Bella di giorno

The premise of BELLE DU JOUR is well known. A young, beautiful, and slightly frigid doctor's wife (Catherine Deneuve) secretly harbors fantasies of being dominated, humiliated, and abused by her husband (Jean Sorel.) When these fantasies can no longer be denied, she becomes a prostitute under the sponsorship of a possibly lesbian madam (Geneviève Page), working during the afternoons while her husband is at his own work. Her sexuality is awakened by the sometimes brutish clients, who soon discover that "she likes it rough," and she is ultimately caught up a relationship with a truly dangerous client (Pierre Clémenti) whose possessiveness threatens to destroy both her and her husband.

Throughout the film Deneuve slips in and out of memory and fantasy, sometimes recalling herself as a possibly molested child, sometimes imagining herself as the victim in a series of sexual assault fantasies. Director Bunuel, whose masterpiece this is, so blurs the line between memory, reality, and fantasy that by the film's conclusion one cannot be sure if some, most, or everything about the film has been Deneuve's fantasy.

Although it includes a number of impressive performances (particularly by Geneviève Page, her girls, and their clients), BELLE is essentially Deneuve's film from start to finish, and she gives an astonishing performance that cannot be easily described. Like the film itself, it is a balancing act between fantasy and a plausible reality that may actually be nothing of the kind. Bunuel presents both her and the film as a whole in an almost clinical manner, and is less interested in gaining our sympathy for the character than in presenting her as an object for intellectual observation.

Ultimately, BELLE DU JOUR seems to be about a lot of things, some of them obvious and some of them extremely subtle. And yet, given the way in which it undercuts its realities by blurring them with fantasy, it is also entirely possible that the film is not actually "about" anything except itself. Individuals who insist on clear-cut meanings and neatly wrapped conclusions will probably loathe it--but those prepared to accept the film on its own terms will find it a fascinating experience. Recommended.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

Deneuve plays Séverine Serizy, a bored middle-class woman who never slept with her handsome husband Pierre (Jean Sorel). She eventually adopts a double life on weekday afternoons as a hooker… Here she explores the depths of her desires with her amazing sexual inhibitions… Although the film resolves around her goings-on at a high-class brothel, real nudity and sex are never shown…

"Belle de Jour" may seem one of the most mysterious, poetic, and provoking films ever made… Producing a body of work unparalleled in its wealth of meaning and its ability to surprise and shock, Buñuel leads us into a new world arousing wonder and astonishment, depravity and pleasure, weird and entertaining

Catherine Deneuve is perfectly cast as an upper-class Parisian housewife who decides to spend her afternoons working in a brothel in Luis Bunuel's subversive masterpiece which proves that intimation can be just as effective as exploitation. Just about everything here--especially the shocking conclusion--is open to interpretation, from impulse to rationalization, and it's to Bunuel's genius that he is able to stand back, letting his audience fill in the gaps in their imagination and, if necessary, implicate themselves. And in Deneuve, Bunuel has found a brilliant blank canvas for the audience to express themselves upon; never fully clear on her motivations (though some tantalizing flashbacks offer hints), she alternates between classic French coldness and classic French passion and though she's intentionally unreachable, she's always fully aware of how to manipulate the spell she's cast over you. A great example of a master of cinema in deep collaboration with a master actress--their exploration of the female psyche runs the gamut of every possible emotion while never being crass or lowering themselves to merely reducing and simplifying.

The always provocative Luis Buñuel directed (and co-wrote with Jean-Claude Carrière) this adaptation of Joseph Kessel's 1928 novel, about the beautiful, apparently frigid 23 year-old wife (Catherine Deneuve) of a surgeon (Jean Sorel) who decides to live her fantasies at a brothel in the afternoons.

Here, as in several of his films, Buñuel makes a sharp, often disturbing, sometimes darkly funny, and always provocative meditation on the lifelessness of the French bourgeoisie, focusing on the boredom and private rebellion of a young woman so absorbed in her own fantasies that we don't know if what we are seeing is actually happening or only taking place in Severine's mind. Deneuve, gorgeous as ever, flawlessly plays Severine with a cold distance which is nothing short of intriguing. A character which could have easily been turned into a caricature, Deneuve makes Severine come alive in flesh and quiet desperation.

Although more discreetly than in some of his other films, here Buñuel also criticizes - with symbols, allegories, some subtler than others - the hypocrisy of the Catholic Church as an institution. His hand of surrealism, social and religious provocation make for a film that, over four decades after its release, remains strange, somewhat disturbing, and energetic. Severine is not a heroine or an activist for anything, but her rebellion is about her own deathly bourgeois condition. Prostitution here is never glamorized (even though, unlike the other prostitutes in the film, Severine is not doing it for the money - she doesn't need it); the clients are hideous-looking, quite often creepy and violent. Severine needs an escape from her suffocating life, and in her fantasies, the rougher, the better. If being a rebel is defying some sort of establishment (for whatever reason), then Severine is definitely a rebel figure; she defied not only society's moral grounds of decency (albeit slyly), but also her own inner demons. The answers to whether Severine's rebellion was worth anything is for the spectator to decide - and there lies the richness of Buñuel's surrealist creation. 10/10.

'Belle De Jour' is a movie which requires multiple viewing to fully appreciate. We live in an era of explicit sex and violence in movies are commonplace, and where we are very rarely required to think. 'Belle De Jour' is not like this. What you don't see is more important than what you do. It is a movie which needs a little effort on the viewers part. Persevere, you will be rewarded.

The basic plot is easy to understand. Severine (Catherine Deneuve in a superbly understated performance) is a beautiful, sexually repressed young bride. Her husband Pierre (Jean Sorel) adores her, but their marriage remains chaste. Severine suffers from dreams and hallucinations of debasement. She eventually is employed in a brothel during the day under a pseudonym, while continuing to live a bourgeois life with her unsuspecting husband. I won't reveal what happens after that.

That is the bare bones of the story, but it gives you no idea of HOW Bunuel tells it, which is what makes 'Belle De Jour' such a gem. I think this movie is one of the landmarks of 1960s cinema, and has aged wonderfully. In fact it gets better and better as most contemporary movies about sex get poorer and poorer. A movie that will haunt you. Superb!