Film: La veuve de Saint-Pierre
Year of production: 2000
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: Park Circus
Certificate: 15
Running time: 112 mins
Director: Patrice Leconte
Starring: Juliette Binoche, Daniel Auteuil, Emir Kusturica, Michel Duchaussoy, Philippe Magnan
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France/Canada
Language: French
Review by: Gordon James Knox
La veuve de Saint-Pierre (The Widow Of Saint Pierre) is a period drama set on an isolated archipelago just off the Canadian cost in the days of the Second French Republic. Despite starring two of France’s most revered actors in Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil, the film didn’t exactly set the world alight upon its original 2000 release. A stranger film than might be anticipated, La veuve… contains enough originality and moments of genuine inspiration to steer clear of Merchant Ivory territory and justify this re-release.
In 1849 on the island of Saint-Pierre, fisherman Ariel Neel Auguste is sentenced to death after being found guilty of the murder of the fishing boat Captain, Coupard. Since there is no guillotine on the island, arrangements have to be made to ship one in from the island of Martinique. In the meantime, Neel is placed under the custody of Captain Jean, Captain of the troops in Saint-Pierre.
While spending his days in the cell waiting for the guillotine and executioner, Neel is invited by the Captain’s kindly wife, Pauline, to assist her in her garden. Soon a growing bond develops between Neel and Pauline, watched over approvingly by her trusting husband, as she teaches him to read and allows him the freedom to perform odd jobs around the island.
Less pleased with Neel’s rehabilitation and integration into the community of Saint-Pierre is the island’s governing elite. Anxious to push ahead with the execution as a means of asserting their authority and maintain their privileged status, they are only too aware of the increasing popularity of the man they condemned to death. Their fears are soon realised as the islanders voice their opposition and make it clear they will in no way assist in Neel’s execution.
Finally, the guillotine arrives, shortly followed by a destitute immigrant who the authorities pressure into accepting the role of executioner. Tensions soon come to a head, and when the Captain makes it clear to the island governor that he will refuse orders to shoot on the crowds in the event of a riot over Neel’s execution, the governor writes to Paris accusing him of sedition. It is not long before Jean’s life also hangs in the balance…
The original French title of the film loses something in translation. ‘La veuve’ does indeed mean ‘widow’ in French, but it is also 19th century slang for the guillotine, similar to the American slang of ‘widowmaker’. Thus, the ‘veuve’ of the title refers both to the execution device which has to be shipped onto the island as well as to the eventual fate of Pauline. A certain element of miscommunication carries over into the film: a period piece which attempts to act simultaneously as an indictment of capital punishment, as well as a portrayal of the lengths people will go to for love and their ideals, it doesn’t always come together in a convincing manner. If it was not for the fact the film was based on actual events preserved in court records, the story itself would seem scarcely believable.
Some of the film’s shortcomings may be explained by Patrice Leconte only assuming the role of director at the 11th hour (the original director, Alain Corneau, dropped out of the project just four months before shooting was due to start). Leconte has been quite open in admitting his main motive in accepting the project was the opportunity to work with Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil. Two of the brightest stars in French cinema, their performances are the main reasons to catch the film.
Only last year, Gerard Depardieu caused something of a stir in French film circles by launching a scathing attack on the acting abilities of Binoche, the darling of French cinema. Her performance here is unlikely to change the opinion of Depardieu, but it is another example of why many consider Binoche the finest actress of her generation. She gives yet another excellent, accomplished performance; everything below the surface, in stolen sideward glances, in slight but telling gestures. Resolutely unspectacular, so naturalistic and subtle that you don’t realise how much she is actually communicating until afterwards. It appears simple, only because Binoche’s talent makes it appear so effortless.
Autuiel’s performance is equally fine, and even more low-key, so carefully contained that, at times he appears almost unhinged. And perhaps there is something in this. The theme of sexual desire verging on obsession was explored by the director in his earlier Monsieur Hire, Le Mari de la coiffeuse and Le Parfum d'Yvonne, and it’s definitely at work here. One society lady, noting the way the Captain watches his wife, remarks to her companion, “He devours his lady with his eyes.” These society ladies often provide astute observations, a generally reliable chorus to the action of the story (an example of the film’s subtle unconventionality). The companion responds to that comment with the claim that their own husbands would be similarly attentive should their wives take up a handsome burly protégé for themselves. The juxtaposition of a scene where Pauline teaches Neel to read, their growing attraction to one another quite palpable, with a particularly impassioned love scene between the Captain and his wife seems to confirm this. Is the rehabilitation of Neel simply a form of foreplay, unconscious or not, for the couple; a testing of their love? Is this the significance of Pauline’s sensuous red dresses, the dark carmine so conspicuous among the washed out greys and subdue hues of the cinematography: a dangerous game both are playing that will eventually result in the shedding of blood?
This ambiguity makes for interesting viewing, but it does tend to clash with the fatalistic nature of the film and the way it plays out as pure tragedy in the classical tradition. While some may find the ambiguity and shades of grey enthralling, others may see confusion and a lack of focus in the presentation of the film’s main message and themes, compounded by the filmmaker’s predilection for offering up questions rather than answers. The relationship between the Captain and his wife is successful (mainly due to the nuanced performances of Autuiel and Binoche), but the character of Neel is less convincing. Since the director focuses mainly on his rehabilitation, there is little effort given to explain the inexplicable murder at the beginning of the film. “They aren’t punishing the man they sentenced,” Pauline proclaims. The only problem is what we see on screen doesn’t quite back this up. Neel does not really change, since we know little about him prior to his imprisonment; he is essentially portrayed as a gentle giant, essentially good, even saint-like, forever putting the needs of others before his own (even at the risk of his own life). None of this is the fault of Emir Kusturica (better known as a director in his own right, he is quietly impressive in his acting debut), but can be attributed to significant gaps in the initial development of his character. A more interesting question raised by the film but never truly explored is that of the capability of ‘good’ people to commit ‘evil’ acts. The same themes of crime and punishment, rehabilitation, redemption and responsibility touched upon in Le veuve were explored with far greater sensitivity and thoughtfulness in Tim Robbin’s Dead Man Walking. In its desire to hammer home its anti-capital punishment stance, La veuve sacrifices psychology and crucially its overall impact.
La veuve de Saint-Pierre is a good film, although far from a great one. It’s handsomely shot, with fine set design and costumes, and excellent performances from two of France’s greatest actors. Ultimately, though, it’s let down by some muddied thinking and a lack of substantial depth behind its ideas. An intriguing, if somewhat frustrating film.
No comments:
Post a Comment