|Director: Jean-Pierre Melville |
|Screenplay: Jean Cocteau (based on his novel)
|Stars: Nicole Stéphane (Elisabeth), Edouard Dermithe (Paul), Renée Cosima (Dargelos / Agathe), Jacques Bernard (Gerard), Melvyn Martin (Michael), Maria Cyliakus (The Mother), Jean-Marie Robain (Headmaster), Maurice Revel (Doctor), Jean Cocteau (Narrator)
|MPAA Rating: NR
|Year of Release: 1950
Les enfants terribles is fascinating primarily as an unexpected meeting of two brilliant, but vastly different minds: the iconic independent French filmmaker Jean-Pierre Melville, who is best known for his numerous crime films, including Bob le flambeur (1956), Le samouraï (1967), Le cercle rouge (1970), and Un flic (1972), and the poet and painter Jean Cocteau, whose own films, including Blood of a Poet (1930) and Beauty and the Beast (1946), were avant-garde and experimental, resting in the gray zone between dreams and reality.
The film was based on a 1929 novel by Cocteau (probably his most famous), and Melville directed it as if Cocteau were behind the camera, even if that actually happened on only one day of shooting when Melville was too sick to work. In this respect, Les enfants terribles seems to be much more a Cocteau film than a Melville film, even though Melville maintained control during production and, at one point, reportedly had Cocteau removed from the set because he was too distracting. Yet, even if the dreamlike atmosphere and patent unreality of Les enfants terribles doesn’t immediately evoke the hard stylings of Melville, we can see traces of his influence, particularly in the brutally fatalistic ending that would become a key component of his later films.
The story concerns the warped relationship between a brother and sister. The brother, Paul (Edouard Dermithe, Cocteau’s then-lover who was cast despite his limited acting ability at Cocteau’s insistence), is several years younger than his sister, Elisabeth (Nicole Stéphane), and in many ways more conventionally feminine. Early in the film, Paul is hit in the chest by a snowball flung by Dargelos (Renée Cosima), a recurring character in Cocteau’s work who represents schoolboy virility at its most untamed. For reasons that are never fully explained, this incident causes Paul great physical damage, and he spends the rest of the film in a state of weakness, usually bed-ridden even if he frequently shows no overt signs of sickness. Elisabeth tends to him just as she does their invalid mother (Maria Cyliakus), which makes her a sister and a mother figure to Paul, thus further complicating their already disturbingly incestuous relationship.
The early passages in the film seem rough and unfocused; it’s hard to see where the story is going, even as we are consistently unsettled by Paul and Elisabeth’s interactions, which often catch their friend Gerard (Jacques Bernard) in the middle. The plot starts coming into better focus in the final third with the introduction of Agathe (also played by Renée Cosima), a young model who comes to live with Paul and Elisabeth and becomes a crucial new addition to the romantic entanglements that have already ensnared Gerard and the two siblings. It is at this point that the characters’ traits fully cohere and we recognize just how weak and easily manipulated Paul is and how remorselessly treacherous Elisabeth is.
As a fantastical psychological study, Les enfants terribles has a captivating quality, with the action seemingly taking place in an alternate universe composed primarily of enclosed spaces (the only time it feels truly open is during a dream sequence). This gives the film a starkly claustrophobic feeling, even when scenes take place in enormous, almost empty rooms, which reflects the narrative’s insularity (when Elisabeth marries at one point, she is immediately widowed, suggesting that death and disorder awaits anyone from the “outside” who gets too close).
Melville, who was directing only his second film, but had already established his complete independence from the French studio system, seems far more interested in the film’s visual textures than narrative coherence or flow (the cinematography is by Henri Decaë, who would become central to the French New Wave). His camera flows throughout the film, gliding to the music of Bach and Vivaldi. This fluidity of movement is often juxtaposed with static shots in which Melville positions the camera behind objects, which gives them an uneasy voyeuristic quality. He also frequently allows bars and poles and other lines to segment the frame, producing a sense of fragmentation and distance between characters.
Unfortunately, the film’s more poetic visual tendencies are frequently undermined by the unnecessary narration written and performed by Cocteau himself, which informs us of emotions and psychological states that are mostly evident on-screen (sometimes, as in the climactic dream sequence, Cocteau literally narrates the action as if describing it to a blind viewer). With few exceptions, the narration feels like an intrusion, a stating of the obvious that undercuts the lyricism. For a film that is filled with ambiguities, paradoxical moments, shifting emotional states, and constant dislocation, the directness of the narration feels like either a horribly misplaced mistake or the filmmakers’ overcompensation for poetic license.
|Les enfants terribles Criterion Collection DVD|
French Dolby Digital 1.0 Monaural
Audio commentary by writer, film critic, and journalist Gilbert Adair
“About the Film” featurette
Video interview with Nicole Stéphane
Around Jean Cocteau (2003), a short video by filmmaker Noel Simsolo discussing Cocteau and Melville's creative relationship
Gallery of behind-the-scenes stills
Insert booklet featuring a new essay by critic Gary Indiana, a tribute by Stéphane, an excerpt from Rui Nogueira’s Melville on Melville, and drawings by Cocteau
|Distributor||The Criterion Collection|
|Release Date||July 24, 2007 |
|VIDEO & AUDIO|
|Les enfants terribles is presented in a nice new transfer taken from a 35mm fine-grain master positive. The slightly windowboxed image betrays few hints of age or damage after digital restoration, and although it appears slightly soft at times, there is no loss of detail. Blacks are generally good, and the contrast gives the image a beautiful filmlike look. The monaural soundtrack, which was transferred at 24-bit from an optical soundtrack print, is strong, with clear dialogue and excellent reproduction of the classical music score.|
|Writer and film critic Gilbert Adair, whose novel The Innocents (which was filmed as The Dreamers in 2003 by Bernardo Bertolucci) bears some striking similarities to Les enfants terribles, provides an engaging, informative audio commentary. Adair has done quite a bit of research and supplies excellent background information about Melville, Cocteau, and others while also offering pointed analysis of the film itself. “About the Film” is a 15-minute featurette made in 2003 that includes interviews with producer Carole Weisweiller, actor Jacques Bernard, and assistant director Claude Pinoteau. The primary topic of discussion is the film’s true “auteur,” with Pinoteau arguing that Cocteau was the driving artistic force and that Melville was simply a “technical director,” while Bernard defends Melville’s contributions, arguing that he was in control of the production and the editing. This question is taken up again in the 16-minute featurette “Around Jean Cocteau,” in which director Noël Simsolo follows film scholar Dominique Païni and critic Jean Narboni as they walk through an enormous installation of Cocteau’s work at the Centre Pompidou in Paris. In a 12-minute video interview recorded in 2003 for the French TV channel TV5 Monde to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Cocteau’s death, actress Nicole Stéphane waxes rhapsodic about the famed artist. This disc also includes a theatrical trailer and a gallery of behind-the-scenes stills. The insert booklet contains a new essay by critic Gary Indiana, a tribute by Stéphane, and an excerpt from Rui Nogueira’s Melville on Melville, as well as original sketches of scenes from the book done by Cocteau in 1934.
Overall Rating: (3)
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