A Girl and a Gun: Two Directors, One with Talent

May 26, 2005

Two Directors, One with Talent

Claude Chabrol has never been one of my passions. I respect his talent, admire some of his work but not so much that I go out of the way to see as much of it as possible; I liked La femme infidèle, Le boucher, and Les noces rouges from the years 1969-73, thought his work with Isabelle Huppert terrific--Violette Nozière (1978) and Une affaire des femmes (1988)--until the unfortunate Madame Bovary (1991). Even in his weaker efforts, there's generally enough material on the edge between comedy and horror to keep my interest, although in all candor when I try to think of an American analogue, I keep coming up--perhaps unfairly to Chabrol, whose oeuvre is in fact far superior--with Brian de Palma.

La cérémonie (1996) is one of his better movies of late. It is a kind of reversal of the Cinderella story in which the employers may mildly exploit the maid, but in which she gets hers back in italics. Chabrol has insisted it's a Marxist film, and the class elements are very strong, beautifully handled with nothing approaching preaching; class is real enough to European audiences that it can simply be presented as a given. But there are also psychological drivers beneath the surface of the class struggle, an afflicted maid played by Sandrine Bonnaire, a slightly crazed postal clerk played by (of course) Huppert, and everything builds toward a shocking climax rather nicely.

The maid is hired by a wealthy provincial family (Jacqueline Bisset, Jean-Pierre Cassel) and she is very competent, but also just slightly . . . off. We learn her secret soon enough, although I'm not going to reveal it because it's so interesting and so unusual. Anyway, before the family learns it, there are any number of misunderstandings that lead to flare-ups, anger, humiliation, justifiable resentment on both sides (with Huppert siding with Bonnaire for reasons of her own which shall also remain unmentioned here). Like a good chef, Chabrol brings this all to the simmer slowly, but when it makes the transition to a rolling boil, duck. The conclusion is operatic in a literal and an ironic way, and conventionally "moral" endings get a fine Gallic nose-thumbing here.

A quarter century ago, Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate landed in theaters with perhaps the worst advance press of any film in the post-war era, all entirely justified. It was a four-hour "epic," improbably described by one of its producers during shooting as like "a western made by David Lean." The film cost $36 million, hardly enough to finance an Ice Cube blaxploitation piece these days, but big bucks back then, and the loss of something like every single penny sent United Artists glub-glub. At the time of release, critics developed a sort of parlor game to the effect of "what would you cut?" Pauline Kael did a review responding, "What would you keep?" For some unfathomable reason, the Sundance Channel has decided to air a more or less complete version recently, and for an equally unfathomable reason, perhaps to see if I trusted my judgment from back then, perhaps because I didn't remember much about the film (which I saw in its Manhattan opening, something like 11:00 a.m., in a large hall with precisely eight people).

There are lots of bad, even very bad, even irredeemably bad films out there going back a century or more, but there are few this bad with this many pretensions. Take Gone with the Wind, remove all the saving moments or characters (not many there, but take them out); cut the demeaning treatment of black characters; utterly subtract Clark Gable, who actually gave the film an occasional heartbeat; put in lots more Thomas Mitchell, in one of his more dreadful roles as Scarlet's father; multiply the soppy pro-plantation attitude by about a hundred; and put Olivia de Havilland in every scene--you've still got a more palatable "epic" than Cimino's.

Haven't seen it? Do yourself a favor and maintain your innocence. But here's a little trailer of what you're in for if you don't.

Opening scene: graduation at Harvard College, 1870. Big set piece, to no apparent purpose, with Kris Kristofferson and John Hurt (both supposed to look early twenties, but KK was forty-four and JH forty and both looked it) posturing and flirting with the maidens, a big speech scene for Hurt (but to no point), a big dancing scene for the sake of having a big dancing scene--a big investment for a costume picture that advances the story not one whit, loses a lot of the audience during those twenty minutes or so, and the relevance of which is never explained (probably Cimino didn't have an explanation, but the scenes seemed like such a good idea).

