La prisonnière

What this film lacks in substance is certainly made up for in the starling and typically 1968 visuals. The subject may be BDSM and voyeurism but the look is pure 60s kinetic and op-art. The portrayal as Stan as an obsessive photographer exploring his deeply felt notions of dominance and submission are somewhat muted by his role as art gallery owner, dealing in shimmering and revolving metallic sculptures and rightly coloured geometric shapes. Nevertheless he does a decent job of convincing and some of the photography scenes with his 'little housewife' turned adventuress and submissive are effective. The reliance on great flamboyant splashes of orange and yellow throughout encourage a smile rather than a concern and it is as if Clouzot himself is conflicted. Not the greatest film on the subject, it is certainly no Belle de Jour and despite the arty use of colour, no Blow Up, but still well worth a watch.

Elisabeth Wiener is in an open marriage with artist Bernard Fresson. His work is part of an exhibition by art dealer Laurent Terzieff to promote his becoming a 'supermarket of modern art' to sell to all the people who are moving into apartments and need something to put on their walls: lots of kinetic op-art. While Fresso goes off with a drunk art critic to earn better reviews, Mlle Weiner accepts an invitation from Terzieff to see the art he has at home. Surprising to her, there are a lot of primitive native pieces, quite distinct from the sort of thing he sells. He shows her his own artistic side, which is a slide show of words from manuscripts, showing the different way that different writers write 'rien'... and a nude woman in a strikingly submissive position. She leaves, then visits him in his office, where he explains that everyone likes to take orders, to submit, to be relieved of the responsibility of making decisions. First with a model, then on her own, Mlle Wiener returns to Terzieff's apartment, falling in love with him, submitting to him.

Henri-Georges Clouzot's last complete movie is another one in a long series in which he makes it clear he has absolute contempt for humanity. Here he attempts to show us why we are so contemptible, how we fool ourselves into degradation, how we excuse ourselves, and fool no one but ourselves. His technique here is a lot colder than when he began to do this in the 1940s. It looked to me as if this was his reaction to Michael Powell's PEEPING TOM except he offers no excuses, no reasons why people are the way they are. He just shows them as he sees them, and allows us to draw our own conclusions.

Clouzot's last film, (and his only completed film in colour), takes him, perhaps, further away from the mainstream than almost anything he had done previously and this, being the late sixties, allowed him a much greater freedom of expression in terms of content. "La Prisonniere", or "Woman in Chains", may not be the late masterpiece some might have hoped for but it certainly didn't deserve its fate of almost disappearing from view entirely. It's not really a thriller but a tale of obsession as artist's wife and television journalist Elisabeth Wiener develops an unhealthy attachment to art dealer Laurent Terzieff after catching husband Bernard Fresson being unfaithful; (she's also doing a documentary on women being abused). Its setting also gives Clouzot the opportunity to indulge his passion for art in all its glorious forms and seldom has a director dipped into colour so imaginatively first time out; this is a fabulous looking film.

Its languid pace may dissipate its potential for suspense but as a tale of a sadomasochistic relationship it does exert a creepy fascination that says as much about Clouzot as any of his previous films, more so in fact; this is confessional cinema at its most extreme which probably accounts for its failure. Had he lived and had the studios let him I can see Hitchcock going down the same road, ditching suspense entirely and leaving just the psychology. There is no denying its brilliance but I just wish I could have liked this more. This odd blend of Hitchcock, Bergman, Antonioni and Michael Powell's "Peeping Tom" finally bites off more than it can chew.

I am giving this film a 10 because I can see that it is, in its own horrific way, a masterpiece. It's title ' Woman in Chains ' is misplaced, as it deals as the French title says about being imprisoned. How it is to being imprisoned to destructive desires that can lead to a living hell within that borders on death and madness. It is in my opinion a film to be endured, and not to be enjoyed in any way whatsoever. It is set in an art gallery in Paris, run by a man, superbly played by Laurent Terzieff who gets his addictive fix out of making women utterly submissive to his desires. Clouzot with his cold eye shows us how certain aspects of Modernism in art can be revealing of the nothingness within that people can fall into. Kinetic art with its flashing lights and movements folds mechanically into destroying others as well as oneself. His argument is persuasive, as set against this background women are used and mentally tortured, and clearly the film is also an experiment on how to use Conceptual art on film. The ending is shocking and gruelling, and those who see this work have to be prepared to cope with it. I saw it in Paris and was so disturbed by Clouzot's vision of human beings being slaves of willing masters ( mainly heterosexual, but hints of male homosexuality and Lesbianism are thrown in ) that I walked the streets all night to avoid nightmares. And of course the masters of domination are equally submissive to their own domination. A hard film that was prescient of future decades, and it is not just about the latter part of the 1960's. A must see for those who can endure its joyless depiction of warped eroticism.

This bizarre opus from Henri-Georges Clouzot has certainly divided opinion, described by some as profound and considered by others to have tarnished this great director's reputation. For this viewer at any rate it is technically accomplished and beautifully shot by Andréas Wilding but remains a rather cold, empty and indeed impotent enterprise that I felt obliged to watch but have not the least desire to revisit.

The master/slave relationship between the bored Josée of Elisabeth Wiener and Laurent Terzieff's disturbed Stanislas gradually turns to a seemingly genuine love but of course in Clouzot's world there is no such thing as a happy ending.........

The erotic element is supplied by the exotic Dany Carrel who was to have featured in 'L'Enfer'. In 'test shots' for that sadly aborted film Clouzot's camera lingers tantalisingly on her cleavage and here he is able to indulge himself more fully. There are those who will find her gyrations in a plastic mac to be either physically arousing or laughable.

Having been denied the chance to realise a psychedelic sequence in 'L'Enfer', the one he has given us here is truly outstanding but Kubrick had just beaten him to it. Likewise the connection between photography and voyeurism had already been handled to great effect by Powell and Antonioni whilst Bunuel's study of sexual fantasy from the previous year was balanced by that director's customary dark humour.

Always plagued by ill health, this was to be Clouzot's swansong and one is intrigued as to where he would have gone from here and how much further his misanthropy would have taken him had he continued filming. By all accounts a softcore porn film was mooted in the mid-seventies which would seem a natural progression.