The Desire to be Demeaned, or Getting What You Deserve? : A Review of Buñuel's "Belle de Jour"

Matisse Ventura

MCLG 522

4/15/14

The simplest and most ubiquitous plot summary provided in analyses and introductions of Buñuel’s 1967 production, Belle de Jour, starring Catherine Deneuve as Séverine/Belle de Jour, is that Séverine is a masochist and the way in which she brings her perversions and fantasies to actuality is by becoming a prostitute during her free weekday afternoons (Sabbadini 7). This is often stated as an obvious and given fact. While a strong argument for this interpretation certainly can be made, I will not start my review with this simplistic view of the plot, as it is too widely accepted by film critics and should be questioned just as all other aspects of the film are.

In contrast to Buñuel’s L’Age d’Or (1930), Belle de Jour, at the surface level (meaning the clearly connected plot and sequential events), can definitely be seen as a more “conventional” film, however, in some ways it is more confusing and disorienting than that clearly surrealist film aforementioned. Belle de Jour is based on the 1928 novel by Joseph Kessel of the same name, in which an attractive young bourgeois wife refuses to have sex with her handsome, desirable husband and instead begins to work as a prostitute in a brothel, which she hides from him until the very end. The movie follows the structure of the novel fairly closely with the exception of several dream/fantasy sequences interspersed throughout the film that are purely the work of Buñuel. The confusing element comes into play when it is not immediately obvious to the viewer that these are in fact dream sequences as they lack many of the signals Buñuel often includes in his work to distinguish them, such as drums or chimes. In fact, the movie is almost completely void of sound, and no score accompanies it, lending it a kind of timeless feel, which he would not be able to do had he included popular music of the day.

The film differs from the novel also in the ending, which is shot in a way that can be interpreted as offering three different possible outcomes (Sarris, 294). In both the novel and the film, it appears that Husson tells Pierre everything, but it is not explicitly shown, leaving room for doubt in the viewer’s mind. In the novel, however, Severine confesses to him herself. By contrast, in the film she does not confess and she is neither rewarded nor punished. Interestingly, the film closes in the same way it opens, with the question, “Séverine, what are you thinking about?” (Sarris 295) which at first glance could be the suggestion that the entire film was an elaborate dream sequence, as argued by one French critic, but is not likely based on knowledge of Buñuel’s particular surrealist style (Sarris 294).

While the argument can be made that Séverine is a masochist and being a prostitute satisfies these desires by the nature that is it demeaning from the novel alone, Buñuel’s added dream sequences lend much more strength to this argument. In each, Séverine is seen abused in some way by the men around her. In some she is tied up, shot at, has mud thrown on her, is raped, is beaten, etc. These sequences are interpreted as her daydreams by being followed by the question, “Séverine, what are you thinking about?” but I fail to see strong evidence that these are meant to be seen as desired by her. It seems like something assumed by the author based on possible projections of their own rather than supported by logic and evidence.

I do see supporting evidence in the sequences at the brothel, in which she appears at ease, in her element, and even satisfied after certain encounters, which is very much in contrast to her demeanor at home. However, when many critics point to her desire to work in a brothel and her refusal to be intimate with her stereotypically desirable husband as a desire to be demeaned, I see it as possibly telling what she thinks of her own self-worth as a result of the molestation she suffered as a child, which is revealed to us in a flashback/memory sequence. Knowing that experiences of rape and molestation often lead to confusion and feelings of being unclean and unworthy in the victims, it seems more likely that Séverine refuses her husband’s advances not because he is too kind and too considerate of her when she in fact desires him to be less so, but rather because she feels unworthy of his devotion. There is the possibility that she turns to the brothel not because she seeks out a submissive situation in which to gain her own sexual satisfaction, but perhaps because she feels it is where she belongs, as someone whose purity and honor had been compromised as a child.

The arguments of some that we are shown the sequence of possible molestation in order to reveal that “her psychic need for brutal degradation” was “first awakened by a malodorous molester” (Sarris 290) is both horribly disrespectful to victims of molestation and dangerous in the way it perpetuates rape culture. It is far too dismissive of the complicated psychological  after-effects of an experience such as Séverine’s to argue that it merely awakened the need to be degraded rather than caused it by damaging her feelings of self-worth and removes all culpability from the molester. While a strong argument for Séverine having masochistic desires can be made, it is entirely too dismissive of the effects of molestation to not include in the discussion the possibility that we are seeing results of her trauma rather than just one person’s particular sexual desires. Both possibilities should be considered as sexual trauma is far too delicate and damaging of a situation to be taken lightly. Therefore, Belle de Jour could be seen as a study in how we humans go about understanding, expressing and satisfying our sexual desires, regardless of from where they originated.

Aside from a possible light-handed treatment of the tricky subject of sexual molestation, the movie does have an overall subversive message of the status quo, as Buñuel’s films typically do. True to surrealist ideals, Buñuel seeks to upend various roles or power structures of society. In the case of Belle de Jour, it is the gender paradigm which is subverted. Even without punishing or rewarding Séverine at the end of the film, her ability to utilize a clearly patriarchal system usually used to degrade and control women (prostitution) to her own advantage (to fulfill her sexual needs) is powerfully subversive and sophisticated.

Obras Citadas

Sabbadini, Andrea. “Of Boxes, Peepholes, and Other Perverse Objects. A Psychoanalitic Look at Luis Buñuel’s Bell de Jour” Williams, Peter & Isabell Santaolalla. Luis Buñuel. New Readings. London. BFI, 2004. p. 117-127.

Sarris, Andrew. “The Beauty of Belle de Jour.” En Mellen, Joan. The World of Luis Buñuel. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978 p.289-296.

