Film review: THE DIARY OF A CHAMBERMAID (Luis Buñuel, 1964)

"She's more than just a servant, she's a rarity among women" is noted of Jeanne Moreau's Céléstine, a Parisian maid who comes to work for the eccentric Normandy family conprising of Monsieur Rabour, his daughter Madame Monteil and her husband Monsieur Rabour. 

She soon discovers the traits of each family member, from Monsieur Rabour's predilection for women in boots (and seeing them walk in said boots), to Monsier Monteil's womanizing with the maids, resulting from his wife finding sex too painful, and thus not enjoying it.

I'm halfway through my Luis Buñuel marathon and so far, not one of his films haven't revolved around, or at least had as an integral factor of it, sex. Le journal d'une femme de chambre is no different. Adapted from Jean Renoir's 1946 version, Buñuel and long time writing partner Jean-Claude Carrière clearly have a great time writing the dialogue for this film. 

Monsieur Rabour, in trying to deny his feelings of attractions for Céléstine, reasons more himself, than his wife, "She's from Paris. Who knows what diseases she has?". Ironically, when he later throws himself at her, she gets out of sleeping him by dodging him and exclaiming "I've got symphilis!". It's this combination of crude sex jokes and laugh-out-loud visual comedy (including a clumsy priest trying to kick a door down) that really brings out the humour as well as sexual politics in 30s French society.

However, Le journal d'une femme de chambre isn't principally a comedy. It's rather difficult to pinpoint exactly what genre it is, for, half way through the film, after 45 or so minutes of amusing vignettes, things turn sour when, just after she has quit her job due to the master of the house dying, it is revealed that someone else has died - Little Claire, the girl that Céléstine grew to care for. And not only that, she was raped and murdered. 

Céléstine, suspecting her fellow servant Joseph, an unrefined and fascist so-and-so of being the perpetrator, regains her post and seduces him in an attempt to get a confession out of him. And, once again, we re-enter a world where, as with Belle de jour and That Obscure Object of Affection, women must rely on their "other gifts" to get through in life.

As Céléstine Jeanne Moreau is a revelation. She was 36 when the film was made and, despite her skin looking a bit craggy, she is still very beautiful, her brunette hair tidy and stylish and her wide eyes watching carefully as she enters the microcosm of the French bourgeoisie, taking everything in unflinchingly. She's a strong, brave lady who believes that the ends justifies the means and isn't afraid to stick up for herself, no matter what the class/gender/wealth of the person who challenges her, and Moreau embodies the brave, ahead of her time character of Céléstine perfectly. 

As is now standard of Mr. Buñuel's films, the women come out a lot better than the men do - the man on the house, out of frustation of "only" being able to shag his supposedly frigid wife twice a week, fooled about with one of his ex-maids, and as such, had to pay her off 1500 Francs once she's knocked up. 

Céléstine refuses to give it up quite as easily.

Four out of the eight Luis Buñuel DVDs watched, and I'm still yet to find a stinker. Le journal d'une femme de chambre is far, far away from being a stinker - it's a deliciously witty attack on Western society that is as post-modern as it gets, and centres around one of the sassiest and most intriguing women in cinema. An absolute must.

8.5/10

8 Days of Buñuel, Day 3: That Obscure Object of Desire (Luis Buñuel, 1977)

That Obscure Object of Desire is a film about shagging. In it, aging wealthy man Mathieu (Fernando  Rey) has his eye turned by Conchita, his young, inexperienced maid. He tries to kiss her one night, and the next day, she's gone. Three months later, post-random hold-up, he sees her again and is again, besotted, plying her with cakes, coffee, frequent visits and sweet nothings. She in return gives him a coy kiss now and then, but resolutely refuses to give him what it is he wants the most: a good lay.

Hence, the film, wherein he tells the people in his train cabin about his long and treacherous blue-balled time with her, is a journey of the sexual politics between rich older man and poor young woman, who has to survive on her sexual prowess. In doing so, she's conniving, cold, mercenary, mean, and a massive cocktease, but, as demonstrated by the closing scenes, perhaps she was right to act like a complete cow.

Two different actresses play Conchita, one for the day and one for the night (drawing subconcious links with yesterday's title, Belle de jour, perhaps), and such is Mathieu's physical longing for Conchita that it is interesting that there are two women playing her, implying, perhaps, that he is so enamored that he doesn't even realise what's going on right in front of him. 

I thought the observations of the film were absolutely amazing, way ahead of their time; despite being made over 30 years ago, this film knows so much about men, women and our carnal desires. On Conchita refusing to lose her virginity, stating that he'd no longer love/respect her if she gave it up, Mathieu purrs suggestively "there are ways to pleasure a man without having sex", but Conchita, looking disgusted at the request, turns around and ignores him, without giving him so much as a handjob. 

My kinda girl, and my kinda movie. Boom.

