Tag: Catherine Deneuve

In defence of Catherine Deneuve and wordless seduction

Posted on by victorfraga

Sex is subversive by nature. It must not be regimented and sanitised. “Excuse me, madam, may I please insert my penis is your vagina, but only if it’s not too much trouble, of course” isn’t the sexiest introduction to intercourse. Seduction and flirting often preclude words. Consent can be negotiated in many ways, not necessarily with onerous and unambiguous words. The nuances of sexual attraction often rely on ambiguity. Yet the Swedish seem to disagree. They plan to pass a new law requiring “explicit” and “clearly-worded consent before sexual contact.

This is part of a much broader movement against the rape culture, which is pervasive in many societies and cultures, and the movie industry is no exception. Harvey Weinstein and many others are a testament that women have been consistently abused, and their horrific predicament has been dismissed as futile for too long. But then came the backlash. From women even. Yesterday Catherine Deneuve (pictured below in Bunuel’s 1967 classic Belle de Jour), Catherine Millet and 98 other French female artists stoked fire into the discussion by publishing an open letter defending a man’s right to “hit on women”.

I’m a gay man, and – while of course I agree that the rape culture must not be tolerated – I’m also in agreement with Deneuve and Millet. We must choose our weapons more carefully. There is a lingering puritanism and sexphobia in some of the arguments proposed by the #MeToo movement. We must be careful not to radicalise the movement, therefore opening another can of worms. A woman in the US has recently claimed harassment after a man said “hello”. Plus the anti-rape rhetoric is being used for very questionable political purposes. In Germany, Austria and Scandinavia, the far-right is using rape allegations in order to stigmatise Syrian refugees. Norway is providing compulsory anti-rape courses to male and Muslim refugees. This fuels misandrism, Islamophobia and xenophobia. Three ugly birds out of the cage, all at once.

This is why I would like to take the opportunity to celebrate our freedom to flirt and to have sex. We must not monitor and regulate seduction. Ultimately, if Sweden does approve the law requiring “clearly-worded” consent, the sex that Alma (Bibi Andersson) describes in Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (1966) – in what’s often described as “the most erotic scene in the history of cinema” – could be made illegal. Read it yourself below and reach your own conclusion. Nothing in it is clearly-worded. The women barely speak and the men never open their mouths. And that’s how sex and seduction in cinema should remain: dirty, nuanced and enigmatic.

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“I went to the beach on my own. It was a warm and nice day.There was another girl there. She had come from another island because our beach was sunnier and more secluded. We lay there completely naked and sunbathed… dozing off and on, putting sunscreen on. We had silly straw hats on. Mine had a blue ribbon. I lay there… looking out at the landscape, at the sea and the sun. It was kind of funny.

Suddenly I saw two figures on the rocks above us. They hid and peeped out occasionally. “Two boys are looking at us,” I said to the girl. Her name was Katarina. “Let them look,” she said, and turned over on her back. I had a funny feeling. I wanted to jump up and put my suit on, but I just lay there on my stomach with my bottom in the air, unembarrassed, totally calm. And Katarina was next to me with her breasts and big thighs. She was just giggling. I noticed that the boys were coming closer. They just stood there looking at us. I noticed they were very young.

The boldest one approached us… and squatted down next to Katarina. He pretended to be busy picking his toes. I felt very strange. Suddenly Katarina said to him, “Hey, you, why don’t you come over here?” Then she took his hand and helped him take off his jeans and shirt. Suddenly he was on top of her. She guided him in and held his butt. The other boy just sat and watched. I heard Katarina whisper in the boy’s ear and laugh. His face was right next to mine. It was red and swollen. Suddenly I turned and said, “Aren’t you coming to me, too?” And Katarina said, “Go to her now.” He pulled out of her and… then fell on top of me, completely hard. He grabbed my breast. It hurt so much!

I was overwhelmed and came almost immediately. Can you believe it? I wanted to tell him to be careful not to make me pregnant… when he came. I felt something I’d never felt in my life… how his sperm was shooting inside me. He held my shoulders and bent backwards. I came over and over. Katarina lay there watching and held him from behind.

After he came, she took him in her arms and used his hand to make herself come. When she came, she screamed like a banshee. The three of us started laughing. We called to the other boy, who was sitting on the slope. His name was Peter. He seemed confused and was shivering there in the sunshine. Katarina unbuttoned his pants and started to play with him. And when he came, she took him in her mouth. He bent down and kissed her back. She turned around, took his head in both hands, and gave him her breast. The other boy got so excited that he and I started all over again. It was just as nice as before. Then we had a swim and went our separate ways.”

*All the images on this article are from Bibi Andersson in Persona, except for Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour.

All that Divides Us (Tout nous Sépare)

Posted on by victorfraga

Catherine Deneuve has conquered audiences with her long and thick blonde hairdo and a cigarette permanently attached to her hand. Chanel and L’Oréal made her a glamorous, wealthy and classy woman, but she’s best remembered for her dirty work in Repulsion (Polanski, 1965) and in Belle de Jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967). Once a dirty woman, always a dirty woman. Welcome to All that Divides Us.

Deneuve comes back in great style as Louise, a protective mother who lives in a bourgeois house on the coast of France. Her daughter Julia (Diane Kruger) is a sexy self-destructive woman, helplessly in love with a drug-dealing jerk called Rodolpho. Julia had a terrible accident and her body still bears many scars. She’s also handicapped and addicted to tranquilisers, as well as other drugs. Her gloomy and tragic personality doesn’t seem to ruin her sex drive. Julia is a strong character and she is fully in the control of Rodolpho’s fetish for disabled people. She is so strong that she violently kills him.

