FOUR NIGHTS OF A DREAMER (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur)
A
France (87 mi) 1971 d: Robert Bresson
One of the hardest Bresson films to track down, nearly
inaccessible for 30 years, yet one of the most exquisite reveries in cinema,
also one of the few Bresson films with an optimistic sense of humor, a perfect
antidote to the searing realism and depths of despair from Eustache’s The
Mother and the Whore (La Maman et la Putain) (1973), often viewed as the
end of the French New Wave and the best expression for the end of optimism from
the 60’s, where Eustache’s suicide confirms a terminal collapse of will and
hope, though this is actually one of the better 60’s films out there, perfectly
capturing the love of an ideal, only instead of viewed through the politics of
student protests and demonstrations this is seen through the unique vantage
point of two young lovers who meet accidentally in Paris. Easily
Bresson’s most luminous and stunningly beautiful film, whose use of music,
color, and gorgeous locations perfectly capture the gentle tone of innocence
and the first pangs of love, a film that simply takes one’s breath way.
Like his previous film Une
Femme Douce (1969), this is another film of transience, a film nearly
defined by fleeting moments, like an impressionist stream-of-conscious series
of thoughts strung together over a short period of time that literally radiate
with bursts of life. Adapted from another Dostoevsky short story, White Nights, gorgeously made by
Visconti with Marcello Mastroianni in White
Nights (La Niotti Bianche) (1957), but rather than dwell on the wrenching
disappointment of a lost dream, Bresson amusingly accentuates the fickle
behavior of youth, often showing groups of young bohemian kids singing and
playing music on the streets as characters pass by, much like the mod kids seen
in Antonioni’s BLOW-UP (1966), which serve as momentary interludes of love
poems, where the characters stop and listen before moving on with their
lives. Told with a decided existential twist, the film expresses how
isolated and self-absorbed kids are in the innocent throes of youth, where
they’re still discovering who they are and what they believe in, not sure yet
where they fit into society, yet ready to impulsively make that leap.
After spending a delightful sunny afternoon walking through
the countryside (Four nights of a
dreamer - Robert Bresson - YouTube see the opening ten minutes of the
film), a young painter Jacques (Guillaume Des Forêts) returns to the
picturesque Pont Neuf bridge over the Seine River in Paris, where the
despondent Marthe (Isabelle Weingarten, who also appears in Eustache’s film) is
contemplating jumping off. In this manner, they introduce themselves, as
Jacques quickly persuades her to change her mind, but only if they agree to
meet in the exact same spot the following night, which continues over the
course of four nights. When she asks about himself, he bashfully responds
he has no story, which is quickly followed by a humorous sequence entitled
“Jacques’ Story,” where he dreams of finding an idyllic love, wordlessly
following girls on the streets of Paris, one after another, imagining how each
could be his one and only love before returning alone back to his studio
apartment where he paints and records personal reflections on a tape recorder,
an inner monologue of his secret desires, often playing it back as he
paints. His recordings are the source of continued humor throughout, as
he often plays them back in public places, like buses, where they're completely
out of place. What follows, of course, is “Marthe’s Story,” which is a
little more involved, a young girl living at home with her mother, feeling
imprisoned, like a caged bird who dreams of flying away. In one of many
poetic sequences of the film, Bresson, with his typical economy of means,
wordlessly shows how she falls in love with their roomer, a young man renting
the room next to hers, who she has never even seen, but only imagines in a kind
of innocent ballet, alone and naked in front of the mirror, yet she loves him
the moment he enters her room. Since he’s leaving the country for a year
to attend school, they agree to meet at the bridge in exactly one year, and if
they still love one another they’ll get married. Marthe is dejected as
she believes she has lost him, that he has moved on without her.
Jacques, of course, harboring his own secret love, agrees to
help her get him back, appealing to various friends, reminding the absent
partner of the urgency of their planned rendezvous. Over the next few
nights, they spend most of their time walking through the illuminated streets
of Paris, hearing musicians on the street, watching the lively street life, and
seeing the boats pass by on the river, where perhaps the most intoxicating
scene of the film is discovering what may be Portuguese singers Bateau
Mouche (from Bresson's "Four Nights Of A Dreamer", 1971 ... on
YouTube (3:40) on an evening dinner cruise in a glass-covered boat along the
Seine, following them with heightened interest as they gently drift by, another
perfect example of the idyllic romanticism of Paris. What happens, of
course, is that these two quickly become more than just friends, as they’re
continually pouring out confessional secrets to one another, where it’s as if
they only have each other to hold onto in the entire world. Marthe holds
out hope that she still loves her roomer, but what does she really know about
someone she’s only spent a few minutes with? Insistent that he’s still
the one, Jacques plays along, offering full support and encouragement until by
the fourth night she’s convinced he’s disappeared, left her for another, finally
settling on Jacques as the kind of man who’s really right for her, gentle and
kind, with an easygoing manner and someone who definitely appreciates
her. While she realizes this, it’s a mix of heartbreak and illusory love
streaming through her veins, comforting herself with the thought as the gentle
waves of the Seine lap to the shore, where the peaceful flow of the river
harmoniously represents a transitional change. No sooner are they
rapturously in each other’s arms, problems solved, lovers for life, where a
surge of happiness floods the screen, until she awkwardly spots her absentee
lover, quickly offering Jacques a kiss and an embrace before she runs away with
him, disappearing quickly from view. In Visconti’s movie and the book,
the man is devastated by the wrenching agony from the sudden shift of his
changing fate, but Bresson’s film takes a lighter view, making a prescient
comment on youth itself, suggesting nothing is permanent at an age when hope
springs eternal.
