Film Review
Maurice Pialat's
Loulou
probably rates as the most important French film of the 1980s.
The film certainly marked something of a watershed in Pialat's career,
earning him international renown and establishing him as one of
France's leading auteur filmmakers. More crucially it provided a
catalyst for what would become the most substantial and far-reaching
shake-up in French cinema since the New Wave of the 1950s and
60s. With a sudden insurgence of new talent, backed up by
generous state subsidies, France in the 1980s was to become a fertile
breeding ground for auteur cinema, creating the healthy dichotomy (art house
alongside commercial cinema) that continues to define French cinema to
this day. Pialat was by no means the only maverick filmmaker to
bring about this state of affairs but he was one of the most
important. Beineix, Carax and Besson would each have a sporadic
impact with their stylised
cinéma
du look but Pialat's near-the-knuckle
cinéma vérité
would prove to be more enduring, its influence still felt in much of
the realist cinema that is made in France today.
Throughout his career Maurice Pialat was obsessively dedicated to one
goal, capturing the essence of life in his art. It was a personal
quest that earned him few friends and made him a controversial figure,
loved by some, loathed by many.
Loulou
was, in many respects, a continuation of
Passe ton bac d'abord (1979), a
film in which Pialat powerfully evoked the frustration and insecurity
of the young at at time of mass unemployment in France. In
Loulou, the classic love triangle
serves as a metaphor for a society that was still rigidly divided along
class lines. The choice faced by the lead female protagonist
Nelly is between a life of bourgeois comfort and security that lacks
real fulfilment and one in which the pursuit of economic well-being is
sacrificed for personal happiness and freedom. The two male
characters, Loulou and André, are flagrant stereotypes - the one
a hedonistic, irresponsible layabout, the other a prim middle-class Mr
Average - but they provide the most succinct representation of the
social demarcation of 1980s France.
In a similar vein to Pialat's earlier
Nous ne vieillirons pas ensemble (1972)
Loulou has a strong
autobiographical component. Pialat and his co-screenwriter
Arlette Langmann developed the story from an episode in their life, in
which Langmann left Pialat to pursue an intense but short-lived love
affair with another man. On this occasion, once the narrative
outline had been established, Pialat was far less clear in his mind as
to how the film should be made. As a consequence,
Loulou was to be one of his most
troubled productions, one in which he tested the patience of his cast,
his technical crew and his producers to the absolute limit, and came
perilously close to failing to complete the film. It was a
miracle that it ever made it to the cinema screens.
To say that that Pialat's working relationship with his lead actor
Gérard Depardieu got off to bad start is understating things
somewhat. Unable to give his actors a clear steer as to what he
wanted, and all too ready to dish out scalding hot criticism to all and
sundry when he failed to get anything less than one hundred per cent
commitment, Pialat had no trouble alienating his principal performers,
especially the laid-back
nouvelle
vedette Depardieu, whom he considered lazy and
unprofessional. Pialat made a habit of wandering off, leaving
everyone in the lurch, and would never take the trouble to give his
actors a clear statement of what he was expecting of them. The
making of
Loulou was an
exercise in creative chaos in which Depardieu and his co-stars,
Isabelle Huppert and Guy Marchard, were all pushed to their limits by
the hardest of task-masters. The pain was almost unendurable
(none of these actors minces his or her words when they speak about
working with Pialat) but the effort was worth it. In no other
film has any of these actors given a performance that is so utterly raw
and uncompromisingly truthful. By the end of a murderously
intense two-month shooting stint Depardieu had warmed considerably
towards Pialat and they would subsequently work together on three other
films, including the box office hit
Police (1985) and highly
acclaimed
Sous le soleil de Satan (1987).
Complementing the gruelling authenticity of the performances is some
remarkably fluid camera work which both anchors the drama in the
closest approximation to life as we know it (as opposed to the
synthetic Hollywood-like substitute) and gives the film its distinctive
austere poetry. With little in the way of narrative it is the
endlessly roving, constantly probing camera that ties the fragmented
snatches of life together into a coherent whole. The result is
far nearer to a chaotically thrown together fly-on-the-wall documentary
than scripted drama - which is hardly surprising given that virtually
every scene was improvised with the minimum of directorial input,
including the famous scene in which the bed collapses under Huppert and
Depardieu.
Perhaps the most astonishing thing about
Loulou is how it fared with an
enforced change of cinematographer part-way though its production, a
recipe for disaster if ever there was one. When Pierre-William
Glenn was called away just before the final scenes were due to be shot,
Jacques Loiseleux stepped into the breach and the change is virtually
imperceptible. Another near-fatal blow came when Pialat was
unable to complete the film as planned, owing to the fact that both
Depardieu and Huppert were unable to prolong their stay as they had
commitments on other films (Michael Cimino's
blockbuster-to-end-all-blockbusters
Heaven's
Gate in the case of Huppert). Pialat persuaded his
producers to allow him to shoot the 'missing scenes' at a later date,
without which the film would probably have never secured a commercial
release.
Although
Loulou was warmly
received by most critics on its initial release in 1980 it failed to
achieve anything like the box office receipts its producers had
anticipated. In France, the film attracted an audience of just
under a million, and it failed to win an award despite being nominated
for three Césars in 1981. The film may not have been an
unqualified success but it captured the mood of the time and had a
significant impact on the careers of its director and two lead
actors. After
Loulou,
Gérard Depardieu and Isabelle Huppert were soon established as
two of French cinema's most important stars and Pialat would go on to
make his most commercially successful and most highly regarded
films.
Loulou was a cinematic
milestone that helped to knock French cinema out of its complacency in
the early 1980s and secured a lasting place for the auteur in one of
the world's most successful film industries. On the artistic
side,
Loulou is a superbly
executed, monstrously daring attempt to reflect wider social concerns
through an intimate slice-of-life drama. Lacking all but the most
basic attempt at a narrative structure the film can be a challenge to
watch but for those who fall under its strange spell it can be an
eye-opening and enchanting experience.
Loulou is the most tragic, the most
bitterly ironic of all Pialat's films, and possibly the greatest.
© James Travers 2014
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Next Maurice Pialat film:
À nos amours (1983)