Monday, April 25, 2011

SUNDRY PRINCESSES


Why Bertrand Tavernier is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers is a mystery to me. It must have something to do with the vagaries of distribution, the absence of hype, the obtuseness of reviewers and audiences, perhaps even of festival directors and museum curators.

His oeuvre is varied and extensive, his scope prodigious and vision acute. Google him and you’ll get at least some sense of his achievement, which began spectacularly with The Clockmaker and has continued through his most recent offering, The Princess of Montpensier, for which, as usual, Tavernier collaborated on the screenplay.

The film is based on the first novel by Madame de La Fayette (1662), whose later La Princesse de Cleves (1678) is the first authentic French novel, a psychological masterpiece filmed more than once. Her initial fiction, La Princesse de Montpensier, though not quite so remarkable, provided Tavernier with a more than serviceable story for a major film.

In the history-film genre, Tavernier accomplishes something few if any directors have managed so well: shooting not just a plot, but also a sense of what ordinary life in a given period—in this case 17th-century France—was like. As in W. H. Auden’s famous poem about the Dutch painting of the fall of Icarus (which shows everyday life going on in other parts of the canvas), Tavernier gives us humdrum and humble activities behind or alongside of the main action, making that very action more embedded in reality, more believable.

Nor is Tavernier loath to repeat things that bear repetition, such as horses ridden by various riders at breakneck speed on diverse occasions that punctuate the film, having the same validity as reckless car rides running through movies about today’s life. It immerses us more thoroughly in the era in question.

Though this is not meant to be a movie review—and isn’t—some Tavernier strengths must be stressed. So the fine performances in even minor parts, though I will mention only one of the major ones: Lambert Wilson, splendid as the Comte de Chabannes, the Princess’s tutor in the remote castle to which her husband confined her, ostensibly as protection from the raging religious wars. Although noble and wise, circumspect in handling with philosophical detachment the Princess’s various involvements (or avoidance thereof) with aristocrats and royalty, Chabannes himself eventually succumbs to his pupil’s charms in heartbreakingly moving scenes.

Again, although this is a story of romantic passions, we get no gratuitous dabbling in sex. There is, remarkably, only one rather discreet bedroom scene, yet all that needs to be shown about the sundry amours is magisterially conveyed. And, as usual in Tavernier’s films, cinematography, editing, music, camera placement and movement are exemplarily managed. Best of all, though the director is clearly in constant charge, his control is not ostentatiously foisted on the viewer, but chastely subsumed by the action.

Tavernier has turned seventy, but The Princess of Montpensier  is informed as much by youthful zest as by mature judgment. And though it is a work of fiction, we feel that no documentary could have conjured up historic reality with greater accuracy and suasion.

Speaking of princesses, here comes the wedding of Britain’s Prince William and Kate Middleton, his commoner bride. Of course a royal wedding is of some interest, especially when the bride is not of royal or even blue blood—a pure case of romantic love rather than political expediency, more like a fairy tale in fact.

Even so, isn’t all this frantic American media coverage indicative of something beyond the obvious? Does it not mean that a democratic republic leaves its beneficiaries famished for something more regal? Does it not play out almost as soul-satisfyingly as the legend of King Copetua and the Beggar Maid? Is it not as if a Hollywood happy ending were turning real, the very thing that encourages hopefulness in the drabbest of lives? Not that we can all turn into Prince William or Kate Middleton, but that we live in a world in which, amid economic crises and fighting all over the map, romance of this kind is still possible?

I myself am fascinated by reading that Kate becomes empowered by marriage to choose whether to become princess or duchess. Princess is manifestly grander, but duchess allows for more freedom. This is the kind of dilemma dreams are made of—isn’t a current movie (which I haven’t seen) entitled Win Win?

Be it mentioned here that Englishwomen are not, by and large, noted for their comeliness. It took a great deal of questionable taste or stubborn make believe to consider Princess Di, let alone Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, pretty, to say nothing of beautiful. Conversely, Kate does look undeniably good.

So this is the new TV reality show, with American networks fiercely outbidding one another to engage photogenic Englishwomen capable of reporting on the royal wedding. If there is this much hullabaloo about their mere nuptials, just think what it will be like when the couple get lost somewhere in the jungle with no one around  to rescue them except the television crew.

13 comments:

  1. "Why Bertrand Tavernier is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers is a mystery to me."

    A dull temperament, I would say, pervasive predictability, assertive schoolmarmyness, inclination to take quality for art. All of which one associates with the "history-film genre," that "humbug" as Henry James called the historical novel. Tavernier does it well, I suppose. As did MGM.

    Also, however different each from the other is, an Antonioni, Bergman, Fellini, Godard, Kurosowa, Peckinpah, Renoir, Welles, has some characteristic as defining as a birthmark that makes us say, "Ah, a Truffaut!" As we might say of de Kooning, Beckett, Bartok, many others. Tavernier, no. Seeing a film of his, like seeing a film by David Lean, reading Mann, hearing Bruckner, feels like homework, one thing art never is.

    Mystery solved.

