A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Jacques Rivette. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jacques Rivette. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 10, 2026

La Belle Noiseuse (Jacques Rivette, 1991)

Emmanuelle Béart and Michel Piccoli in La Belle Noiseuse
Cast: Michel Piccoli, Jane Birkin, Emmanuelle Béart, Marianne Denicourt, David Burzstein, Gilles Arbona, Bernard Dufour. Screenplay: Pascal Bonitzer, Christine Laurent, Jacques Rivette, based on a novella by Honoré de Balzac. Cinematography: William Lubtchansky. Production design: Emmanuel de Chauvigny. Film editing: Nicole Lubtchansky. 

No matter how much critics and theorists of art may insist that it's about sublimation and pure form, nudity is inevitably about sexual desire. No film demonstrates that fact more clearly than Jacques Rivette's La Belle Noiseuse, in which the actress Emmanuelle Béart bares her body on screen for the better part of four hours. Her character, Marianne, is persuaded by the aging artist Édouard Frenhofer (Michel Piccoli) to pose for him in a variety of tortuous positions as he strives to paint what he hopes will be his final chef d'oeuvre. While Frenhofer and Marianne labor in his studio, his wife, Liz (Jane Birkin), and her lover, Nicolas (David Burzstein) wait and fret, both tacitly suspicious that more than just the process of creating art is taking place behind closed doors. Liz was once Frenhofer's model, so she knows the possible outcome of a working relationship between artist and model, as does Nicolas, himself an artist. But it's to Rivette's great credit that the film finesses the issue of eroticism. We come to accept the essential role that Marianne's naked body plays in the formation of a work of art, and to understand the frustrations of turning the artist's fleeting vision into permanence. We see the hand of the artist -- actually the hand of Bernard Dufour when the rest of Piccoli's Frenhofer is out of camera range -- transforming flesh into line and pattern. Does Frenhofer create a masterpiece? We never know, because we don't see the finished product. He chooses to literally wall it off from other eyes and to show the public a rather banal painting in its stead. Art for the artist's sake, if you will. La Belle Noiseuse won the Cannes Grand Prix, and while I don't think the narrative content justifies its length, it's an exceptional film. 

Monday, April 28, 2025

Up, Down, Fragile (Jacques Rivette, 1995)

Marianne Denicourt and Bruno Todeschini in Up, Down, Fragile

Cast: Marianne Denicourt, Nathalie Richard, Laurence Côte, André Marcon, Bruno Todeschini, Wilfred Benaïche, Enzo Enzo, Anna Karina, Stéphanie Schwartzbrod, Christine Vézinet, László Szabó (voice). Screenplay: Marianne Denicourt, Nathalie Richard, Laurence Côte, Pascal Bonitzer, Christine Laurent, Jacques Rivette. Cinematography: Christophe Pollock. Production design: Emmanuel de Chauvigny. Film editing: Nicole Lubtchansky. Music: François Bréant. 

Jacques Rivette's Up, Down, Fragile is a dawdling, self-indulgent film for cinéastes with a lot of time on their hands. It intrigued me for about an hour, but then my patience with Rivette's send-up of movie tropes and genres began to wear thin. 


Saturday, February 1, 2025

L'Amour Fou (Jacques Rivette, 1969)








Cast: Bulle Ogier, Jean-Pierre Kalfon, Josée Destoop, Michèlle Moretti, Celia, Françoise Godde, Maddly Bamy, Liliane Bordoni, Yves Beneyton, Dennis Berry, Michel Delahaye, André S. Labarthe. Screenplay: Jacques Rivette, Marilù Parolini, Cinematography: Étienne Becker, Alain Levent. Film editing: Anne Dubot, Nicole Lubtchansky. Music: Jean-Claude Eloy. 

Thursday, January 30, 2025

Le Pont du Nord (Jacques Rivette, 1981)













Cast: Bulle Ogier, Pascale Ogier, Pierre Clémenti, Jean-François Stévenin, Benjamin Baltimore, Steve Baës, Joe Dann, Mathieu Schiffman, Antoine Gurevich, Julien Lidsky, Marc Truscelli. Screenplay: Bulle Ogier, Pascale Ogier, Suzanne Schiffman, Jacques Rivette. Cinematography: Caroline Champetier, William Lubtchansky, Film editing: Nicole Lubtchansky, Catherine Quesemand. 

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Céline and Julie Go Boating (Jacques Rivette, 1974)

Dominique Labourier and Juliet Berto in Céline and Julie Go Boating

Cast: Juliet Berto, Dominique Labourier, Bulle Ogier, Marie-France Pisier, Barbet Schroeder, Nathalie Asnar, Marie-Thérèse Saussure, Philippe Clévenot. Screenplay: Juliet Berto, Dominique Labourier, Bulle Ogier, Marie-France Pisier, Jacques Rivette, Eduardo de Gregorio, based in part on stories by Henry James. Cinematography: Jacques Renard. Film editing: Nicole Lubtchansky. Music: Jean-Marie Sénia. 


Thursday, March 15, 2018

Paris Belongs to Us (Jacques Rivette, 1961)

Betty Schneider and Giani Esposito in Paris Belongs to Us
Anne Goupil: Betty Schneider
Gérard Lenz: Giani Esposito
Terry Yordan: Françoise Prévost
Philip Kaufman: Daniel Crohem
Pierre Goupil: François Maistre
Jean-Marc: Jean-Claude Brialy
De Georges: Jean-Marie Robain

Director: Jacques Rivette
Screenplay: Jacques Rivette, Jean Gruault
Cinematography: Charles L. Bitsch
Film editing: Denise de Casabianca
Music: Philippe Arthuis

Paris belongs to the French, which is one of the problems Francophobes have with it. And there's much for them to find problems with in Jacques Rivette's first feature, one of the key works of the French New Wave. Even I found myself squirming at the gallery of poseurs present at the party near the beginning of the film. But then I realized that the film is a kind of critique of poseurs: Everyone plays a role, it seems to be saying, and everyone tries to bend the narrative in their direction. The narrative of Paris Belongs to Us is a deconstruction of the political paranoia thriller: Its characters are caught up on a vast international right-wing conspiracy that may or may not exist. The idea that it does exist seems to be supported by the fact that several of its characters are exiles from Franco's Spain and Joe McCarthy's America, and the fact that some of them end up dead. The idea that it exists only in the minds of the characters seems to be supported by the fact that none of these anxious artists and intellectuals ever manages to accomplish anything: They're paralyzed by their own paranoia and egotism, or rather, like Lewis Carroll's Red Queen, they're running fast to stay in the same place. Rivette admired Lewis Carroll, so we can see his protagonist, Anne Goupil, as Alice in the Parisian pays des merveilles. She falls into the chaos of a production of Shakespeare's Pericles, a mess of a play that he probably wrote only half of, directed by Gérard Lenz, who is somehow ensnared in the political mesh that claimed the life of a composer named Juan, who had taped a guitar piece as accompaniment for the production. But after his suicide (if it was one) the tape has disappeared. Anne takes on the job of finding the tape, which leads her deeper into the mesh and into encounters with more strange characters. In the conclusion, nothing is concluded except the lives of several people, and the viewers are left wondering, "What was all that about?" Which is exactly what Rivette wants them to wonder. The film is like life: full of loose ends.