La ronde

I first saw La Ronde in 1950, at an art theatre, when I was completely caught up in the concept and progression of scenes, but only a novice at critical analysis. Consequently, it was one of the first (Beta) videotapes in my collection.I viewed it again last night, for only the second time. I can understand the reactions of those, especially contemporary viewers who expect romantic scenes to be more explicit. (The French were doing that very well long before Hollywood, so the lack in this film does not result from reticence.) Yet after 53 years the film has lost little of its charm for me: (I notice that older viewers tended to rate La Ronde higher than those who are younger.) The linking device came from Schnitzler, not from the film scripter, so could hardly have been avoided, and the segments varied in quality. It seems that the actors did not take the film or themselves too seriously, which was quite appropriate. I recall that the only full-screen close-up came at the end, with Signoret as the prostitute. Was that a final comment on love itself: always exploitative and transitory; as seen in each scene, to a greater or lesser extent.

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.

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

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.

La Ronde is one of my favourite French films, I can't watch it too often as it has its faults but it hasn't failed to enchant me each time so far. Max Ophuls certainly had an elegant style about him, see Le Plaisir and Madame de .. for further evidence. He re-created Vienna 1903 seemingly effortlessly in this, and even with Anton Walbrook continually talking to the camera and a film set deliberately momentarily on display it's pretty convincing. The attention to period detail was knockout, done as only Ophuls knew how. It can still be done nowadays but lacking one vital ingredient: an atmosphere, a feel for the time and place that came with nitrate film stock. Modern films can look as sumptuous in their set and costume design even in todays colour, but nearly all fail to generate an atmosphere because modern film stock plays too realistic - and it ain't going to get any better with digital no-film-at-all!

The Austrian Anton Walbrook was a multi-linguist, his sinister sibilant English in Gaslight was perfect, in Colonel Blimp perfectly resigned as a defeated and baffled non-Nazi German soldier. He spoke a few gorgeous words in French in La Ronde and was then promptly dubbed for the rest of the movie. Maybe he couldn't sing, but why did they jettison such a lovely speaking voice as well?

The conventional hypocrisy of sexually cheating on your (straight?!) partner in secret is repeatedly portrayed, as well as the notion that casual sexual gratification is usually desired by both sexes of both classes and as fast as possible. These lovers of sex move on: familiarity breeds contempt - once you've come it's time to go! This sex (not love) merry-go-round is one reason why there are 6 billion people on Earth today! But I definitely don't agree with the previous comment that Ophuls' version of La Ronde was about the spread of STD even though the original play had it as a major theme. Ophuls was all about Pleasure, not Pain - any syphilitic transmission was left to the imagination here. Walbrook waxes wistfully cynical throughout this beautiful film - he wouldn't change a thing about Life and Sex if he could. I'm happily forced to watch this film with amused sadness from his point of view, and wouldn't change a thing about it even if I could.