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.

"La Ronde" is the cinematic equivalent of a short story collection in which affairs of the heart are the central theme and one character from each story plays a part in the next. Almost by definition, movies like this feel less satisfying to me, because no one story is ever allowed to build to any kind of dramatic conclusion, but "La Ronde" is a pretty good example of the genre.

I don't know that the film (which was based on a stage play) has much to say about love beyond generic platitudes, but it boasts some lovely little performances, especially by Danielle Darrieux, who would go on to captivate me a few years later in another and far superior Max Ophuls film, "The Earrings of Madame de...", and Simone Signoret, who plays a weary prostitute. The true star of the picture, however, is the production design, which alone makes the film worth watching. It looks sumptuous, and the camera glides around the spaces as smoothly and gracefully as the carousel that serves as a recurring visual motif in the film.

"La Ronde" was deservedly nominated for a Best Art Direction Oscar in the black and white category, and Max Ophuls and writing partner Jacques Natanson were nominated for adapting its screenplay.

Grade: B+

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.

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.

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