Un chant d'amour

One of the most memorable of short films, UN CHANT D'AMOUR is also one of the most controversial. Made by the famed gay writer, Jean Genet, it is set in a prison and features uncensored homosexual scenes which may cut a little too close to the bone for some. If, on the other hand, you're not a homophobe, this is a beautiful and cinematically wonderful experience, with the same kind of magical attraction as Jean Cocteau's ORPHEE or LA BELLE ET LA BETE. Highly recommended for people with open minds, regardless of their own personal sexual orientation.

UN CHANT d'AMOUR is a remarkable short: sordid, brutal, provocative; yet as poetic and lyrical as its title suggests. Although not as rich and beguiling as Fassbinder's QUERELLE, and despite its claustrophobic lack of humour, the film lacks the prolixity that often mars Genet's most famous literary works.

Indeed, there are no words in this film at all, or music, or any kind of sound. Just complete silence. This is thematically vital: set in a prison, with inmates in solitary cells, the film explores the idea of the voice - who has the power to speak, and hence represent themselves, in our society. The film begins with the figure symbolic of this power in society - authority - in this case a police warden. Robbed of a voice, he is reduced to the role of a voyeur, becoming OUR representative. The complicity between authority and criminality is a favourite Genet theme. As the audience for this kind of film is predominantly middle-class, it is the warden who sees for us an underworld we would normally run a mile from.

We see frustrated prisoners, trying to communicate: by passing flowers through barred windows; knocking on walls; through special code; or, in the film's most exquisite and arousing sequence, through a shared smoking between a hole in the wall. The film is a melodrama, literalising what Nicholas Ray made figurative - imprisonment and repression. The film, inevitably, honestly, ends as it began, with one crucial, perhaps hopeful, difference. Some men get relief from this intolerable situation through masturbation, others by mad erotic breakdancing. There are scenes which escape this hell into a kind of pastoral arcadia, where two men find happiness amidst sunny verdure. It is difficult to tell whether this sequence is a flashback, flashforward, or merely a dream (the whole thing could be the warden's fantasy), but it too eventually ends in brutality and death.

All this is shown to us from the viewpoint of the warden. His gaze, though, is explicitly fetishised - he is made complicit in what he sees. This is literalised when his arousal becomes unbearable, and he begins whipping a prisoner. The phrase 'climax of the movie' begins to take on more than one meaning.

The inmates themselves are subject to explicit fetishism - being reduced to a series of torsos, limbs, hands, members. Normally in cinema, this kind of spectacle is visited on beautiful women for the delectation of the male viewer. Here the male prisoners are treated to huge close-ups and soft lighting, like the greatest Hollywood starlet, a profoundly subversive gesture. Years before cultural studies, masculinity is systematically shown to a performance, a process of becoming.

The film is bookended with childlike Cocteauesque credits on a blackboard, as if by laying squalor and sexuality so bare and unflinchingly, Genet hopes to return us to a kind of innocence, a new way of seeing.

I can't believe that all four reviews here are preoccupied by the homosexual aspect of Genet's short film. I guess being familiar with his novels - Our Lady of Flowers, Funeral Rites, etc - I took it for granted that his film would necessarily be set in a prison and involve human longing manifest in homosexual contact between inmates. Don't be fooled, though. Movies like Brokeback Mountain harp on the homosexual factor, making it a political issue that hammers the viewer over the head. Midnight Express made prison sex a pop-culture joke. Genet seems naive by comparison. It's only a vehicle for his art, though certainly a favored one, owing to fact he spent most of his life in French prisons. Anyway, the setting could function just as well as a fictional netherworld dedicated to isolation. Its a brilliant and deliberately shocking movie and shouldn't be missed by anyone.

...of course, that depends on what definition of "gay" you're using. In terms of "happiness", this film falls quite flat (although there is a sense of hope in the short's very final moments, specifically the second to last shot), however in terms of homosexuality, this avant garde masterpiece is quite strong. A landmark of queer cinema, "A Song of Love" is a beautiful film no matter what your sexuality (as long as you have at least a mild tolerance for penis imagery), one that conveys the powers of passion like few films ever have. It expresses ones most inner feelings and desires in a fashion that is abstract, but enjoyable and relatable. I'm not gay myself, but I can certainly identify with this film to an extent, it is like a visual representation of the great emotional toll love can have on a person, and it's brilliantly made. The cinematography, acting, lighting, camera-work, editing, and so on are all top notch, and as long as you can get into the film's experimental style, you're most likely to relish in its erotic and emotional glories.

Imagery and metaphor as well as brutally realistic scenes. Its image of smoke through the wall has been copied in other, lesser films.

So original and daring for its time, the film still has the power to shock seventy five years later.

The power of the imagination to transcend quotidian setbacks and hurts is stunning. During the attack by the prison guard, the older prisoner fantasises about an idyllic afternoon with his beau from the next cell. When the gun is inserted it's at the moment in his mind that he finally gets to pleasure the younger man. The dank prison and the sadistic, jealous guard can't overcome desire, longing and the power of the mind.

The hand catching the flowers at the end is the final triumph. Separated but not separate, connection wins out.