All That Divides Us is a nerve-wrecking film. Its unrelenting pace is never boring. It sits somewhere between Amores Perros (Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2001) and Crash (David Cronenberg, 2004). We see from the very beginning that frenzy is the film’s leitmotif. Its speed contrasts with the lifestyle of a small French city in the coast. Looking at quiet sea is supposed to evoke calmness, but here it suggests disturbance.

The male director Thierry Klifa reveals his female character’s internal contradictions: women are both strong and vulnerable. They have a predisposition for both kindness and violence. Louise fears going into a building in the poor area of her town. She has some sort of contempt for people and dirty stairs, but she is capable of revealing the most tender feeling to the man who blackmails her. Julia, instead, looks fragile when she walks, but she is a powerful hunter when she decides to find a man for intercourse. Klifa’s women are far from being hysterical; their presence says it all without words.

After the killing of Rodolpho, Louise can’t help but to protect her daughter. Defending Julia means getting involved in a drug-dealing business. The relationship between mother and daughter must prevail above the chaos surrounding them. Louise is blackmailed by a former employee, the real-life French rapper Nekfeu. Nefkeu performs well both on stage and in the cinema. He is a sort of European Donnie Brasco.

This is a film with a surprising social message. It is not judgmental at all. There is no moral. Drug addicted, criminals or murderers are not punished with “justice”. They are not judged in any sphere. They are not the clever ones that escape from prison either. They are like you and me. Klifa portrays the clash of classes in a way that conversation and affection prevails over social differences.

All That Divides Us is showing at Rome International Film Festival. Perhaps a risqué pick for an audience more used to feel-good movies.

The Midwife (Sage Femme)

Posted on by victorfraga

A few months ago at a Q&A event in Manchester’s HOME Cinema, The Levelling’s director Hope Dickson Leach referenced modern urban French cinema as a specific focus of hers when approaching the working middle-class on film. Their cinema is distinct and ignores the clichéd depictions of class that we so regularly witness on this side of the channel, typified in an upcoming Downtown Abbey big screen outing (yet to be filmed). Further, such contemporary French language directors like Mia Hansen-Løve, Eugène Green and the Dardenne Brother solidify Dickson Leach comments of stories and characters who are placed in real and tactile class structures.

Naturally a continuation of the template created by Truffaut, Godard, Demy etc during the French Nouvelle Vague, this specific type of filmmaking is similarly maintained in Martin Provost’s latest endeavour, The Midwife. Despite depicting the realities of modern working class life in France, Provost’s own script lets down the committed performance of two heavyweight actresses, Catherine Deneuve and Catherine Frot.

Frot is the middle-aged midwife Claire who must accept that her birth centre unit will close due to cost-cutting measures in Paris’s suburbs. Opening in blackness with the diegetic sounds of childbirth, Grégoire Hetzel’s camera then revels itself at an inmate angle, capturing the very moment of delivery. Claire’s compassion towards her patients is clear in her softly spoken words during the frantic moments of birth. A veteran of midwifery, she is an example to all in her healthy, non-drinking lifestyle.

Away from her job, Claire enjoys spending time at her tranquil allotment tending to her plants and vegetables. At her peaceful escape, a neighbouring gardener Paul (Olivier Gourmet) takes a loving interest. Alongside her son, who is at medical school, her insular life does not appear to bother her. One day after returning home from her busy working day, she receives a voice message from an old family friend of Claire’s father, Beatrice (Catherine Deneuve). Glamorous yet decadent, this elderly woman has secrets and old ghosts haunting her soul. Sidestepping any spoilers of the film’s narrative, which Provost’s script is eager to goad, their relationship is not what it appears at face value.

A disparity between the two women is unearthed in their interactions; Beatrice gambles, drinks red wine, smokes and eats red meat like a carnivorous dinosaur. As suggested, Claire lives a tranquil life, eating vegetables, refusing to drink or spraying her plants with chemical pesticides. This point of reference is only mentioned by Provost in a throwaway line of dialogue, a generational gap which could have taken centre-stage. Scenarios such as these feel rushed and are never allowed to flow naturally in line with these characters. They feel like a ploy from the director/ screenwriter to create tension between the two women, still such divisions seldom amount to any of notable importance.

Likewise, the poor screenwriting is reflected in a doppelganger moment between the appearance of Claire’s son and her father, whom Beatrice evidently loved. The ghosts of the past rarely impact the present in any noteworthy fashion. The lacklustre nature of such events leads one to recall better films as 45 Years (Andrew Haigh, 2015) and Things to Come (Mia Hansen-Løve, 2016), which deal with the ghosts of the past and life in greater philosophical and thoughtful style and depth.

With notably cameos from Karidja Touré of Girlhood (Céline Sciamma, 2014) and Pauline Etienne, one cannot help feel that even if such actresses were developed further into the script, Provost’s inability to engage and sustain and audience’s interest would fail Toure and Etienne’s majestic screen qualities. Granted Deneuve and Frot’s performances cannot be questioned in terms of their commitment, however the poor screenwriting deters one from truly engaging in the text. Possibly perfect viewing for those nostalgic midwifes who attend the tea and biscuit screenings….

For a piece of modern film as profound as the attempted plot of The Midwife, I can only suggest Things to Come and the greatness of Queen Isabelle Huppert. Admittedly it passes the famous Bechdel Test with flying colours, still it lacks a insightful impact one would hope for when dealing with life itself. The Midwife is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, July 7th.