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  2. "It took a great deal of questionable taste or stubborn make believe to consider Princess Di, let alone Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, pretty, to say nothing of beautiful."

    I always thought that Princess Di looked like a remarkably beautiful horse.

    But there are some fetching English actresses, I'd say: Kate Beckinsale, the (slightly) younger Emma Thompson, and Saffron Burrows (whose astonishingly ravishing cheekbones will be quite a find -- and even more vividly pronounced -- for archeologists of the future).

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  3. John Simon wondered: "Why Bertrand Tavernier is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers is a mystery to me."

    Joe Carlson replied:

    "A dull temperament, I would say, pervasive predictability, assertive schoolmarmyness, inclination to take quality for art. All of which one associates with the 'history-film genre', that 'humbug' as Henry James called the historical novel. Tavernier does it well, I suppose. As did MGM."

    What you call 'dull temperament' is actually clarity, honesty, love of truth, and restraint in order to make room for reality.
    What do you mean by 'pervasive predictability'? As Simon remarked, Tavernier has been a director of wide-ranging interests who didn't make the same film over and over. If you've seen some Ozu films, you know what an Ozu film looks like. If you've seen two films by Antonioni, you get the idea of what he was generally about. But Tavernier worked on various topics in different styles.
    What 'assertive schoolmarminess'? I think you mean John Sayles or Robert Redford. Or the 'historical' films of Spielberg. Tavernier, I would argue, is close to someone like Imamura. He has genuine courage as an artist to probe deep and unflinchingly confront conventional wisdom. There was little that was 'schoolmarmish' about Judge and the Assassin or L627.

    "Also, however different each from the other is, an Antonioni, Bergman, Fellini, Godard, Kurosowa, Peckinpah, Renoir, Welles, has some characteristic as defining as a birthmark that makes us say, 'Ah, a Truffaut!'"

    Yes, Tavernier has been less distinct as an 'auteur', but that was less a sign of artistic insufficiency than evidence of a man of great curiosity and erudition who didn't want to be pigeonholed as 'this' or 'that' kind of director. Like Clouzot, Tavernier wanted to explore and experiment with new possibilities--stylistic and technical--as he progressed. This lack of signature style makes him less mythic and god-like among diretors, but it also makes him perhaps the most humanistic of directors since humanity has so many faces and facets.

    "As we might say of de Kooning, Beckett, Bartok, many others. Tavernier, no. Seeing a film of his, like seeing a film by David Lean, reading Mann, hearing Bruckner, feels like homework, one thing art never is."

    Lean made some great films. I highly doubt if Lawrence of Arabia and Dr. Zhivago were big hits because they were like 'homework'. They were lots of fun. And I think most people will find Bruckner more appealing than Bartok, who was a more 'intellectual' composer.
    And I think most moviegoers will have more fun watching an average Tavernier film than one by Antonioni.to be closer to the verse of life.

    "Mystery solved."

    Hardly.

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  4. Need to pay attention in class, Pauline.

    Irrelevant that Tavernier has made many fine films displaying his multifarious talents, his wide-ranging sympathies. Not the point. Simon's question was why Tavernier "is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers?" Answer: doesn't belong. Or even among the greatest French filmmakers. Not one of his films is "up there" with THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC, THE ITALIAN STRAW HAT, THE RULES OF THE GAME, THE CHILDREN OF PARADISE, FORBIDDEN GAMES, THE WAGES OF FEAR, SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER, THE FIRE WITHIN, MASCULINE/FEMININE, or a dozen others.

    Because Tavernier does little or nothing wrong, people think he does much or everything right. Not so. Talented, yes. Among the world’s greatest filmmakers, no.

    "Auteur," Pauline? No sprechen sie Deutsch.

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  5. You must be some kind of fool. 'Judge and the Assassin' and 'Life and Nothing But' are among the best films ever made. I'm still trying to figure them out.

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  6. If watching Tavernier films is like "homework," then homework is far more edifying, enlightening and enjoyable than I ever remembered it being in school.

    "The Clockmaker," "Let Joy Reign Supreme," "The Judge and the Assassin," "A Sunday in the Country," "Life and Nothing But," "The Undeclared War," "Captain Conan" and "Safe Conduct" are all glorious films that I can watch over and over again.

    Tavernier is one of the great French filmmakers. Have you seen some of the offal Renoir shoveled onto the screen at the end of his career? And Tavernier eclipses Truffaut simply because Truffaut never made anything memorable after his first three films while Tavernier has been going strong for 40 years; as for Godard, the less said the better.

    Joe, if you think that Tavernier films don't have that "birthmark," then you haven't been been watching too closely. And if you would rather be led by the nose by film people who you presume know better, then you can have your "pantheon." But any film pantheon that doesn't include Tavernier is one I'd rather not be associated with.

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  7. "Why Bertrand Tavernier is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers is a mystery to me."

