincoat and dons an opera cape to lead us to a sleazy quarter of Vienna and make us privy to the initial sexual encounter, the first, of course, of many, between prostitute Simone Signoret and soldier Serge Reggiani (soon to play similar roles in Jacques Becker's 'Casque d'Or') and provide the first 'take' on love/sex which is indifference; even when Signoret is prepared to waive her fee Reggiani disdains free sex on the grounds that her room is a ten minute walk from where they met and only reluctantly does he finally agree to an al fresco coupling from which he hurries away with barely a 'thank you', let alone a cigarette. Cynicism is still rampant in the next encounter in which Regginani seduces Simone Simon's comely housemaid then hurries back to the dance where they had met. Cynicism of a different sort informs the next encounter when the young man of the house (Daniel Gelin) where Simon is employed practices his seduction technique on her before attempting it with the real thing in the shape of older, married Danielle Darrieux. This episode, together with its successor (Darrieux and her husband, Fernand Gravey) serves as a filmic equivalent of an interval in a theatre (the film is based, as is widely known, on a play by Viennese playwright Artur Schnitzler)and Gelin's initial impotence is metaphored subtly (for 1950) by the breaking down of the roundabout which allows Ophuls to cut away to Walbrook in mechanic mode and then back to a now successful Gelin consummating his infatuation for Darrieux. And so it goes on, brief encounters, longer liaisons, just like life in fact. Virtually all of the cast had or would appear in classic films, not least Jean-Pierre Barrault, so memorable in 'Les Enfants du Paradis', Gerard Philippe, the original 'Fanfan le Tulipe' with 'Les Orgueillex' still to come, Serge Reggiani, a veteran of 'Les Portes de la Nuit', laughed off the screen in 1946 and now regarded rightly as a masterpiece, and so on, arguably only Isa Miranda as the actress let the side down. All in all a triumph. 8/10