Querelle de Brest

A R.W. Fassbinder double-feature binge (Chinese ROULETTE 1976 and QUERELLE 1982, his swan song) coincides with a starting point for me to access his oeuvre, as one of the pioneer of modern German cinema, Fassbinder has a burning-too-fast career orbit, as if he was exerting all his energy in cranking out films before his dooming self-indulgent suicide at the age of 37 (with more than 40 works done in 15 years). Yet two films must have its restricted view, but Fassbinder films' mindset nevertheless more or less could be conjectured from them, and his stylish flourish is also mesmerizingly toxic.

Both films could adopt themselves comfortably into a theatrical play not the least courtesy of their (mostly or exclusively) in-door locales, for Chinese ROULETTE, it has a secular tone, 90% of the film takes place inside a rural mansion, with familial secrets, connubial deceptions, mother-daughter hatred, the divide of social strata, vindictive self-destruction viciously unfold and infuse a deleterious corruption even to the onlookers, all is triggered by the innocuous eponymous game. While QUERELLE is projected on more ritualized dark amber light maroon background setting stimulating a claustrophobic oppression of lust and desire within a handful locations (the faux-deck of a ship ashore, the phallus worship Hotel Feria Bar, an underground tunnel for hideaway), a male-dominant sexual obsession mingled with blatant homosexual thrust to an astounding incestuous extremity, brilliantly done via an intuitive candor.

Mirror is a recurrent item in both films, exposes the other-half which reflects the true id inside one's soul, in Chinese ROULETTE the stunning flux of the stationary tableaux interlacing two or three out of the eight characters orchestrates a scintillating picture of a guilt-and-punishment visual symphony with swishy panache; in QUERELLE, mirrors reduce their occurrence but the conscientiously measured compositions transpire an even more ostentatious narcissism with a sultry plume of hormone-excreting rugged contours of male bodies.

QUERELLE is adapted from Jean Genet's novel "QUERELLE DE BREST", whose literature text also introduced through the soothing voice-over of an unknown narrator, the film does stage a sensible amount of poetic license to filter a vicarious compassion through a singular mortal's inscrutable behavioral symptoms; in Chinese ROULETTE, a prose (or poem) soliloquy of androgyny also contrives to reach the same effect (but sounds a trifle recondite when contextualizing it under the film's incumbent situation). Anyhow Fassbinder is a trailblazer in defying the mainstream's prejudices, and very capable of visualize and dissect the tumor of humanity.

The cast, there are 8 characters in Chinese ROULETTE, with almost equal weight in the screen time, but it is the youngest one, Andrea Schober (under Fassbinder's guidance for sure), the crippled girl seeks for revenge to her parents' betrayal and negligence, teaches all of us a lesson (how selfish we are to find a scapegoat for every bit of repercussions happen to us) with such acute insight, fearless audacity and extreme measures. While big name (Anna Karina) and other Fassbinder's regulars (Margit Carstensen, Brigitte Mira, Ulli Lommel) all end up licking their own wounds in the corner.

In QUERELLE, Brad Davis (a real-life AIDS fighter then) is valiant, his masculinity and sinewy physique defies all the stereotyped treatment of gay men in the media, injecting a raw and visceral complexity into Querelle's spontaneous promiscuity and sporadic anger. Hanno Pöschl may fall short to guarantee the vigorous duality required for his two roles, but the gut- bashing combats (or playing) between two brothers fabricate the most erotic intimacy has ever been presented on the screen. Two veterans, Franco Nero is either recording his secret affection in the cabinet or wandering near Querelle from oblique angles; the fading beauty Jeanne Moreau, hums "Each man kills the things he loves", and is lost in her own fantasy of the banquet she can savor.

Personally I incline towards QUERELLE's unconventional approach to kill off the ambiguities of sexual orientation and examine the most primal desire made with blood and flesh, but Chinese ROULETTE achieves another form of success, it maintains a serene aplomb above all the vile assault and bitter turbulence, like the unspecified pistol shot at the coda, no matter who bites the dust, a bullet is never an ultimate solution to all the problems.

