Biography: life and films
Maurice Pialat is one of France's most esteemed auteur filmmakers,
perhaps one of the greatest cineastes of all time, and yet he is not
someone who is easy to fall in love with. Throughout his career,
he was renowned for his uncompromising, provocative, even pugnacious
temperament, and these qualities are reflected in his unique brand of
cinema. Pialat's films are challenging, in both their subject
matter and their composition, and they make few concessions to
prevailing trends in mainstream cinema. There is a similarity
between his films and those of Robert Bresson. Like Bresson,
Pialat had no interest in merely presenting an imitation of life; he
wanted to show us the real thing, all the traumas of human experience,
raw and ungarnished, not some tawdry gift-wrapped confection. His
approach to cinema grew out of his passion for painting. In a
similar vein to the impressionists of the 19th century whom he greatly
admired, Pialat was motivated to express the deeper truths of life, the
truer reality that lies beneath the surface. 'The bleak poetry of
the soul' is one way to describe Pialat's austere and profoundly
introspective filmmaking aesthetic.
Maurice Pialat was born on 31st August 1925 at Cunlhat,
Puy-de-Dôme, in the Auvergne region of France. His first
passion in life was painting, and this led him to study at some of the
most prestigious art schools in Paris. Unfortunately, he had
little success as a painter and survived by doing odd jobs. In
1951, he bought a film camera and started making short films, the most
notable being the socially concerned documentary
L'Amour
existe (1960). It was around this time that Pialat met
Claude Berri, another aspiring film director. The two men became
inseparable and remained the closest of friends, which is surprising
given that their approaches to cinema were poles apart - Berri would be
drawn to the mainstream whilst Pialat remained the diehard
auteur. In these early years, they made a number of short films
together, including
Janine
(1962). Berri co-produced Pialat's first feature,
L'Enfance nue (1968) and would
finance his later film
Passe ton bac
d'abord (1979).
Pialat's filmmaking career began properly in 1963 when he was
commissioned by the Turkish government to make a series of short films
about Turkey. By working on these films, which powerfully evoke
the beauty and sorrow of the country, Pialat was able to develop his
distinctive realist style. It was not until 1968 when, aged 43,
Pialat was able to direct his first feature, the documentary-style
drama
L'Enfance nue. A shocking
indictment of France's child fostering system which vaguely resembles
Truffaut's
Les 400 coups (1959), the film
was a critical success and won its director the Prix Jean Vigo.
Many French filmmakers claim to have been influenced by this film,
which is regarded by some as Pialat's most important work. It was
on the strength of this film that Pialat was commissioned by the French
television company Antenne 2 to direct a seven-part TV series
La Maison des bois (1970).
This series continued and developed the themes of Pialat's first film,
showing how children are impacted when their parents are taken from
them during the First World War.
In 1972, Pialat presented his second feature,
Nous ne vieillirons pas ensemble,
at the Cannes Film Festival. An adaptation of his own
autobiographical novel, the film was both critically acclaimed and a
substantial commercial success, and it also won the Best Actor
award at Cannes for its male lead Jean Yanne. This was followed by
another autobiographical piece,
La
Gueule ouverte (1974), in which Pialat recalls how, in his
youth, he had coped with his mother's slow decline through an
untreatable cancerous illness. The film, perhaps the director's
most personal, was not a commercial success, despite some positive
reviews. This first flop was to rob Pialat of his confidence, and
as a result the making of his next film,
Passe ton bac d'abord, was not
a comfortable experience. Despite continual fallings out with the
cast and crew, Pialat was able to complete the film and it was very
well-received by critics and audiences. It was particularly noted
for the authentic way in which it evoked the frustrations of the
younger generation at a time of high unemployment and escalating social
unease.
Pialat's next film,
Loulou (1980) was to mark
something of a turning point in the director's career. For one
thing, it was the beginning of his long collaboration with
Gérard Depardieu, who had only recently achieved stardom and
international renown. Although the two men did not get on well at
first, and would often waste time in bitter arguments, they soon
learned to respect one another and became exceptionally close.