    Don't try to buffalo us, Kevin. Help Simon solve his mystery. Tavernier Is NOT considered one of the world's greatest filmmakers. That's a fact. Why? Simon is baffled. My solution: Tavernier is not up there because he DOESN'T belong up there. Your solution is -- what exactly? You don't recognize the fact Simon does -- though he clearly takes issue with it -- or you recognize it but reject that fact because you know best and everyone else is a "fool" as Pauline would have it?

    No. A fool is someone who makes an assertion but fails to make the argument to prove it. Case closed.

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  8. International Scoop!
    Look To The Left!
    First Official Photo Of
    PAULINE SARRIS!

    Yep, picture's worth a thousand words.

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  9. Two belated afterthoughts:

    I regret to say I have never seen a Tavernier film, and I hope I won't regret seeing one (as I intend) in the near future. A little pause is given, however, in this one observation Mr. Simon makes about Tavernier's style:

    In the history-film genre, Tavernier accomplishes something few if any directors have managed so well: shooting not just a plot, but also a sense of what ordinary life in a given period—in this case 17th-century France—was like. As in W. H. Auden’s famous poem about the Dutch painting of the fall of Icarus (which shows everyday life going on in other parts of the canvas), Tavernier gives us humdrum and humble activities behind or alongside of the main action, making that very action more embedded in reality, more believable.

    While ostensibly there is nothing objectionable, and everything admirable, about such a directorial style, more often than not I have found myself indistinctly annoyed by the attention to everyday details in history-films -- the creaking of wagons as they roll over unpaved and muddy roads, the ostentatiously and oh-so-accurately outdated attire of all the milling extras in the background, the precisely apposite placing in the camera's eye of implements of old technology and trades: it all seems so... staged; and for some reason I haven't yet figured out, wearying. Just once, I'd like to see a history-film that doesn't go out of its way to flaunt its period with a thousand-and-one, no doubt impeccably researched, historical minutiae upon which the eye is meant to feast and become historically satisfied. I thus hope that Tavernier does not annoy me in this way. (Now, when a gifted director like Terry Gilliam crams his film with a dizzyingly kaleidoscopic cornucopia of euphuistic details in the history department, as he did in the wonderful The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen, I found myself neither wearied nor annoyed, but deliriously tickled. Perhaps the difference for me was that Gilliam's serious attention to historical detail was adulterated with an eye ever glinting with madness.)

    My second afterthought is wholly unrelated -- not only to my afterthought before, but also to Mr. Simon's whole essay -- and concerns his title, Sundry Princesses. It reminded me of a little-known detail about the many vagaries of our current predicament with Islam. It seems there is this German scholar of ancient Middle Eastern languages who, naturally, goes by a pseudonym (to stave off, of course, some crazed Mohammedan from killing him), "Christoph Luxenberg", and this German scholar has been contending, and trying to publish on the basis of his research, that (in the broader context of demonstrating the criminal blasphemy -- that in Islamic law merits capital punishment -- that the Koran is written not in the eternal Arabic of Allah's mind but rather in an unremarkably normal amalgamation of Arabic and non-Arabic languages) the "seventy-two virgins" promised to Muslim men who "kill and die in the path of Allah" (cf. Koran 9:111) are not really virgins at all. Rather, the Arabic word, houri (so Luxenberg claims), might more plausibly mean "white raisins".

    Thus, the sundry princesses of Islamic Paradise are really so many sun-dried raisins.

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  10. You, dear author sir, are the only person I have encountered who has ever mentioned King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid outside of the sublimely great Mapp & Lucia novels. Lucia would be proud.

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  11. Why Mr. Simon says that the fact that Bertrand Tavernier is not considered up there with the world’s greatest filmmakers is a mystery to him is, in fact, a mystery to me. Having read all of Mr. Simon's texts on film criticisms, often more than once, I never took away from them that he considered Tavernier to be any more than a good and sometimes very good filmmaker. Tavernier did not receive from Mr. Simon the same level of praise that he has given to Bergman, Fellini, Antonioni, or, more recently, Troell, Beresford, Schepisi, and Malick (at his best).

    In short, the great John Simon never before considered Tavernier to be a great filmmaker, let alone one of the world's greatest filmmakers. Perhaps that solves the mystery as to why Tavernier has never before been thought of as such, at least by a critic that matters.

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  12. Doug, if you've really read all of Mr. Simon's criticism, you're not very perceptive. Check out his reviews of "The Clockmaker," "A Week's Vacation" and "A Sunday in the Country," for starters, and you'll see his high esteem for Tavernier and his films.

    And that Joe considers it a fact that Tavernier is not one of the world's greatest filmmakers shows that he's as clueless as I thought based on his previous posts.

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  13. Kevin, I've read John's reviews of those films you mention. Yes, he has held Tavernier in high esteem. But it is one thing to be considered a good or even very good filmmaker and a great one, let alone "one of the greatest" of this or any era. I respectfully submit that John has never called Tavernier a "great" filmmaker. Indeed, I wonder if John considers any filmmaker since the days of Fellini, Bergman, and Antonioni, and since perhaps Troell to be a truly great one. If I'm mistaken, please point me to those filmmakers and where in John's writings he so rated them.

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