La maman et la putain

Unfortunately, Jean Eustache (1938-1981) belongs like so many once leading French film makers nowadays to the great unknown ones whose movies are hard to find and are not released on international DVDs. Since we have a good old-fashioned video-store in Tucson, I had the chance to watch this 3 1/2-hour marathon masterwork that is not boring for ten seconds.

Since we speak here about one of the most discussed (and most controversially discussed) movies of all times, let me tell you my impression that the endless dialogs, originally typical for the early "Nouvelle Vague" of a Jacques Rivette or Alain Resnais appear almost ridiculous in this movie. The dialogs are basically monologues, mainly the longest ones spoken by Jean-Pierre Léaud. The most characteristic feature is that the intersections of the speeches of two people is almost zero. Léaud, or his character, Alexandre, pleases to tell more about himself than about the topics he is seemingly to speak. Therefore, one can hardly speak about communication in this movie. It is well possible that the director had a gargantuan satire in mind against the idle running of the once so hotly discussed political and sociological ideas, but the type of man Alexandre exists to all times, we find him already in Petron's "Satiricon", which work has actually great resemblance with "The Mother and the Whore".

Alexandre does not only nothing, but he has developed an own kind of metaphysics about the absence of acting, at least acting in the sense of responsibility toward the society whose part he is. He mocks at the people who run to work at 7 c'clock in the morning, when he is just busy having his last drink before he goes to bed in the apartment of one of his girlfriends from whose money he lives. He is unable to speak one sentence without quoting one of the leading thinkers between Nietzsche and Bernanos. Especially Sartre who is shown quickly in the French intellectual café "Aux Deux Magots", where Alexandre, too, is sitting all day, must serve as excuse for the life-style of Alexandre and his colleagues, because they suffer existential crisis from bourgeois nausea. However, the intellectual speeches of Alexandre seem to be rather pseudo-intellectual, and the sentences and quips he cites seem to come rather from a dictionary of quotations than from his actual reading of the respective books.

It is true: This movie demands an extremely broad European knowledge, especially the connoisseurship of French existentialist philosophy and there consequences to the 68 student revolution movement, but if you have this knowledge, than you will enjoy 215 minutes of your life by staring amazed into the TV and crying out with laughing like you have probably not done it since a long time.

I put off reviewing it for quite a while; I just couldn't come to terms with its rejection of the New Wave. Eustache has given us the talkiest movie ever, if you except those marathon Rivette films from the same period (I survived a showing of Out One: Spectre).

The camera doesn't move: it is parked in front of the actors in cafes and restaurants. The close camera placement forces us to concentrate on the conversations, which are monologues by Alexandre interspersed with explosions from Veronika. The romantic word-spinning from Alexandre is of this ilk: "The day I stop suffering, I'll have become someone else," or "In May 1968 a whole cafe was crying. It was beautiful. A tear gas bomb had exploded... a crack in reality had opened up," or most poetically, "I don't do anything, I let time do it." The retorts from Veronika are sometimes astonishing in their savagery: "Watch out, you'll push in my Tampax."; "I've screwed the maximum of Jews and Arabs."; (serving tea)"I like the feel of a prick against my ass, even if it's soft. One sugar or two?" It's as if a Proust character somehow left his drawing room to go slumming with a woman out of L-F Celine's Death on the Installment Plan.

This film ought to be seen by anyone interested in French film of that period--the 70's--but be aware of the static, slow-moving nature of the work.

The movie carries off the daunting challenge set by its extreme length: the first half or so is essentially a comedy of manners, with Leaud's rampant intellectualism constantly tipping over into borderline absurdity (underlined by the deadpan sketches of his friends and their wantonly do-nothing, posturing world; his manipulation of women almost masterful. But the spectrum shifts to show the psychological complexity beneath the 'whore' - in her long final monologue asserting her humanity and then traveling beyond that to assert the aridness of a relationship that doesn¹t generate children: it's as if the posturing were being ripped apart, as if everything was being reanalyzed from the most basic biology. And that reanalysis elevates the women - they both have careers whereas we¹re never sure how he finances himself; their friendship when it comes seems intuitive to an extent that he lacks, so that he's reduced to moping and grasping at opportunities. The final hour or so is an amazing topography of emotional upheaval, discovery and raw pain. An almost brilliant film that expresses the lie of the facile attitudinizing of the times and has an awesome grasp of psychological ambiguity and rawness.

One of the last classics of the French New Wave. For direction, cineaste Jean Eustache drew from the simplicity of early-century cinema; for story, Eustache drew on the torments of his own complicated love life. So many things can be said of this film - observationally brilliant; self indulgently overlong; occasionally hilarious; emotionally draining...etc. etc. In my mind, whatever complaints that can be leveled against this film are easily overshadowed by its numerous strengths. Every film student, writer, or simply anyone willing to handle a 3 hour film with no abrupt cuts, no music video overstyling, no soap opera-like plot twists, and no banal dialogue should make it a point to see this movie. Everything is to be admired: the writing (concise, clever, surprisingly funny), acting (everyone, quite simply, is perfect in their respective roles), and, simple direction (the viewer feels like a casual observer within the film) make this film unforgettable. This is undoubtedly a film that stays with you.

In Paris, the pedantic Alexandre (Jean-Pierre Léaud) lives with his mate Marie (Bernadette Lafont) in her apartment, an open relationship. Alexandre, who is idle and chauvinist, spends his days reading, drinking and shagging women. After flirting with his former affair, Gilberte (Isabelle Weingarten), who tells him that she will marry soon her boyfriend, Alexandre meets the Laenne Hospital nurse Veronika Osterwald (Françoise Lebrun) and they schedule a date. Alexandre learns that Veronika is a promiscuous woman that loves to shag and introduces her to Marie. They have a threesome and Alexandre has a crush on Veronika.

"La Maman et la Putain" is an overrated and dull French New Wave cult-movie by Jean Eustache about the sexual adventures of a pedantic chauvinist. I do not have the intention to offend the umpteen fans of this director and film, but I really did not like this long film of three and half hours. There are witty dialogs and situations, but in general I found it very dull with empty characters.

The expensive DVD released in Brazil by Lume Distributor is a shameful recording of French television broadcasting with an announcement in the credits. My vote is five.

Title (Brazil): "A Mãe e a Puta" ("The Mother and the Whore")