La jeune fille

I just got to see this film a few days ago and it is without a doubt a forgotten classic that like "The Defiant Ones" which preceded it and "To Kill A Mockingbird" which followed it deals with racism in the Jim Crow South.The eponymous young one is Evvie (Key Meersman) a teenage girl who's lived a quiet, isolated life on a coastal island with her grandfather. When the grandfather passes away she temporarily enters the custody of a cruel, bigoted caretaker named Miller (Zachary Scott) who is soon making advances towards her. Things get more complicated when an African American clarinet player named Traver (Bernie Hamilton) enters the picture fleeing a police manhunt that ensues when he's accused of raping a white woman. The screenplay by Hugo Butler, Luis Bunuel and Peter Matthiessen eschews stereotypes and the usual melodramatic clichés in favor of real, 3-dimensional characterizations and authentic human drama. Of course, I was familiar with Zachary Scott from earlier films where he famously played sophisticated heels. Here Scott does an excellent job with the difficult task of putting a human face on a despicable character. Likewise Bernie Hamilton, who's best known for a recurring role on the TV series Starsky and Hutch, is pitch-perfect as a musician who understands the forces arrayed against him but refuses to be a victim. I can't find much information about Key Meersman and it appears she only made a couple of films which is too bad because she was a gifted young actress. "The Young One" was a major work by a great director which sadly didn't get the respect it deserved from the establishment in 1960.

"The Young One" is a rare English-language enterprise for acclaimed director Luis Bunuel: a thoroughly perverse, unpleasant yet fascinating tale of corruption of innocence and racial prejudice. Bunuel, well-known as a provocateur, makes the black character (Bernie Hamilton, in a charismatic performance) the most positive one, and he takes advantage of Key Meersman's precocious, efortless eroticism (remember, this was made two years before Kubrick's "Lolita"). There is a great shot near the end of her playing hopscotch while wearing high heels which perfectly illustrates her duality - both a child and a woman. Terrific theme song, too. *** out of 4.

To viewers in 1960 this mostly seemed a rather turgid and unappealing tale of a bigot's reform, compromised by its trashy atmosphere. The key to the film, I believe, is Bunuel's admiration for the writing of the Marquis de Sade. The Zachary Scott character has a whole host of unexamined prejudices, not merely a racial one-- and when that one tumbles, his mind is liberated in all directions. The fact that this includes being "freed" from conventional sexual morality is the Sadean aspect of it-- as in A Clockwork Orange (but no other film that I can think of besides these two), true freedom is by no means an entirely positive or benevolent thing.

On the surface a simple little tale involving a middle aged white man, a young girl whose grandfather has just died and a black fugitive, later to be joined by a gung-ho racist and a priest. But simple, this is not. Beautifully photographed and leisurely told this is a tale of man's inhumanity to man, the corruption of innocence and the very nature of man. The young girl is central to the film and she gives a fantastic performance as she catches the eyes of all the men, yet retains her dignity throughout. It is not really true to consider her totally innocent from the start for she happily takes money for the 'stolen' items and intends to keep the cash for herself. What is more we assume she intends to buy dresses and make-up to make herself more beautiful. Tough though it may seem for her to become aware of such matters so young, we just have to accept it. She is reluctant for her relationship with Miller to become sexual, but not as unhappy as the priest and she has been promised more dresses and significantly a silver pistol, as she gleefully informs him after she survives his baptism. The racial affairs are extremely well portrayed, especially considering this is only 1960. The black character is a completely believable one and likable and seen to be liked by the young girl and eventually even by Miller. The priest (Is this the most sympathetic portrayal of a priest in a Bunuel film?) even offers to stand as witness at any trial. There will be no trial, the fugitive points out to him, showing he has just a little more grasp upon reality. One of the very many highlights in this, for me, was the young girl skipping happily towards the boat with the priest. She is wearing the high heels Miller has given her but she trips gayly along as if playing hopscotch and still, 'just a child'.

Leonard Maltin's *1/2 review of this bafflingly overlooked Bunuel gem – which, more by accident than design, has become one of my favorite film-maker's most-watched efforts – seems, thankfully, to be a minority opinion nowadays and, in fact, renowned critic Jonathan Rosenbaum (albeit contending elsewhere that this was the Spaniard's biggest critical and commercial disappointment) wrote about it in Steven Jay Schneider's "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die"…when Bunuel's much more renowned THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL (1962) is conspicuous by its absence therein! Incidentally, an almost equally obscure fate is shared by the film's immediate predecessor, REPUBLIC OF SIN (1959; which is still pretty hard to come by, though I did catch it once on late-night Italian TV): perhaps, this is because both films were squeezed in between two unexpectedly mature and highly personal works – NAZARIN (1959) and VIRIDIANA (1961)...

