O Prazer

A trilogy of Guy de Maupassant stories, two short simple ones framing a long and impossibly rich one, and I don't know why everyone complains about the framing ones - everything is given exactly the weight that their narrative will support. An old man dressing up like a young dandy to relive the gavotting excesses of his youth, only to end in physical collapse, starts things off; and to close we have a beautiful young couple who go from romantic bliss to petty vindictiveness to resigned acceptance via an attempted suicide. This gives us a rather complex understanding of the meaning of 'pleasure', and the worst you can say is that one and three don't utterly embody pleasure the way number two does (although the swirling camera work in the dance scene comes damn close). The story of a troop of sex workers romping off to a country wedding is simplicity itself, but also incredibly rich - full of memorable human beings and interactions. Everyone sees happiness in the place that they're not, but this episode celebrates life wherever it finds it, and it's a joy to watch.

It has been rightly claimed that, between 1945 and 1955, Max Ophuls was the greatest director in the world, crafting a string of dense pearls unmatched before or since. Even 'Le Plaisir', supposedly a minor film in his canon would be a staggering masterpiece in anyone else's.

A triptych of Guy de Maupassant stories, it is also about a trio of Gods. The first two are shown to be limited: Maupassant, author, creator, narrator, speaks to us from the darkness, disembodied, all pervasive ('I could be sitting next to you'), responsible for everything we see - in the last story he crashes down to earth, and is responsible for a suicide attempt; and Ophuls' camera, seemingly weightless, able to navigate space with a freedom unavailable to humans - even it is barred from Madame Tellier's Establishment, forced to peek in from outside. It can reveal the bleak reality behind the prostitutes' gaiety, but is has no access, like the men who exploit them, to their souls.

Or does it? The stunning epiphany at the church, is, after all, on one level just a trick of the camera, or a mere figment of the women's imagination. As we would expect, the camerawork, composition, decor, music and acting are breathtaking and ambiguously nostalgic; what is more remarkable is the magic sense of nature, so rare in Ophuls, and, with the exception of the Archers, King Vidor and Lynne Ramsey, so rare in cinema.

Happiness, says the narrator at the end, is not a lark. And the film believes it, even though as he speaks the glimpses of children playing with kites and daintily placed chairs on the beach (echoing those set out earlier by Gabin in the back of his cart for the visiting prostitutes) continue to evoke the swirling compositional grace and elegance which mark the film's every moment. Far more unpredictable and radical than most portmanteau films, the highlight is the second story, which at first seems to be about a group of men who get together one night when the local brothel is closed, then follows the whores' trip to the country (with a delightful interlude on the train as they share the compartment with an old peasant couple and a randy salesman); then returns to the brothel - Ophuls' highly liberal camera ultimately pans deliriously around the windows from the outside as the place fills with dance, spilling celebration and delight. The many surprises of that story perfectly evoke the enormous span of human emotional experience; it touches on so many dreams of escape whereas the other two episodes, both much shorter and darker, remind us of the occasional price of such dreams.

Is it possible to take one of the best tales in French literature and make a film even better out of it? Yes, it is. The tale is Maupassant's "La maison Tellier", the film-maker is Max Ophuls, the film is "Le Plaisir". In fact, the movie is divided into three episodes, corresponding to three Maupassant's tales. In the two short introducing and final stories we actually find the bitter, acid, misanthropical sarcasm typical of Maupassant's style, though softened by Ophuls' sympathy for human unhappiness.

What really stuns the viewer is the central episode, the sumptuous narration of "La maison Tellier". The story is the same in the book and in the film. A bunch of prostitutes from "La maison Tellier", the brothel of a French province town, takes a day off to go to a First Communion celebration in the countryside. But what a difference of mood. The fact is that Maupassant detested and despised people, while Ophuls manifestly loves them and is always ready to forgive their faults and pettiness. Therefore the writer's aggressive satire is replaced by the director's gentle sense of humor. The brothel is closed, and we shortly realize that the balance of the town, the whole social order is upset. Some sailors start a brawl, and that looks rather expectable. But even peaceful middle-class respectable citizens, long-time friends, begin to quarrel bitterly. "La maison Tellier" is the key of social stability!

Then the church-scene, a perfect blend of sweet fun and profound human feeling. Overwhelmed by the intense emotion of the First Communion Mass, the prostitutes burst in tears, and they carry all the villagers with them. I guess to have noticed a delightful nuance by Ophuls. The "beautiful Jewish girl" whom, according to the director (a Jewish himself), no brothel can afford to miss (!), at first tries to restrain herself. She's not Christian, she's not supposed to be moved! But, of course, she soon starts to weep... Great emotion, great art! And the women merged in the high grass, picking flowers... it's late, they risk to miss their train... but no! It's so a gorgeous day, let's go and pick some flowers! How poetic, how beautiful... what a fantastic scene! Needless to say, as soon as the women are back, peace, order, friendship are restored in the town.

The above comments can give a partial idea of the director's extraordinary treatment of the story. But it's important to remark that just the visual beauties and the camera work by the genius Ophuls are largely enough to place "Le plaisir" among the best works in the history of cinema. Let me just mention the first scene, when we peep inside the brothel together with the outside eye of the camera, which jumps from a window to another like a little bird. That is the most brilliant cinematic idea I can remember. A perfect film forces a perfect job by the cast. And in fact the acting is magnificent.

"Le plaisir" is a profound study of human beings, of their joys and sorrows, an instance of superlative good taste in treating a risky theme, a triumph of clever cinematic technique. A peak of the art of cinema.

Max Ophuls is rightly regarded as a major filmmaker and this is a major work. If you'd heard of his fluid camera-work but hadn't seen a film bearing his signature this film would illustrate perfectly what people mean by his fluid camera-work. In 1952 the portmanteau film was hardly new; in England we had seen both Quartet and Trio (a joke in the early fifties had two hippies walking down Broadway and passing in turn cinemas where these titles were playing: One says 'Man, we better dig this crazy combo, it's fading fast') followed by Encore, all featuring short stories by Somerset Maugham but it's fair to say that all three lacked the visual style and sheer sumptuousness that Ophuls brings to DeMaupassant. Framed by The Mask and The Model the piece de resistance is The House of Madame Tellier, a four-reel examination of the role of the bordel in the provincial town - when they close for a day the whole sub-social life of the town is disturbed. If the lion's share of the plaudits go to the middle segment the others have more than their own individual moments and staples of French cinema like Jean Gabin, Danielle Darrieux and Simone Simon get to strut their stuff and pay their dues. A visual delight.