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Mouchette

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  8,05 sobre 10. (Detalles)

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Mouchette 

mensajeMar 24 Oct, 2006 8:55 am.

imagen

TITULO ORIGINAL Mouchette

AÑO 1967

DURACIÓN 78 min.

PAÍS Francia

DIRECTOR Robert Bresson

GUIÓN Robert Bresson (Libro: Georges Bernanos)

MUSICA Jean Wiener

FOTOGRAFÍA Ghislain Cloquet (B&W)

REPARTO Nadine Nortier, Jean-Claude Guilbert, Jean Vimenet, Marie Susini, Marie Cardinal, Paul Hébert

PRODUCTORA Argos Films / Parc Film

SINOPSIS: Retrato de la triste existencia de una chica que es maltratada por su padre y humillada por la gente de su pueblo.

Crítica: Una película excepcional del maestro Bresson, muy difícil de clasificar y decifrar pero su poderío visual, asi como la historia de desesperanza en la dura vida de una niña inconforme con su realidad y con la falta de afecto hacia su persona por parte de los seres que la rodean, hacen de su visionado una experiencia muy agradable al contemplar un cine de calidad alejado totalmente de lo que se nos ofrece en el cine comercial de hoy en día. No hay muchos diálogos pero tampoco los necesita para expresar con sus imágenes todo el rencor que tiene guardado esta niña. Un 9/10

 

 

mensajeMar 24 Oct, 2006 3:17 pm.

Obra maestra incontestable. Por cierto que su final está grabado en mi mente y es uno de los puntos más altos del cinematógrafo: el agua del estanque y Monteverdi, apuntando a la trascendencia (a la que roza como nadie antes ni después).

_______________________
El gran problema del cine es dónde y por qué comenzar un plano y dónde y por qué terminarlo (JLG)
 

 

mensajeMar 24 Oct, 2006 8:45 pm.

Emir

7
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

Obra maestra en su estilo. Lo único que no me convence es el trabajo de los actores, creo que incluso sin buscar una dramatización deliberada, las personas son capaces de interpretar o interpretarse a sí mismas mucho mejor.

_______________________
Je lui dis que mon coeur est comme un grand sac vide...
 

 

mensajeMar 24 Oct, 2006 9:11 pm.

Creo que pocas veces en el cine - o en literatura- ha habido un personaje tan hermético, opaco y misterioso como esta pequeña niña, Mouchette. Las personas son para nuestra subjetividad, al fin y al cabo, cuerpos impenetrables, pura superficie sobre la que interpretamos sus signos. Así pues, Mouchette es como la vida misma; y finalmente el tema central de Bresson es el misterio que esconde el cuerpo, hacia dónde apunta esa materia.

_______________________
El gran problema del cine es dónde y por qué comenzar un plano y dónde y por qué terminarlo (JLG)
 

 

mensajeMie 25 Oct, 2006 6:55 pm.

Emir

7
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

Eso es verdad, en ese aspecto Mouchette es un personaje muy real y desde luego bien definido.

_______________________
Je lui dis que mon coeur est comme un grand sac vide...
 

 

mensajeJue 05 Abr, 2007 3:46 pm.

amenofis

4
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

De momento, y a falta de ver todavia unas cuantas pelis de bresson, esta me parece su obra cumbre.
No creo que se pueda superar, quiza igualar de otra forma.
Por cierto, os habeis fijado que la imagen final es un bucle de unos 3 segundos que va hacia atras y hacia delante hasta que acaba la peli?

_______________________
Las fronteras las dibujan los hombres. A la naturaleza le da igual.
 

 

mensajeJue 05 Abr, 2007 8:31 pm.

Emir

7
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

Sí, ahora que recuerdo, es extraña esa repetición de la escena
Destripamiento:  (Pulse y arrastre sobre el recuadro si desea leer el texto.)
de Mouchette rodando por la orilla hasta caer en el río

_______________________
Je lui dis que mon coeur est comme un grand sac vide...
 

 

mensajeMie 03 Dic, 2008 7:09 pm.

