L'Ours et la poupée (1969)
Directed by Michel Deville

Film Review

With L'Ours et la Poupée, director Michel Deville (aided by his faithful co-screenwriter Nina Companeez) brought to a decisive end a series of light romantic comedies that began with Ce soir ou jamais (1961) and established him as one of France's most popular auteur filmmakers in the 1960s.  After this final (and ditsiest) round of Marivaudage tomfoolery, Deville made a swift transition to a darker, more introspective and sometimes disturbing style of cinema that examined human nature from a far less rosier and flippant perspective.  Like a pancake binge before the long weeks of Lenten fasting, here is Deville greedily indulging in his own peculiar brand of lunacy.

Looking like a screwball comedy send-up of a classic fairytale (or vice versa), L'Ours et la Poupée is an engaging romp but it feels slight compared with Deville's previous films and hardly any effort appears to have been spent on the writing front.  It was however a commercial success, owing no doubt to the casting of Brigitte Bardot in the lead role (one of her last), a doll-like heiress with dominatrix tendencies who is obviously a near relation of the character the actress would later play in Les Pétroleuses (1971) and Si Don Juan était une femme (1973).  By this time, Bardot was disillusioned with the film industry and Deville's film was timely, a long overdue chance for the actress to forge a new identity for herself.  Alas, this new, more assertive Bardot was to be just another object for seedy male fantasies, as readily exploited as her earlier sex kitten persona, and it would not be long before the actress turned her back on acting for good.

Originally, the role that ultimately went to Bardot was conceived for Catherine Deneuve, but the latter declined the part on learning that both Jean-Paul Belmondo and Alain Delon had refused the lead male role when it was offered to them simultaneously.  An actor who was never ashamed to be in touch with his feminine side, Jean-Pierre Cassel was perfectly suited to play opposite a butched-up Bardot in a classic rom-com set up where the  usual male-female roles are reversed.  The scene where Bardot casually pushes a jam sandwich into Cassel's face wasn't just a blow for late 60s feminism (such a shame that Bardot spends most of the film running about in six inch miniskirts and knee-length boots), it was also a homage to the famous scene in The Public Enemy (1931), where James Cagney finds a novel use for a grapefruit half.

The side-splitting jam butty incident is, sad to say, the most memorable moment in an otherwise almost completely forgettable film.  With a virtually content-free plot that is barely sustained by a handful of silly comedy situations (how many times can a 2CV crash into a Rolls-Royce?), the film ends up with Bardot and Cassel spending what feels like an eternity frolicking about,  dancing, singing and making love to the music of Gioachino Rossini.  Nice work if you can get it but not much fun for someone expecting more than a homeopathic dose of entertainment.

Film Synopsis

Since separating from his wife, violinist Gaspard has two passions in his life: music and nature.  Felicia is a rich woman who does nothing else but go to parties in her Rolls-Royce and amuse herself with her many male admirers.  This ill-matched pair meet when the former's clapped out Citroen crashes into the latter's pristine Rolls.  As usual, Felicia tries her charms on Gaspard, but he has his mind on other matters and for once she fails to catch her man.  Felicia is not to be put off, however.  Gaspard strikes her as being different to any other man she has met and she is determined to make him her next conquest.  Will the doll be able to seduce the bear...?