Depardieu would work on four of the ten full-length films that Pialat
made. By now Pialat had regained his self-esteem and felt more
confident to develop his own film aesthetic. He was no longer
bound by the conventions of filmmaking technique and began to formulate
his own rules as he persevered with his personal crusade to project the
fundamental essence of life onto the cinema screen, rather than its far
less interesting outer shell. Some of Pialat's admirers are
adamant that this is where the director's career really began, that
what came before was mere experimentation that is marred by compromise
and inexperience.
Loulou
is certainly one of Pialat's greatest works, an entrancing and
remarkably truthful portrayal of a turbulent amorous liaison,
beautifully played by Depardieu and Isabelle Huppert.
With
À nos amours (1983), his
sixth feature, Pialat revisits the themes of adolescent disaffection
and intergenerational conflict. One of his most acclaimed films,
it won both the Prix Louis Delluc and the Best Film César in
1984. This was the first time that Pialat worked with Sandrine
Bonnaire, who is stunning in her substantial film role. Another
notable name in the cast list is that of Cyril Collard, an aspiring
young filmmaker who died tragically from an AIDS-related illness
shortly after completing his first feature
Les
Nuits fauves (1992).
Pialat's closest encounter with mainstream cinema came next, with the
gritty crime-drama
Police (1985). Adapted
from a 1930s thriller novel, the film was scripted by up-and-coming
filmmaker Catherine Breillat, who was instrumental in getting Pialat to
direct the film. With a substantial budget provided by Gaumont
and two of the main French television channels, the film had a
distinguished cast (headed by Gérard Depardieu, Sophie Marceau
and Richard Anconina) and the production facilities that Pialat could
previously only have dreamed off. Yet, despite this, the shoot
was not a happy one. Pialat and Breillat had major differences
over the screenplay, and the director resented having to work with what
he considered to be inferior actors. Pialat found it impossible to communicate with
Marceau and he brought the production to a standstill after fiercely
humiliating Anconina on the set. Although Pialat claimed he
loathed the film,
Police was
to be his biggest commercial success. The critics liked it and it
attracted an audience of 1.8 million. With its brutal, nihilist
edge and almost vicious naturalism,
Police
is one of the most striking French films policiers of the 1980s, and a
precursor to the tougher, more realistic thrillers that would come in
the following decade.
In 1987, Pialat received the highest accolade of his career, the Palme
d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, for his adaptation of Georges
Bernanos'
Sous le soleil de Satan.
It was to be a memorable event. The decision to award Pialat the
top prize at Cannes provoked an uproar from those who saw Wim Wenders'
Wings of Desire as a far more
suitable recipient. In response to the catcalls and whistles of
derision, Pialat shook his fist at the audience and said: "If you don't
like me, I can tell you that I don't like you either." At the
time of its release, the film divided the critics and was not a
commercial success. Today, it is considered one of Pialat's
greatest films, a haunting evocation of one man's descent into Hell and
subsequent redemption, the inner torments of the main protagonist
(Depardieu again) reflected beautifully in the film's sombre visual
composition and austere setting.
Pialat's love of painting is revealed in his next film,
Van Gogh
(1991), a biographical drama depicting the last troubled days of the
painter Vincent Van Gogh. Once again, Pialat is not content
merely to record the events of the artist's life but instead seeks to
take us into his inner world, so that we may comprehend something of
the troubled genius who was shortly to take his own life.
Although Pialat was highly dissatisfied with his lead actor, and
frequently described his performance as mediocre, Jacques Dutronc holds
our attention and achieves what Pialat wanted, to show us the man, not
the myth.
For his last film,
Le Garçu
(1995), Pialat returns to the subject of childhood abandonment with
which he began his career. Despite a compelling and sympathetic
performance from Gérard Depardieu, the film lacks the power of
Pialat's preceding films, and this might explain why it was only a
moderate success. Maurice Pialat subsequently gave up filmmaking
and returned to his other love, painting. He died on 11th January
2003 from a kidney disease, aged 77. He is buried at Montparnasse
cemetery in Paris, where he lies in the company of some other
distinguished French filmmakers, Claude Sautet, Jacques Demy and Yves
Robert. Since his death, Pialat's reputation has steadily
grown and, of all the great French film directors, he is fast becoming
one of the most revered.
© James Travers 2012
The above content is owned by frenchfilms.org and must not be copied.