In the Shadow of Women (L'ombre des femmes) B-
France Switzerland (73 mi)
2015 ‘Scope d:
Philippe Garrel
This is as bleakly minimalist and understated as a film can
be, telling an age-old boy meets girl story, then boy meets another girl, and
girl meets another boy, and there you have it.
That’s pretty much it, though the film is beautifully told in a
streamlined, French New Wave, black and white style, shot on 35 mm, cinematography
by Swiss cameraman Renato Berta, who has himself worked with Godard, using free-flowing,
naturalistic dialogue, weaving in and out of the streets of Paris, all told
with a monotone narrator that is right out of early 60’s Godard. One’s appreciation for this film is likely to
fall into the non-theatrical camp, as emotions are minimized, absurdity
elevated, where the sexist, male-centric tone throughout where men continue to
see themselves as the center of the universe, where everything revolves around
them, is not likely to win any new converts.
It is this narrow lens through which the world is continually viewed
that makes this feel like a time capsule from another era, as aside from the
use of cellphones, there is little suggesting this film wasn’t made a good half
century ago. Philippe Garrel got his
start making films in the 60’s, largely influenced by Godard at the time, so
he’s no stranger to the milieu, though why he’s still churning out films like
this is anyone’s guess, as it’s certainly within his comfort zone, taking a step backwards from Jealousy
(La Jalousie) (2013), which was itself a remake of his second film made at
the age of 17, a fifteen-minute short DROIT DE VISITE (1965). Opening in Director’s Fortnight at Cannes, the
problem with the film is that it feels very formulaic, like we’ve seen it
before, literally light years away from the brash cinematic energy exuded by Léos
Carax in Boy
Meets Girl (1984), or even the jump cuts from Godard’s BREATHLESS (1960), where
it’s a return to a simpler age, as if we’ve never left. While working with his wife Caroline Deruas
and familiar screenwriter Arlette Langman, who got her start working with
Maurice Pialat, what is different about this film is the use of writer
Jean-Claude Carrière, a screenwriter for both Buñuel and Godard, though
admittedly not in the last 30 years or so, placing this film in a kind of time
warp, though it certainly adds a wry humor that is missing from the director’s
other films.
Pierre, Stanislas Merhar, who was in Chantal Akerman’s THE
CAPTIVE (2000), is a somber, somewhat pompous director, while his wife Manon,
Clotilde Courau, aka Clotilde di Savoia, Princess of Venice (Zimbio),
works as his editor, where together they make documentary films that seem to be
on the fringe of the industry, and while they are just scraping by, they’re
committed to the kind of unvarnished work they produce, sharing an inherent
need for discovering truth (vérité) in cinema.
Currently they are interviewing Henri (Jean Pommier), an aging survivor
of the French Resistance, where Manon views her husband as an elite
photojournalist on the verge of discovery as opposed to the hack he really
is. Despite the appearance of a happy
marriage, where Manon’s mother (the brilliant Antoinette Moya) has some serious
doubts about their sputtering careers, thinking she’s giving her husband far more
credit than he deserves, reminding her daughter, “No man is worth sacrificing
your life for,” then the first thing we see Pierre do is cheat on her, showing
extra attention to a young intern named Elisabeth (Léna Paugam), literally
following her home with a truckload of borrowed film canisters from a film
archive that he utilizes, where he justifies his affair “with typical male equivocation”
in a narrative voiceover spoken by the director’s son, Louis Garrel. Believing he’s only doing what any man would
do, where he skillfully balances his time between the two women, but he makes
the classic mistake of bringing his wife flowers, which she immediately recognizes
as a typical male ploy to cover up illicit behavior. Of course, he denies having any such
intentions, so the audience instantly sees the man as a fraud and a
scoundrel. What’s amusing about this
particular story, however, is the way the interior narration continually justifies
his boorish behavior, as if this is the right of every man. Elisabeth, meanwhile, follows Pierre home to
spy on her competition, as he’s not spending as much time with her as she’d
like, only to discover Manon is having an affair of her own, which sends
Elisabeth into the throes of depression, as if it reflects poorly on her to
cheat with a man whose wife would cheat on him.
God knows what this all has to say about marriage, but more likely it
reveals the director’s own views on monogamy, that it’s an outdated concept
worthy of ridicule.
While each goes to great extremes to keep their affairs
hidden, both are eventually exposed, revealing jealousies, petty resentments,
and a good deal of betrayal felt by each, where Manon tends to be more mature
and understanding, while Pierre goes into full-throttle anger mode, showing little
consideration, an extraordinary amount of disdain, literally seething
internally, expressing hurtful behavior towards both women. What makes this borderline ridiculous is the contemptuous
display of brooding arrogance shown by Pierre, the wronged man, feeling trapped
and blaming it all on the women, as if he bears no personal
responsibility. This moral hypocrisy
literally blows up their marriage, as Manon is rightfully offended by his
deluded, self-centered point of view, thinking entirely of himself throughout
the ordeal, as if he is the only offended party. This kind of thinking is simply outdated, as
it’s outrageously out of touch with contemporary French society, where women have
evolved beyond his pouting adolescence and wouldn’t spend their time with a manipulative
egotist like this, as he’s exposed as a hypocrite and a fraud. Even the documentary they were working on
blows up in their face, in an amusing twist, but Garrel loves to pour out
confessional male anguish along with feelings of hurt and alienation, but it’s
getting to be old hat with this director, where women can come to his films to
point out what “not” to do in personal relationships. Promising more than it delivers, becoming a
relationship in miniature movie, pared down to its pure essence, the real
problem is the realization that this is really all there is to this film, where
it doesn’t delve into the inner complexities of either character, but is content to dramatize the more obvious superficialities, highlighting how easy
it is to break apart. Little effort is
made to actually repair the damage done, as Pierre becomes so condescendingly
sure of himself that he’s not willing to waste any more time on a woman he loathes
and finds despicable. It’s such a
narrow, anger-fueled perspective that the audience is light years ahead of this
guy, as he’ll live to regret this decision, as Manon may turn out to be the
love of his life, but he is so willing to devalue her and throw it all
away. While well-made, with all that’s
going on in the world today, not sure that what we need is another battle of
the sexes movie, as it’s well-worn and fairly trite material, where this film
adds little to the perspective while retreading familiar grounds.