Anyway, THE YOUNG ONE is only the director's second English-language film, after ROBINSON CRUSOE (1952), and it also proved to be his last. Plot-wise, it's a hothouse melodrama (which has been considerably altered from the original two-hander short story source) quite typical of his low-budget Mexican output: a bigoted game warden (Zachary Scott) lives on a remote stretch of land – the film was shot in Mexico but the setting is clearly intended to be the American South – with his elderly alcoholic assistant (who has just died when the story opens) and the latter's sensual but naïve teenage grand-daughter (Key Meersman). This situation seems to please Scott, as he suddenly realizes that the girl is no longer a child – but their quiet life is unexpectedly turned upside down with the arrival of a black musician from the mainland (Bernie Hamilton), on the run after an older white woman accused him of rape!

Scott (whose character might very well represent the way his beleaguered but optimistic farmer from Jean Renoir's THE SOUTHERNER [1945] – which, incidentally had been adapted for the screen by the blacklisted co-writer of both ROBINSON CRUSOE and THE YOUNG ONE, Hugo Butler – would turn out under different circumstances!) is absent when Hamilton lands on the island. The latter strikes up a friendship with Meersman, while being embarrassed by her apparent lack of morals (which stacks the sympathy cards in his favor...though, on butting heads with Scott eventually, he loses no opportunity to address him as "white trash")! A battle of wills between the two soon manifests itself: Scott shoots holes in Hamilton's boat and then takes a pot shot at the man himself; the latter turns up enraged at Scott's cabin and manages to disarm him; the warden is thus forced to accept the black man into his house, but still refuses to eat on the same table with him!

Scott, meanwhile, continues to lust after Meersman – and, one night, he forces himself upon her and they sleep together (a potentially controversial sequence that the director handles in an admirably sensitive manner); the very next day, a preacher (Bunuel regular Claudio Brook) from the mainland comes to take the girl away even though Scott had been making such arrangements himself. Meersman is so innocent that she immediately confesses to the priest about her illicit liaison, which obviously shocks him (though, in typical Bunuel fashion, the latter Is himself a hypocrite who casually asks the girl to overturn his mattress because the black man had previously slept on it)! When Brook confronts Scott about the matter, the warden is willing to marry the girl; the priest, however, has in mind another form of compromise – knowing the malicious nature of the woman whom Hamilton is supposed to have assaulted, he believes the musician to be innocent of the crime. So, Brook asks Scott to let the black man go…though they still have to contend with the bigoted boatman (the warden's contact with the mainland) who will not think twice about executing Hamilton on the spot!

The intimate plot and swampy atmosphere are already compelling in themselves – but the whole, then, is elevated by Bunuel's distinctive handling (resulting in any number of irreverent touches along the way, but also a few violent ones, that often have the additional effect of enriching characterization). However, just as integral to the fabric of the film, is the catchy traditional gospel tune "Sinner Man" – even if, typically for Bunuel, it's only heard in the opening and closing moments of the movie; for the record, the charismatic Hamilton also indulges in a couple of jazz solos (to the girl's delight) during his tenure on the island – one of which, however, is (in perhaps the film's comic highlight) abruptly put to a literally explosive end by the jealous Scott! Incidentally, THE YOUNG ONE proved to be the first of just two films to feature the lovely Meersman and while I did get to watch the other one – Damiano Damiani's ARTURO'S ISLAND (1962) – simply because she was in it, the film itself was in no way as rewarding as Bunuel's had been (and continues to be with each successive viewing).

In fact, my previous three viewings of the film came via a slightly fuzzy Italian TV screening in its original English language but embedded with unremovable Italian subtitles. Therefore I'm thoroughly grateful to Lionsgate for releasing THE YOUNG ONE on DVD as part of their modest but very welcome 2-Disc "Luis Bunuel Collection" which also incorporates arguably the director's most inconsequential (if still not unentertaining) film, GRAN CASINO (1947). Incidentally, both titles come accompanied by an Audio Commentary and the one for THE YOUNG ONE is a joint and overly academic effort at analyzing the film's themes and textures. But if this makes for a rather heavy-going listening experience even for an avowed Bunuelian like myself, at least one gets another opportunity to look at celebrated cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa's sublime black-and-white images.