Duas Almas em Suplício

Two beautiful ugly ones, or two ugly beautiful ones, a perfect couple on the screen. Neither Belmondo nor Jeanne Moreau were beauties, they had an immense personal charm that made them likeable. Plus a great talent in expressing with terrible ease what thousands of other actors struggle in vain to express. Both, Moreau and Belmondo, did not even need words, they could convey enormously just by their presence, just by a look. Two geniuses of cinematography who delighted my childhood in particular and my adult life, I saw almost all their films, only this "Moderato Cantabile" was missing because, made in 1960, I was too young, I was less than 2 years old at the time and I don't even know if it was in the cinemas in Bucharest. I found it on YouTube now in March 2025 and watched it with great interest, although I was very tired, with many hours of sleep minus. A very delicate film that is worth seeing. However, knowing the extremely low intellectual level of today, it will only be of interest to those who know who Moreau and Belmondo were.

"Moderato Cantibile" was only the second film by the great British director Peter Brook and it proved, like Welles before him, that he was equally adept in either medium. It was made in France in 1960 and has now largely been forgotten, though at the time the magazine Films and Filming selected it as the best film of the year from any source and it's a masterpiece. It's also one of the most beautiful black and white films to be made in the Cinemascope format. (Armand Thirard was the DOP).

It's about a respectable,if unhappily married, woman in a grim little coastal town in France who drifts into an affair of sorts with a man from farther down the social ladder. They are played, magnificently, by Jeanne Moreau and Jean-Paul Belmondo. The oblique, brilliant screenplay is by Marguerite Duras and Gerard Jarlot from a novel by Duras and anyone remotely interested in cinema as an art-form should seek it out.

In a small provincial town that time neglects, two lost souls meander round quite circumspect, an imperceptible entwine, fading in and out of time, both longing for a moment to connect. One is captured in a marriage like a fly, cocooned inside a coffin left to die, the other, isolated, all his options firmly gated, unable to remove the bonds that tie.

Once again, Jeanne Moreau delivers a performance few other actors could have managed, both then and now, more than ably supported by a sullen Jean-Paul Belmondo, they both leave you wishing they were alive in a more modern world, where tradition and fear of the institutions that bind them have all but vanished, and they can be who they want to be. Although without those shackles the connections may well have been quite different.

the atmosphere. the Duras mark. the mark of Peter Brooks. and the performances. a Belmondo who conquest a special status, exploring a role who has the force of nuances. Jeanne Moreau - the same and different. the piano's lessons. and the city. a film about solitude in a honest, cruel manner. slices from Madame Bovary. and the search of sense in the presence of the other. the mixture of temptation and fear, expectation and sin, the form of illusion and the brutal end does it a gem. not only for the artistic virtues but for a special manner to use the novel for the portrait of a small world. a film of music as piece from silhouettes, dialogs and fall. a not real comfortable film. but useful.

Jeanne Moreau is with her son at a piano lesson. A fuss in the street alerts her that something is going on in the street. A woman has been killed in a nearby bar. She goes there and meets Jean-Paul Belmondo, who witnessed the event. They begin a brief affair.

Under the direction of Peter Brook we get one of Mlle Moreau's typically fine performances. The story, however, is very slight. We are to see the emptiness of her life, her indifferent husband, and his dull business associates at their haute-cuisine dinners, her lack of connection to anyone save her child. Her concern with the murder is an obvious issue, with its concerns about the evanescence of life. Yet that soon evaporates. Her inability to connect to another adult save through sex renders her as shallow as the dinner guests. The audience is held in suspense, hoping she will achieve something deeper.