Next sequence: fast forward thirty years to Wyoming, where there is a range war or something, and the Kristofferson character is a straight-shooting lawman. There is a very long street scene in what is supposed to be Casper, a scene in which the ambient sound of railroad, horsedrawn carts, and crowds on the street completely drown out all dialogue. I remember thinking in 1980 that Cimino had watched Altman's McCabe and Mrs. Miller too many times; Altman recorded with multiple tracks and then mixed them with consummate artistry, so that his film had a sort of foreground and background through the sound. Cimino mixed it so that he had a mess.

All through here and shortly after: scenes go on forever. I don't mind long scenes or long takes, sometimes find them exhilirating, but Jeez! There is an immigrant trek scene here in which we are shown individuals from a dozen angles, then a dozen more inmigrants from another dozen more angles, then . . . well, it never seems to stop. There is a power-broker luncheon scene with a hundred repetitions, a scene between Kristofferson and his French madame lover (Huppert, far more playful than in her Chabrolian incarnations, but not very believable) in which he gives her a horse as a birthday present--walking it out to her, walking it around, then walking it around again, and then, well why not walk it around once more. What was Cimino thinking? Was Cimino thinking? Was Cimino capable of thought?

Heaven's Gate, which is not to be confused with Errol Morris's brilliant documentary Gates of Heaven (1978), one of the greatest films ever made, was probably produced because Cimino won an Oscar for the vastly overrated The Deer Hunter (1978), a film I found exploitative and sensationalistic in its good moments. Two years later, he presented a film that was precisely what a cold-eyed view of Deer Hunter would have led one to expect. Its present value may be limited to a film-school case study in how not to make a film. What would you keep indeed? Not a frame.

May 26, 2005 at 03:37 PM | Permalink

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Comments

Ack, I didn't think Heaven's Gate quite THAT bad. The movie has a huge number of downsides, but some positives, including a really great cast (which is admittedly almost entirely mis-used).

The central problem, I think, with Heaven's Gate is that Cimino is trying to remake Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West - both movies are obsessed with a fairly primitive Marxist interpretation of Western history, bizarrely long takes, madonna/whore central female characters, noise effects, "the end of the West" narratives, graphic and over-the-top violence, extreme historical accuracy in scenery and clothing and so on.

I'm not a huge fan of Once Upon a Time in the West either, but why does OUATITW turn out better than Heaven's Gate? First, Leone/Bertolucci are simply much more sophisticated Marxists than Cimino (or rather, Cimino doesn't understand what he's doing in Heaven's Gate, not that he's a failed Marxist). One indication of that is the entirely failed characterization of Averill (Kristofferson). There's simply no indication or motivation given why he is a lawman at all, or why he's in Montana versus anywhere else, or why he defends the immigrant community, or why he's in love with the whore or how he got from Harvard to Montana, or literally anything. His character (especially considering the ending sequence) essentially makes no sense.

Also, the central villain Canton (Sam Waterston) is a completely colorless, essentially empty character - the wealthy rancher as empty signifier. We have even less idea why Canton is so floridly brutal in his actions than why Averill does anything.

Compare that to Leone's success in turning two empty signifiers in his Frank and Harmonica into watchable characters - partially due to Leone's wise choices of Henry Fonda and Charles Bronson and the physical presence Fonda and Bronson bring to the movie. Conversely, Waterston and Kristofferson bring almost no physical presence to their movie at all. Also, Leone's character of Morton the railroad magnate and his superior understanding of pure economics of the situation adds a lot of life to the "bad" side of the Western equation (while we essentially are eternally mystified by the underlying economics of Heaven's Gate, which I don't think Cimino understood himself).

The Harvard graduation simply made no sense to me. I literally couldn't understand John Hurt's speech - why is it there? It's completely meaningless! Then, there's the repetition. I think Cimino was trying to create some sort of abstract rhythm going, but it falls because what you're actually seeing is so boring (how many times do we see Huppert driving her new carriage around? I believe it's four times).

