It's difficult to view Belle de Jour in 1995 and get a balanced
historical perspective on the film, which was originally released twenty-eight
years ago. Recently, there have been a slew of productions probing issues of
identity and double lives. Indeed, this has become a favorite province of
independent film makers, probably because it's such a rich field. However, back
in 1967, the path was less frequently trodden, and Luis Bunuel's
serious-yet-satirical picture helped pave the way for many stories yet to come.
Today, Belle de Jour is as effective as ever. With a ravishing
Catherine Deneuve in the title role, this film is a study of contrasts. The main
character is at once glacial yet erotic -- a wife by night and prostitute by
day. She is two different people in one body, but Bunuel underlines the truth
that no person can effectively compartmentalize facets of their life. Crossovers
are inevitable, and the harder we try to repress one segment of who we are, the
more likely it is to assert itself -- forcefully.
Bunuel also pokes fun at the morals of society by depicting what goes on
behind closed doors at the brothel where Deneuve's Severine spends her
afternoons. An internationally-known gynecologist begs to be punished. A
businessman frolics with three girls at one time. Then there are Severine's
erotic fantasies, which easily become entangled with her surreal secondary life.
In fact, her misguided relationship with a gangster (Pierre Clementi) arises out
of a hidden desire to flirt with danger.
All along, Severine's husband Pierre (Jean Sorel) is blissfully ignorant of
his wife's daytime job. He loves her, but wishes she would be more sexually
attentive. Meanwhile, a friend (Michel Piccoli) pursues Severine tirelessly --
until he learns her secret. At that point, the chase loses its allure. After
all, where's the fun if the "forbidden fruit" isn't quite so forbidden?
Much of the film works because of the capable acting of Deneuve. The scenes
where she first approaches the brothel, tentative and uncertain yet undeniably
intrigued, are perfectly realized. Deneuve's performance allows the viewer to
feel -- not merely sense -- the strange mixture of seduction and repulsion that
prostitution holds for a woman in her position. And, as Severine's sexual
liberation takes place, Deneuve's beauty is transformed from cool and aloof to
coy and playful.
Because producers Raymond and Robert Hakim were unwilling to re-release this
film in theaters or on video, Belle de Jour has not been seen for over a
quarter of a century. Now, with the rights acquired from the Hakims' estate,
Miramax has chosen to use this classic to launch their new subsidiary
distributor of French fare, Miramax Zoe. Recognizing how greatly admired the
film is (directors from Alfred Hitchcock to Martin Scorsese have sung Bunuel's
praise), Miramax has therefore given a new generation this opportunity to see a
memorable feature from decades past.
<
BACK