La segunda mejor película europea que he visto detrás de Ordet, un poema fatalista del maestro Bresson.

"Potenciar el más angustioso dramatismo y prolongarlo con un sostenido y estremecedor crescendo. Combinar con maestría genial, precisa y matemática, ciertas oscuridades como las que giran alrededor de esta joven heroína individual, que atesora un enternecimiento purísimo, revalorizado por la audacia experimental, tan potente en su metódico simbolismo cultivador del infortunio, como en la nueva forma expresiva o estética, capaz de retratar costumbres y problemas cotidianos. Incoporar al más atroz de los dramas (aniquilación moral, ese inhumano desvalimiento que nos convierte en seres totalmente incapacitados para enfrentarnos al horror de la vida, ensañamientos a costa de la manifiesta debilidad infantil, senda siempre dolorosa del realismo) algo tan importante y desconocido para el cine: "el silencio". Y poder compararlo, finalmente, pese al elemento conturbador que conlleva, a un sencillo poema lírico, convierte este film en una de las obras más innovadoras y trascendentales de la cinematografía europea. En él se prolonga una emoción de eternidad que jamás mira hacia el horizonte, una desolación descarnada que convierte cualquier mansedumbre en osamenta rota. Toda ilusión, siempre malograda, debe, por tanto, recurrir a dolorosas soluciones de emergencia, o a recursos circunstanciales escalofriantes. Y a la hora del balance, asistimos cariacontecidos a un soberbio poema visual en el que los seres humanos y la Naturaleza aparecen unidos en una fusión casi insoportable de crueldad. Y en el que se rompen las últimas ligaduras que le ataban a la problemática preocupación realista, inspiradora hasta entonces de la estética cinematográfica europea. "Mouchette" se transforma así en uno de los más extraordinarios "melodramas de instintos".


Incomprensión

El pesimismo fue el rasgo común que dominara el conflicto moral ya planteado por el neorrealismo italiano. Pero cuando hubo concluido, nuevas y apremiantes llamadas al amor y a la fraternidad humana recorrieron, a través de la pantalla y de la literatura, esta contradictoria selva de instintos e ideales, esta insaciable ansia de amor, que anida en todos los seres humanos. Pero ¿dónde se halla esa calidad humana imperecedera? ¿Por qué la esperanza de una vida mejor endurece y metaliza tantas veces el corazón de quien debería ser siempre portavoz de las aspiraciones más nobles de nuestras conductas, que es el hombre, y cuyo altruismo perece en su nave existencial como piloto a la deriva incapaz de llegar a buen puerto? Y en esa visión sombría, cimientos sacudidos de la incomprensión, una de las mayores y más violentas llamaradas naturalistas nos vienen impuestas por punzantes parábolas que entre sombras amenazadoras nos abren sus puertas a un terrible antro en el que el mundo adulto interpreta una especie de simbólica rotura con el mundo infantil.

El testimonio social más sensible, que debería hallarse siempre animado también por el más generoso de los alientos humanitarios hacia el niño, nos impone, pues, una severa revisión a esas aplicaciones dramáticas que una vez fueron capaces de convertir la infancia en imágenes empañadas por el sarampión de la más brutal incomprensión. Rejas fronterizas tras las cuales se aherrojara a lo largo de los siglos equilibrio tan inestable como el que animara ambos universos: el del hombre y el del niño. No hallaremos más que eternas amputaciones del cordón umbilical, una distorsión afectiva entre padres e hijos, una desavenencia trágica entre el hombre que alcanza su madurez y es capaz de observar y convertir la infancia, ya confusa en su mente, en un tragedia más epiléptica que reivindicadora; en un existir macabro ya olvidado; en un campo de exterminio donde los niños deambulan como cadáveres anónimos y desorientados. Hallaremos demoledores manifiestos por doquier. Experimentos dolorosos que nacen impetuosamente del rigor, indiferencia y egolatría comodona del adulto. No es casual, por tanto, que la estética naturalista cinematográfica solicitara con evidente preferencia sus temas de los arcanos del caos social y del impactante lirismo con que el oprimido mundo infantil fue capaz de imponernos imágenes que los espectadores ya no olvidaríamos jamás.