Posted by:burritoboy | May 26, 2005 at 06:26 PM

If anyone wants to read an interview with Chabrol concerning "La cérémonie," go here:

http://home.comcast.net/~chabrol/Chabrol-interviews.html#POS

Posted by:Flickhead | May 26, 2005 at 08:38 PM

Does anyone know what's up with the sudden Heaven's Gate comeback that's been happening recently? It gets aired on the Sundance Channel, restored prints start popping up at film fests all over, and some people have even come out of the woodwork admitting that they like the damn movie. Is it all tied in to the Heaven's Gate doc that just came out, or is there something more sinister at work here?

Personally, I've never worked up the courage to see Heaven's Gate, as I already thought that The Deer Hunter was one of the most aimless movies I'd ever seen and didn't want to be subjected to anything that manages to top it. Though I suppose I should just to see how bad it is. An endurance test, I Spit On Your Grave style, but longer hopefully with less on screen rape.

Posted by:Josh | May 28, 2005 at 12:31 AM

Josh,

I believe MGM produced a new, cleaned-up print of the "director's cut" of the movie (frankly, if I was an executive at MGM in 1979-1980 I would have tried to knife Cimino in the parking lot after seeing this) as well as re-releasing the DVD. That's what's behind the "revival".

I certainly don't think it's the worst movie in the world, but the 1980/1981 audiences were, in general, right to largely avoid the movie.

Posted by:burritoboy | May 29, 2005 at 12:33 PM

I've never seen Heaven's Gate, but I'll stand up for The Deer Hunter, since no one else seems to want to. Yes, it runs long, and the dancing and partying at the beginning excessive (much, it sounds, like similar scenes in HG), but the film, despite its America-friendly racism, is intense, thoughtful and evokes a strong picture of the repercussions and traumas of war. I watched again recently in an undergrad film class and most of the students were captivated, suggesting it portrayed the dark, relentless chaos of Vietnam with extraordinary focus. The roullette scenes are some of the harriest I've ever seen filmed, and the film gives both veteran's issues and blue-collar existence (which are in many ways connected) a strong treatment.

Posted by:Peter | May 29, 2005 at 06:40 PM

I almost offended by this post. No, I am offended, in a very ambiguous yet concrete way. You have problems with Chabrol, agruably the greatest "New Wave" director after the obvious, then you begrudginly say his American corallary is De Palma. Please. As far as movements go - De Palma is by far the most original and unique of the "New Hollywood." This is almost painfully obvious based on his supreme command of the literal form that makes up cinema. Scorsese will always be Scorsese - he is an institution. Coppola directed The Godfather, his position is solidified. De Palma, on the other hand, has a complex, diverse, and most importantly (despite the parrotted party line) has a unique, original, and even anarchic body of films.

Second - The way you reduce Heaven's Gate to rubish is pathetic. The movie is so far from bad it hurts. It is incredibly easy to dismiss, but look beyond the primitive scope of script and diegesis and you find a brilliant piece of visual filmmaking. When you complaint about the onslaught of immigrants you fail to recall two key details - it was almost only Spaghettis that called out the Western on the reality of Euro-immigrants, and two, that you have seldom seen such incredibly beautiful imagery. I am no fan of Cimino - the Deer Hunter is garbage, but Heaven's Gate is a stand up film. It is so far from deserving it's rep.

Posted by:dave | June 01, 2005 at 07:08 PM

Dave,

I think the comparison of Chabrol to De Palma is primarily in that they are both distinctive followers of Hitchcock. Chabrol's best movies are generally on the crossroads of sex between class, while De Palma works best on the intersection between sex and obsession. Not that Chabrol doesn't do obsession too, but De Palma doesn't do class.

Posted by:burritoboy | June 01, 2005 at 08:20 PM

I have no problem with the comparison - merely with agirlandagun's disparaging verbiage. He obviously is down on De Palma.

Posted by:dave | June 01, 2005 at 10:53 PM

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