Quatre nuits d'un rêveur

Revered for his minimalist approach to cinema, writer-director Robert Bresson shows an unerring artistic eye for his surroundings in this French-Italian co-production (in French with English subtitles); however, he stumbles with this pallid script (inspired by Dostoyevsky's short story "White Nights") about two young people in Paris. It's a flashback-heavy non-romance between a starving artist and a suicidal girl. After stopping her from leaping from a bridge, the painter finds himself drawn to the girl during an intimate conversation wherein they reveal to each other their past and present regrets (she's still pining for her fickle lover). Bresson and cinematographer Pierre Lhomme do capture lyrical, lazy bits of business--and sensual, though not particularly erotic, female nudes. Unfortunately, the characters never take shape, and the amateur actors (a Bresson specialty) aren't compelling. ** from ****

Of all Bresson's movies, it is the only one that can be easily avoided. Completists only should worry about it.

Given the brilliance of former and further scenarios, this one is inexplicably bland. The main character is dull, aloof when he's supposed to be giving all he has. The heroine is unwatchable- we'll find her later in Eustache's masterpiece "The mother and the whore". The "other guy" who we get to see in the end is just a face in the crowd.

The story in itself is quite of some interest, although the shooting, editing and worst of all clothing makes us wish we were never born. Insects in a distance, the heroes do their thing which appears aimless if not whimsical.

Whoever wishes to see an honest interpretation of the same story will turn with profits to Visconti's "White nights". Use your energy for all other Bresson's movies, forget this one. A shame.

I saw this film twice with Japanese subtitles. Tonight I saw a print (and very different version) with English subtitles.

In this film, Bresson makes everyday life beautiful.... the lights on the river, the Brazilian music coming from a beautifully lighted tour boat going under the bridge the lovers are on... The story is small... An aimless artist prevents a woman from suicide and listens to her story and tries to help her reunite with her lover. This story seems to be seen through a dark filter of the beauty of Paris and its people.

A scene where the heroine is making love in the next room while her mother is walking back and forth calling her name, not realizing that her daughter is right next door... Her voice gets louder and softer and louder...

The scene with the aimless artist following one beautiful woman, only to be distracted by another beautiful woman whom he then follows....

There are many small beauties in this film. And my telling you about them will only make you anticipate them with pleasure.

Bresson, working with a minor little story has created a film of great beauty. Good luck finding it....I was fortunate enough to see it at a theater twice, where the beauty of the scenery could be appreciated. For some reason, it is not out in video or DVD. The DVD I saw probably had the photographer setting up his camera in the dark theater... and shooting at the screen!

My Rating : 6/10

Minimalist, inconsequential and bland - that's how I would describe 'Four Nights of a Dreamer'.

Bresson's typical ascetic approach to cinematography is no doubt visible however it fails to make any impact on this viewer.

The aimless artist meets a damsel in distress is cinematic cliche and while there are bits of 1970's life and society of France - the lack of emotion makes the story ineffective and dispassionate.

No doubt the worst film-work of all of Bresson's stellar filmography.

From all the Bressons I've seen this week, this one is the hardest to describe. I liked a lot, but I don't exactly know what it was that I liked. The film, taking place mostly at night in the streets and on the bridges of Paris is somewhere in between the typical lethargy and an a-typical hysteria and is about utterly lonely people that meet up with people who are even lonelier. It's fascinating to look how those change directions all the time, interrupt actions to start a completely different one, jump from one anecdote to another. It's a fascinating jumble; you never know what is going to happen next and very similar to Cassavetes' Shadows (which I tend to like more).