Madame de... (1953)
Directed by Max Ophüls

Film Review

It wasn't until he returned to Europe after his time in Hollywood - where he distinguished himself with such films as Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948) and The Reckless Moment (1949) - that Max Ophüls fulfilled his creative potential with four of the most elegantly crafted works in film history.  What unifies these four sublime masterworks - La Ronde (1950), Le Plaisir (1952), Madame de... (1953) and Lola Montès (1955) - is the way in which their director employs his unique stylistic approach to deliver the most keenly observed examinations of human frailty.  In each film, Ophüls deftly punctures the balloon of superficiality which envelops his protagonists and delights in showing us the complex inner world that lies beneath the theatrical pretence and sugary artifice.  By subtly subverting the conventions to which he appears to be intimately wedded, Ophüls reveals a tendency that today might be labelled post-modern, although more seasoned admirers of his work will be wary about applying such glib statements.  The fact is that the films of Max Ophüls are riven with textual and thematic complexity, making it hard, indeed futile, to characterise them in simple terms. 

Ophüls' background was in the theatre; before he became a film director he staged over two hundred plays and operettas in Germany, Switzerland and Austria.  It is therefore hardly surprising that his films should have a striking theatricality.  The sets are often grand and lavishly decorated, the camera movements are elaborate and expressive, the lighting fine-tuned to maximise the beauty and harmony of each shot.   With sublime visual artistry, Ophüls invariably imbues each of his French films with a grace and refinement that is unmatched by any another filmmaker.  Yet such intoxicating elegance does not deceive us for long.  Having woven a tapestry of the finest quality, Ophüls slowly rips it apart and shows us the reality that is underneath it.  To borrow a phrase from Madame de..., Ophüls' films are only superficially superficial.  Beneath the alluring surface gloss there lies the truth - stark, ugly and terrifying.

Madame de... is unquestionably Max Ophüls' greatest achievement.  It is not only his most perfectly composed film, it is also his most astute exploration of the human psyche, as well as his most scathing attack on high society.  It plunges us into a world, that of the 19th Century aristocracy, that superficially resembles a fairytale.  Its characters are torn between the demands of social etiquette and their natural instincts, incapable of yielding fully to their passions and therefore destined to lose everything in a maelstrom of frustrated desires.  It is evident from the opening sequence that the heroine no longer loves her husband, but so attached is she to the sham world of wealth and privilege that she cannot end the stale union and look for happiness elsewhere.  When such happiness does, by chance, come knocking on her door, in the guise of a handsome Italian diplomat, she is unable to embrace it fully and merely allows the romance to be extinguished by her overbearing husband.  The earrings which appear to propel the narrative like a cursed talisman symbolise the power relationship between the male and female characters.  The heroine's mistaken belief that the jewels are hers and can buy her some independence is tragically reversed at the end of the film when their true purpose is revealed - they are mere tokens by which a man may possess a woman, and nothing more.

The film's extraordinary emotional power derives primarily from Danielle Darrieux's arresting portrayal of the main female protagonist Louise (a.k.a. Madame de - we are never told her surname).   Darrieux, an icon of French cinema who began her career more than two decades previously, burns the celluloid with her charm and beauty, and yet she brings something else, an ability to convey intense inner anguish by the subtlest of gestures.  In Madame de... she is at her most devastating, at first delighting us as a woman who is brought to life by true love, and then breaking our hearts as Louise's passion is crushed and becomes transformed into a poison that extinguishes her zest for life.  In her long and illustrious career Danielle Darrieux has turned in many great performances, but few can compare with the exceptional power and poignancy of her portrayal in Madame de... of a woman who is revived and then cruelly destroyed by love.

Sharing the limelight with Mademoiselle Darrieux in this film are two other celebrated screen icons, Charles Boyer and Vittorio De Sica.  In his youth, Boyer had been one of French cinema's leading matinee idols, appearing opposite Darrieux in another landmark melodrama, Mayerling (1935).  Boyer subsequently went on to forge a successful career in Hollywood, playing the charismatic male lead in such films as All This, and Heaven Too (1940) and Gaslight (1944), before resuming his career in France in the 1950s.  In Madame de... Boyer is suitably cast as the cynical villain of the piece, the kind of role he excelled in during the latter phase of his career.  Boyer's brutal characterisation makes a perfect contrast with that of his co-star, Vittorio De Sica - whereas the former relies on his position and wealth to control the woman of his life, the latter does so solely through his charm (and is hence doomed to fail).  De Sica was Boyer's counterpart in Italian cinema, with a distinguished acting career behind him.  A few years prior to appearing in this film, he won international acclaim as a film director, bringing a new perspective to Italian neo-realism with Shoeshine (1946), Bicycle Thieves (1948) and Umberto D. (1952).  De Sica's arresting performance in Madame De..., easily one of his finest, reminds us that, in addition to being one of the great cineastes of the Twentieth Century, he was also an extremely accomplished actor, one who brought to each of his roles great depth and humanity.

The thing that perhaps most characterises the films of Max Ophüls is their exceptional fluidity, and this is best exemplified in Madame de...  The entire film flows with the effortless grace of a perfectly choreographed Viennese waltz, and how delightful it is to be snatched out of reality and become immersed in its captivating beauty, to be caught up in its flow like a leaf in a stream.  Ophüls' penchant for long, complex tracking shots is what gives the film its striking fluid nature, most vividly demonstrated by the protracted ballroom sequence in which Louise gradually falls for the charms of Baron Donati.  Although it is played as one scene, the sequence spans several weeks, the passing of time alluded to only by the snatches of dialogue and changing costumes.  As Louise and her new beau fall more deeply in love in the course of their endless dance, we witness their growing isolation as the ballroom becomes increasingly deserted.  Ultimately, they are the only couple on the dance floor - they have found their own world, outcasts from society through their sinful union, yet having no interest in anything but each other.  This beautifully orchestrated sequence conveys so many things about the nature of romantic love, and does so with such exquisite subtly that you have to watch it several times to fully appreciate the genius of Max Ophüls.  Can there be a film more enchanting, probing and viciously ironic than the magnificent Madame de...?

Film Synopsis

A wealthy Countess decides to sell her earrings to pay off a small debt, leading her husband, an important general, to believe that the jewels have been lost.  The jeweller who buys the earrings returns them to the General, who offers them as a parting gift to his mistress.  The jewels are subsequently lost in a gambling casino in Constantinople and bought by a diplomat, the Baron Donati.  Arriving back in Paris, the Baron meets and falls in love with the earrings' original owner, the Countess, Louise.   He offers her the jewels as an expression of his affection, but her husband takes the jewels away and gives them to a sick niece.  Angered by the Baron's audacity, the General challenges him to a duel which he cannot lose.  Nevertheless, the Baron accepts the duel.  Convinced that she will lose her only true love, the Countess hastens to the duel, having surrendered the earrings at a church altar - but she arrives too late.