Providence

Renais "Providence" has all the hallmarks of cinema at its artistic best. Every component of film making is expertly handled. David Mercer's literary screenplay is a joy to listen to, especially when delivered by the likes of Dirk Bogarde and of course the legendary John Gielgud. The visuals are haunting and perfectly shot with detailed attention to set and costume. Miklos Rosza's soundtrack is in total accordance with the work as a whole, never intrusive, while adding to the rich tapestry that is "Providence". Renais too has assembled a wonderful if somewhat odd cast, which suitably serve this somewhat odd film.

Gielgud plays a dying author whose mind is racing with fantasies peopled by members of his family. His character Clive Langham is depicted as a ribald, sensual, womanizer. Yet his fantasies, making up the bulk of the film, are curiously cold and stark. They are played in bleak settings with an ever present sense of impending catastrophe, though remaining totally devoid of emotion. These imaginings are at completely at odds with their creator. The extreme incongruousness of these fantasies with the character to whom they belong, remains a mystery. This detracts much in the way of emotional impact which is very much lacking in the film, whether intentional or not. The elimination of emotion leaves "Providence" a cold, wonderfully intelligent exercise in the art of film making.

Renais has assembled an intriguing cast headed by the superb Gielgud. Dirk Bogarde whose performances have often been tinged with a cold, sauve superciliousness brings this unpleasant quality to an unparalleled level of extremity. Even the usually over emoting Ellen Burstyn delivers a restrained performance. Elaine Stritch has to be the oddest choice for the role being so contrary to her well known persona. Never has a more unlikely coupling been presented than Stitch and Bogarde as lovers. Yet in this emotionless void, even that becomes acceptable.

"Providence" is a highly unusual, important film and shouldn't be missed by the discerning film enthusiast. Yet despite the wealth of cinematic craft on display it remains an unsatisfying experience.

Don't be put off by what people (including lovers of the film) say about its initially being confusing. Even the first time through, it is madly enjoyable second by second, and it needn't take long to figure out what is going on. In fact, once you know that we are into a dying man's dreams/fantasies/wishes regarding his own family, you have all you need to make sense of virtually everything straight off. By the end, everything has locked into place in a most satisfying way. The contrast between the man's dreams about his family and what you see when they appear in person near the end is one of the most delicious things in the whole of art.

Since so many good comments have been written here, mostly on the psychological side of the characters, and they are all excellent, I decided to comment upon a very present entity and that is WINE.

Notice that, until the last scene, everybody drinks white, mostly CHABLIS, an acid one. But on that last scene Resnais shifts to RED. It is no accident, it has in my modest opinion, a way that illustrates a very fundamental change in the feelings that occurred in that lunch.

Criticism and over-analysis, ever present till that event, give way to peaceful acceptance of the characters by the father, Without hypocrite sensibility, that he refuses, but with warmth and tolerance.

Well, I do believe, by some 55 years of experience, that white wine (dry, European style) makes one restless and sometimes bitter.

Red wine makes one more relaxed and happy.

I do not know which kind of wine Resnais prefers, but since he is a Breton I would not be surprised, that it is WHITE. Maybe that is the reason why His movies are so difficult to decode. They are also some of the most magnificent works of cinematic art..

A double header of complex imagination (first part) and painful recrimination (second part) in this film of deep feeling and hurt seen through the eyes of the dying author (John Gielgud). David Mercer's script includes all his life long angst of the relationship of father and son, although now in his final years fought out with more complex and participating female characters in the ghost of his dead wife, who doubles as his son's mistress (Elaine Stritch) and daughter-in-law (Ellen Burstyn).

The acting is pure poetry with John Geilgud at his refined best as the drunken and dying author in part celebrating his life of drunken womanising and in part regretting the pain that he has caused, in particular to his family. Dirk Borgarde performing the impossible task of being two imaginary characters and one real one with seemless effort. As the son of the dying author he carries all the pain and hatreds of the dying father both in the old man's fantasy and in his real life of inherited disillusionment. His relationship with his wife and mistress (in practice his mother! complex eh!) changes from the deeply loving to the perceive accusatory of the old man's increasingly drunken imagination.

Ellen Burstyn gives one of her finest film performances as the long suffering wife ,but in the end all the plaudits go to the writer. The style may be only that of the one-liner but each of them hits as an aphorism from the greatest of philosophical minds. The revolving characters of the final part of the authors dreaming make a bewildering tapestry of the imagination.

A fabulous movie, but one that will take many viewings to actually comprehend the complexities of it. Set that video!!

Not enough can truly be said for this film. Equally, nothing can change people's reaction to it; it is an art piece which separates people. Early reviews from the period of its release seem unfriendly at least. Many reviewers found the film pretentious and constructionally difficult. Many claimed it attempted more mystery than it had a right to. I feel this was a film ahead of its time, and any pomposity in the film comes not from its center, but from its central character, Clive Langham (John Gielgud). This, more than almost any film of the 20th century, is a film which rewards the viewer for multiple viewings. If you are often accused of being obsessive, overly-analytic or just plain artsy, this film will tickle you in some very personal places. The message I will refuse to comment on, though it is very deeply personal to me, and, I would say, to all writers. But the "crux of the biscuit," if you will, is this: examine the title in relation to the film.