No Place for a Saint: A Review of Buñuel's "Nazarín"

Produced in 1958 in Mexico, Nazarín is inspired by the novel of the same title by Benito Pérez Galdós (1895). Nazarín is the title character, a young catholic priest who also goes by the name Padre Nazario. The movie follows fairly closely the structure of the Spanish picaresque novel, in which the narrative travels along following the protagonist who is often a bit of an outcast or of a lower class in society, through a serial set of adventures, each one forming a mini-story framed within a loosely-connected or non-existent overarching plot. Adhering to the typical picaresque structure, the hero (or anti-hero as he may be) is accompanied through his adventures by a sidekick, two in this case.

However, here the plot varies from the typical structure in that the sidekicks, rather than propelling the plot and the hero forward through the stories, are the source of many of his problems and setbacks. They do at times act as catalysts moving Nazario from one adventure to the next, but rather than helping the hero move all three of them in a positive direction and elevating their statuses/situations through his cunning and wit, they drag him down to their much lower level (which is saying something seeing as he had been living amongst the poor). It is common in that genre for the hero to be of a higher social status than his sidekicks, but usually both are of relatively low classes and the two fit together in an accepted hierarchy: the knight with his squire, the shepherd and the musician, etc. However in Nazarín, the sidekicks are completely inappropriate choices for this particular hero, a catholic priest, as they are two prostitutes.

Also differing from the picaresque structure is the outcome of each of Nazarín’s adventures; rather than being successful and satirical in his exploits, he is constantly failing and ending up more miserable, pitiful, pathetic and embroiled than before, but he stodgily carries on trying. In this way, he arguably forms a kind of 19th century Mexican Don Quixote, who, like Quixote, only hopes and strives to do good, be successful and adhere to the ways of his heros (in Quixote’s case, the knights of old, and in Nazarín’s, Jesus), but only manages to fail and have all his good intentions go awry. As in Don Quixote, the outcomes of the hero’s adventures provoke more pity than humor in the viewer as the hero becomes so pathetic one feels too bad to even laugh at his folly and misfortune. The bumbling hero who refuses to be deterred from his quest is at first comical, but quickly passes that stage to become pitiful.

However, keeping with picaresque tradition (and in contrast to Don Quixote), the ending is left open and ambiguous, leaving room for the story to continue and the hero to have a never-ending series of adventures. This ambiguity represents an element common throughout Buñuel’s work; even in his more “commercial” and “normal” films he manages to slip in some of his beloved surrealist imagery and ambiguity. For example, the same drum beats that appear at the end of L’Age d’Or also accompany the final scene of Nazarín, suggesting that the viewer draw some comparisons between the endings of the two films, the former being decidedly surrealist and the latter rather not.

The reason for Nazarín’s constant and continuing failure is most likely part of statement on the part of Buñuel. The film arguably questions three major elements: the catholic church, society, and Padre Nazario himself. Nazarín critiques the catholic church most clearly through the actions of Nazario and the consequences he receives from his superiors: the church holds that it is for the poor, in the service of the poor, but the priest who tries to live amongst said poor and give his last bit of food, money and shelter to those in need, is defrocked and cast out by the church. Clearly, this is Buñuel calling the church hypocritical and perhaps suggesting that they have strayed too far from their original intent: that catholicism should be the religion of the poor, and has become too mired down in the weight of their own hierarchical structure of power to be beneficial to the world. One might go so far as to suggest Buñuel meant quite simply that the church has outlived its purposefulness. This is not a far stretch as critiques of the catholic church or at the very least, the priests and monks that represent it, can be found in nearly, if not all of Buñuel’s films.

The critique of Padre Nazario comes in the form of two questions: man or saint, and saint of heretic? Or is he both? Nazario foolishly believes that the two women travel with him because they want to be saved, and when he realizes this is not the case, this comes as a surprise to him. This begs the question in the viewer’s mind: was he really just that naive, or was he buying into his own delusions? As the movie continues he transforms from priest to man, but does that mean he can’t still be a good person? As to the second question, Padre Nazario flirts with the line between rebel priest and heretic. He follows the laws and life of Jesus to the letter, but in doing so goes against the established order of his church. This contradiction brings forth the following: in order to be a good christian, which does one follow, the church, or the founder?

The final of the three main critiques is that of society. At the base of it all, why does a fundamentalist christian, a person who follows the life of Jesus to the letter, who lives his life as a saint would, fail so spectacularly both within the church and in life at large? The answer most simply put is, there is no room for saints in our society. I argue this critique is the most important of all because it encompasses the other two. The catholic church does not exist in a vacuum, nor does the individual. Both exist upon the greater stage of society, society is the backdrop against which everything else takes place and it influences everything. Buñuel argues, change society, and many of the other problems we see will solve themselves. Change the root and the tendrils that branch off from it will change as well. Poverty, racism, the uselessness of the church and religion, the failures of the individual, these are just symptoms, not the disease itself. The fact that society cannot currently accommodate an individual of the likes of Jesus himself tells us that society is sick.

Several scenes toward the end of Nazarín (the scene in the prison and the pineapple scene), suggest that due to the current situation we exist in, the good, the bad, none of it makes a difference. Nazario is dangerous and therefore made to fail because he questions the established order and makes people question their own actions, something with which they are not comfortable. Clearly, as much as society says it wants to eradicate poverty, it cannot exist without it, and if there’s anything that people consistently do, it’s defend the status quo. Buñuel clearly wanted to make a statement about these issues, but being so against fundamentalists of any kind that he was, he would stop short of suggesting any radical way to solve these issues, or, any way at all. Buñuel did not set out to solve the world’s problems with his work, rather, he set out to make people question it and themselves.