Jean Genet's queer theory is still cutting edge and controversial. The film version can't begin to encompass all the ideas in the novel, but it stands on its own. This film is stylized and poetic, raw and crass. Tenderness and brutality blend until you can't tell one from the other. Betrayal becomes an act of affection. Submission is empowering.

Characters travel to extremes in their journeys of self discovery. One man seduces his young lover with lecherous statements about the boy's sister, "Imagine what I'd do to her if I were holding her like I'm holding you right now." The same man later rants in a bar, "I'm all man!!! I even f*** guys!" This dichotomy of gender-play and defiant same-sexuality is at the root of Genet's queer theory. Even someone with no knowledge of Genet's philosophy will be struck by its power in this film.

Translating Genet to film is certainly not an easy task since he cares relatively little as a writer for conventional plot and his storyline is essentially the baroque flow of feeling from his inner life. But this film does a masterful job of capturing all the subtle nuance of Genet's poetry in the flow of its' imagery. The mood is intensely introverted and philosophically existential throughout. The sets have the feel of the German Cinema around the time of THE CABINET OF DOCTOR CALIGARI, and yet the images flow around the angularity of the sets creating a wonderful tension between the characters and their milieu. This is Fassbinder at his very best. And the performance of Brad Davis is outstanding combining a rough, male-like crudeness with the innocence stemming from a young animal's eager naturalness. He creates a character who is forever trying to mask his simplicity, a kind of gothic Angel repeatedly discovering the Vampire stalking him from within. This is in keeping with Genet the writer who displays his suffering poetically, -like a tangle of gilded roses twined about a leper. The whole thing is a marvellous rendering of a kind of languidly sensuous celebration of the darker side of the male psyche. Since Brad Davis also appeared in THE PLAYER, we might say this film is like Huckleberry Finn meeting Nosferatu with a drunken Anne Rice as narrator. Bizarrly brilliant!

A very difficult film, for many reasons. As a source novel, Genet's 'Querelle' presents a challenge for any adaptation but as this is R.W. Fassbinder's final work, one is compelled to ignore one's initial (poor) response and dig for signs of the vision seen elsewhere in his cannon.

This is a film that unrelentingly refuses to let the viewer in. Narrative is piled upon narrative which is further punctuated by Brechtian title cards containing quotes from a variety of sources (including, of course, Genet's novel). The high stylisation of setting and performance is deliberately off putting and distancing. In this world of almost exclusive homosexual desire, women are severely marginalised which leaves the great Jeanne Moreau with little to do other than warble a rather ridiculous (and ridiculously catchy) pop ditty that uses Oscar Wilde's 'Ballad of Reading Gaol' for lyrics. Here, choice of sexuality is symbolic for how one stands in opposition to social rules and true fulfilment and depth of being comes only in humility and, ultimately, humiliation. Of course, much of this overtly gay posturing can be seen simply as high camp and add an undeniable veneer of silliness which is, quite frankly, hard to shake off.

However, this is a deeply serious film. Maybe Fassbinder was simply looking to upset as many people as he could and the whole point is to alienate the viewer as much as possible, either into anger or submission. It's hard to fully know what to make of 'Querelle' but either way, although stunningly lit, it has little of the swagger or movement of his best work and comes across as rather staid and inert. But, again, possibly that's the point. Confusion and denial as to individual identity leads to frustration and random acts of violence (if only to oneself) and self imploding inertia. It's hard to criticise a film that is deliberate about these points but, ultimately, it is equally hard to like and finding a place for it is no easy task. Possibly a work to admire and provoke rather than one to enjoy.

After its end, easy to define it as a masterpiece. And the motives are so many than you can reduce them to cast - Jeanne Moreau , Franco Nero, Laurent Malet or, off course, Brad davis, to the illustration of the perspective about homosexuality of Jean Genet , to the touch, so obvious to bsessive, of Tom of Finland art , to the poetry, in bitter sparkles or to the crazness of Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

In same measure, it is far to be a film for you like or love it but for see it, time by time, having the feeling than you see it , always, the first time.

It is a film making you, for less two hours, its prisoner. For themes, ambiguity , dialogue, who, at first, sounds so forced, for the music, scenes and portraits of characters, for decisions and vulnerabilities , exposed so simple.

In short, a masterpiece. One far to be easy to define, enough being to feel it.