9/10

8 Days of Buñuel, Day 2: Belle de jour (Luis Buñuel, 1967)

Séverine Serizy is a beautiful and elegant French housewife, married to esteemed doctor, but suffers from both sexually frigidity and frustration, the two sleeping in different beds and, after a year of marriage, Séverine still a virgin. One day, she hears about the local brothels and after a hesitant start, she takes up a job working as a prostitute there, under the alias of Belle de jour.



The Typical Overactor in a Buñuel Movie here is Pierre Clémenti as Marcel, a young spy who becomes besotted with Séverine leading to terrible consequences. Even though he's stunning to look at in a dirty sort of way, the scene in which he confronts Séverine contained some of the most camp acting I've seen, especially when he "span around in anger." Ho ho ho. However, this performer is probably my only serious foible with Belle de jour, which is otherwise an ethereal, sexy masterpiece. Catherine Deneuve is the epitome of icy fragility; kitted out in designer labels and haute couture, there is still a wild longing in her eyes, one that she cannot convey to her peers, and becomes unleashed only in the bedroom. From the very first scene, where husband and wife trot down a pathway led by two men on a horse and cart, only for the husband to command the two drivers to tie the wife up and rape her, we realise that Séverine dreams of sexual encounters wild and bizarre, yet cannot act them out. Here is a woman who has rape fantasies, yet can't even force herself to touch her husband. Dodgy, but her stint in the high-class brothel soon helps her act out her fantasies and release her inner inhibitions. And in every one of her (mis)adventures, Deneuve's perfect face is the mask of nuance and subtlety.

The blur between fantasy and reality is forever prevalent throughout the film, so much so that the various flashbacks to Séverine's childhood, random short episodic scenes make one question what is real and what is fiction. The ending remains a mystery but I have my own theories about it, and here is a film that says more about human desires and female repression than anything I see in the women's mags of today. Good work.

PS. I have a rather beautiful Belle je jour postcard that came free with the DVD, and I'm feeling kind so if anyone wants it, e-mail me your address and I'll post it to you. :)

8 Days of Buñuel - The Young One (Luis Buñuel, 1960)

The film begins with Traver, a man on the run from the law due to allegations that he's raped a woman, rowing to the shore, set to the spiritual song Sinner Man, sung by Leon Bibb. This being the 60s in the American South, him being a black man and the person crying rape being a white woman, the truth, that he in fact is innocent, therefore has little importance.

He reaches an Island which has only two inhabitants - thirteen year old Evvie, an uneducated and unruly child who is a bit too dim for her own good regarding the motives of the other inhabitant - gruff and "manly" beekeeper Miller, who used to work with her grandad before he dies at the start of the film.

On noticing that she can look quite pretty when she tidies herself up, Miller suddenly realises he wants to bung the young girl, developing boobs and all. And hence, we enter the murky territory of Luis Buñuel's film about racism and child abuse, adapted from Peter Matthiessen's short story "Travellin' Man".

The Young One is probably the least Buñuelesque film of his that I've seen. The storytelling is linear and straightforward, it's one of his two films set in English, plus the themes - of male animosity, personal grudges, racism et al feel more at home in a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood film. That said, one element prevalent in most of his films and present here is the tendency for at least one of the cast members to over-act hilariously.

Here, it is Key Meersman playing the blossoming girl Evalyn. Evvie herself is a likeable enough character - she, unlike her neighbour, is not racist, and treats Traver with respect and admiration. She is also a lamentably naive character, not putting up much of a fight when the sexually frustrated brute Miller comes to her bedside and takes her bunginity. That said, she is, as Kanye West might describe as be one of those girls who "what I love most she had so much soul", and as such, Evvie deserved a better performance than the bland and plain line-reading one Meersman gives.

The two male leads are significantly stronger, particularly Bernie Hamilton as the afflicted and much-maligned jazz clarinet who has been abused and ridiculed, but refuses to lose his pride.

In terms of the two key themes of the film - child abuse and racism, Buñuel does a far better job in his depiction of the latter than the former. People back then really were as single-minded as he shows them to be, and it's no coincidence that the three characters in the film that can see above skin colour - Evvie, the Reverend and Traver himself, are portrayed as the good guys. And, even then, prejudice still runs in the veins of the white people, albeit unwillingly - Evvie refers to the clarinet as a liquorice stick, suggesting that, if bought up in racist surroundings, making such comments might be an intrinsic thing.

The paedophilia issue is dealt with woefully. I fully expect the character of Miller to get his full comeuppance for taking advantage of an unknowing 13-year-old by dying, but I was disappointed. Whilst the "say no to racism" message is clear, the stance against paedophilia is a bit more dubious. "She's a woman," says Miller defensively, suggesting he has no repentance for debasing Evvie.

And for that, more than anything else wrong with the film, the highest grade I can give it, for all its strong dramatic moments and intelligent dialogue, is...

B+

Down to ride till the very end, is me and my boyfriend.

“But they made up their minds if all roads were
blind They wouldn’t give up ‘till they died.”

I'm guessing it's not me you want then, Dev?

Spotted: D and F, in North London, canoodling.





Still, they made a stunning on-screen duo, and are equally cute together off-screen. And the age gap of 5 years is just precious.