La gueule ouverte

Maurice Pialat's The Mouth Agape is a film about death and everything that surrounds it from diagnosis to burial. It's a film that also explores how it effects everyone close to the central character Monique whose dying from terminal liver failure.

The Mouth Agape shares the same subject matter with Ingmar Bergman's Cries and Whispers which came out a couple of years earlier. I like to think of this film as the Yin to Cries and Whispers Yang. Stripping away the melodrama and heightened sensibility that was prevalent in the cinematography of Bergman's film. Pialat directs this film with a cold, detached nuance. His methodical almost clinical approach to illness and death delivers a striking viewing experience.

Unfortunately any plot developments that splintered off from the main story surrounding Monique became slightly dull, and had me wanting the film to focus back on her. Also I didn't find myself as engaged with the characters unlike Cries and Whispers. Every actor gives a good performance, but they didn't have much of an emotional impact on the story.

Whilst the film didn't leave with the same visceral gut punch that Cries and Whispers did. Watching Monique's disease slowly consume her through the duration of the film left an impact worthy of recommending this film to those that haven't seen it.

This is a sad film with beautiful photography and some haunting music. It deals, graphically and unflinchingly, with the gradual death of a woman. Both the male characters (her husband and son) are portrayed as unsympathetic and incorrigible philanderers. The son (Philippe, played by Philippe Leotard) is married to a strikingly attractive woman (played by Nathalie Baye) yet he still cheats on her. Incidentally the cast list on IMDb seems to credit two different women as playing the part of Corinne, one of the women with whom Philippe goes to bed. The actress playing this part is in fact the strikingly attractive Marie-Blanche Dehaux, and she gives a good cameo performance. The film is an interesting reminder of the fashions in 1974, and is also a reminder of the casual racism and anti-immigrant prejudice which was apparently normal in rural France at that time.

I won't give anything away by saying this is about the reactions of the close relatives of a woman who is dying. It is a stunning, absorbing and beautiful study of these people, and I was totally entranced, I would have been happy for it to be twice as long. The emotions portrayed were so honest, with no hint of gloss or sentimentality. The human condition has never been better-portrayed.

This was appalling and irksome to watch.

It is very possible to be appalling and irksome, yet still either entertaining or interesting.

Barring these two bare minimums, an otherwise discomfiting film needs to be able to evoke emotion in the audience; to get us to care or sympathize with the characters.

Maurice Pialat did not do any of the above with this film. Difficult to even care about the dying woman, whom could be the victim by some perspectives. Victim of some tragic circumstances in her terminal illness, but perhaps as bad, in the form of her callous son and seemingly heartless, philandering and remorseless husband.

Realism is an admirable trait in any art production and storytelling, yes. Portraying death, dying, and complicated familial bonds with unsentimental, uncompromising raw honesty is indeed something to be applauded. But when the film is unable to successfully garner interest or investment, even in the form of cheap laughs or morbid fascination, this means little.

The film makes a noble attempt at redemption in the final moments, but it was too little, too late. Barely believable, after the characters acted the way they did for so long, with no sign of understanding the pain they were causing, nor any shame or intention to change. Quite a pity, because that penultimate tracking shot, zooming out of the family's now emptier than ever lives, could have made an A+ clip with a plaintive accompanying soundtrack!

The last picture:Philippe Leotard and Natalie Baye are leaving home behind.He drives at a dizzying speed.Then the father,alone in his deserted house,turns off the light.

The young couple thinks he can escape:it's not pleasant to stay in a house where one of your folks has just died.But actually,it's their OWN death which they fear ... Death is no more an abstract word (which concerns the others),it's something certain.

"La Gueule Ouverte" is Pialat's "Cries and Whispers" (both his film and Bergman's were released at about the same time).But "La Gueule Ouverte" is devoid of aestheticism: directing is icily remote,music is completely absent (with the exception of the scene when Monique Melinand is listening to Mozart's "Cosi Fan Tutte" ),no embellishment; nothing is spared the audience and the fact that such a harrowing screenplay succeeds artistically without falling into the trap of vulgarity or/and sentiment is entirely due to Pialat's natural feeling for economy and sparseness which preclude all forms of conventional sentimentality.

His characters are despicable persons,with the eventual exception of the mother who seems more educated (Pialat seems to indicate she must have suffered from the meanness of her family: the father and the son play around ,even when she is about to die ,the daughter-in-law tries and tries to show some compassion but she's finally completely indifferent.

Nothing was spared the audience indeed .The dying woman 's unbearable breathing -and the scene lasts three interminable minutes- ,the body placed in the coffin, the old man crying his heart out...

My two favorite Pialat movies are this one and "L'Enfance Nue" .The latter deals with the beginning of life ,of a harsh life whilst the former depicts an inhuman death.