A Very Private Affair

Another reviewer mentioned nouvelle vague and it's true this film stinks of French New Wave. Of course the time was really the style's zenith when even boring pretentious garbage was treated like great art. Hard to take is the acting style that seems to come with the movement -very flat and anti-emotional - a little too Neo-realist for most tastes especially in America where actors tend to chew the scenery. Heck Tom Cruise apparently chews the scenery in ordinary life or at least on talk shows.

However I found there was a kind of chemistry and disturbing reality in Bardot's portrayal of the sex kitten. She was one moment almost catatonic and another bubbly. But how contemporary to see the star as a kind of trapped animal like a fox with dogs and hunters in pursuit. One could see this movie being remade with Brittany or another of the modern celebutantes in the starring role. Was Bardot playing herself? Well isn't that the kind of truth we look for in art? Malle could have been alluding to Marilyn or any modern celebrity caught in the maelstrom of fame. The relationship with Mastroanni seemed especially perceptive. He wants to protect her, but she wants to live and she can't. Certainly think Brittney could relate to this one especially to Jill's own mother selling her out to the press. We've seen that one lately, haven't we.

Not a fun movie but one that stays with you and that's rare these days.

It was the dubbed version that I saw of this dreary little story about an actress (BB) who finds out, as is almost always the way, that her internal happiness is a sacrificial lamb to fame. Certainly good-looking - with La Bardot at her most luscious how could it not be? - but never very compelling.

The ending is, however, notable for going waaaaaay over the top. (Has anyone noticed how many Brigitte Bardot movies have unhappy endings?)

In 1961,BB was the biggest star France had ever had.Never in the history of French cinema an actress had crystallized around her such an adulation..but also so much hatred.One scene sums up everything;in an elevator ,Jill (BB) meets a cleaning lady who insults her,calls her whore and tells her that while she is playing around,her brother is fighting in Algeria.This woman of the people epitomizes what a lot of common men used to think circa 1960.Like in Clouzot's "la vérité" ,as an user wrote,the people is judging Bardot.

"Vie privée" is looked upon as one of Louis Malle's weakest efforts and it's probably unfair.He did much worse later ("le souffle au coeur"(1971).Its hints at Bardot's own life seem dated now but they inspire its vital extremism:Jill (BB) becomes a big star and it's a hellish life which begins.The scene when Jill is tracked down in her own house by journalists is barely fiction:in her memoirs,BB tells that German tourists' tour in Saint-Tropez included her house's visit!!The movie has two parts;the first one is the rise of the star and her efforts to escape from the maddening crowd:Louis Malle uses too much voice over,and a telegraphic style,très nouvelle vague.The second part depicts her relationship with a handsome Italian (Mastroianni),but even in a foreign country she's got to hide in a bedroom.The movie turns a bit pretentious ,with pompous music -from an opera Mastroianni is directing-;and after the rise,comes the fall (in every sense of the term).

BB was never a bimbo (une ravissante idiote) but a clever sensitive woman.We feel it in Malle's work.Watch it for her.

For the record, I saw the dubbed version. But for the first hour, there is so little dialogue, I don't think it could matter very much. This early Malle film spends so much time on Bardot's character's angst and yearning for her own time and space that you might be tempted to turn it off. Don't, but if you have it on tape, you may wish to fast forward. The second third of the movie is a never-ending cliche. As a reward, the ending is rich, vibrant, and celebratory.

Watching Louis Malle's La Vie Privée was an exercise in patience that finally managed to pay off. It wasn't even the bleak colors (remeniscent of the cheap color prints of the 60's) or the lack of chemistry between Bardot and Mastroianni that pushed the audience to the limit. It was perhaps the stilted dialog, made nearly unbearable by the fact that it was poorly dubbed into English. Maybe the film would have worked better in black and white or as a silent. Maybe not...The films final sequence (stretching over the last seven minutes) redeems nearly all its faults. The carefully composed shots, alternating between the faces of the stars and a play being performed on stage (with a remarkable backdrop of an old Spoletto basilica) empowered by moving music brings us closest to the characters. Once again, the so-called "silent" moment dominates the film, showing us the director's capabilities in full bloom. The tension is enhanced by an increased tempo in editing, leading perfectly to the climax. For what may be a deeply flawed film, I feel bad for the people that left early. Those last seven minutes define great film-making.