Infortunio

Desgarrada entre el cumplimiento de una obligación, frente a la constatación de la inutilidad de una especie de pedagogía de buenos sentimientos a través de una comunidad rural que parece haber perdido toda capacidad de acción, como paralizada por un inexpresable terror a toda esa convivencia ramificadora que mueve el destino humano, pero atentos siempre a la más explícita formulación de su sentido moral, una niña, víctima del horror cotidiano de la pobreza (una madre moribunda que jamás abandonará el lecho miserable; un padre y un hermano alcoholizados que componen un patético oratorio doméstico de vínculos insensibilizados por la desidia, la desesperación y la más lacerante desunión; la perversión que sugiere el desprecio, ciego y difuso, de la colectividad rural, patológico populismo de clases mejor acomodadas, de la que forma parte también el sinuoso mutismo desdeñoso de las compañeras de colegio; y la sórdida degradación moral del amigo que teje un paralelismo, una fusión intolerable con ese realismo despiadado de cuantas penalidades sufre la protagonista, expuesta con toda la ruindad que conlleva la violación) vegeta como un espectro bajo la influencia de la sordidez del medio y de sus relaciones de incomprensión. El film estructura la evolución minuciosamente examinada en ochenta minutos de la psicología de este cadáver (ya lo dije) convertido en niña que habrá de perseguirnos, a través de una nueva técnica documental, ya expresada anteriormente por el neorrealismo que con tanta crudeza nos aproximó a la condición de los humildes, pero con un impactante y novedoso sentido ilustrador de imágenes (nacido por supuesto de la escuela naturalista francesa), entre incisivas y silenciosas anotaciones críticas, entre trémulas dosis de tierna melancolía, un preciso estudio del turbio medio social, aunque tan sólo se trate de una pequeña población de provincias, y una exaltación acerada y arrolladora en la potenciación del sentimiento del individuo (una desgraciada jovencita) contra la cadavérica, intolerante, y mezquina comunidad que la juzga y oprime, para que cuando la veamos componer su inocente alegato de suicidio frente a la degradación del mundo adulto que la rodea, lloremos también como los niños que una vez fuimos.


Un ser desconocido e inconmensurable

Nadine Nortier: (Mouchette) Es el patrón perfecto que pasea entre la brumosa sintaxis cinematográficamente minimalista impuesta por un ascético director como Robert Bresson (y cuyo único objetivo era conseguir que el espectador, enfrentado a una estremecedora veracidad naturalista inexpresable con palabras, penetrase en la esencia interna de sus personajes, obviando su aspecto o sus mínimas expresiones faciales) Esta niña triste y enternecedora, sombra inolvidable que Bresson hizo nacer de una estética llamada de "movimiento interior o anímico", no volvería a interpretar jamás ningún otro film. Nadine Nortier, que no había actuado nunca, logra crear uno de los arquetipos más perfectos de estoico padecimiento y de cuanta fatalidad pueda depararnos el destino. Su interpretación es memorable. Su tragedia nos saja el corazón, "no tan sólo porque signifique un trallazo pasajero en él (indicó un crítico), sino porque, una vez observada, permanece en él y jamás podrá abandonarlo". Mouchette apenas habla. Sus emociones permanecen encubiertas frente a ese lenguaje visual conciso, que la cámara de Bresson recoge, convirtiéndolos en sentimientos ocultos, casi imperceptibles a nuestros sentidos. Y Nadine Nortier, inolvidable, sencilla, directa y eficaz, prodigio de repudio frente a los efectismos más formalistas de la cinematografía mundial, se convierte en un auténtico enigma humano, que prodiga ante el espectador su imperceptible parpadeo, unas veces imperturbable, otras generoso y casi sonriente, las más de las veces huidizo. Pero su rostro, entre el peinado hirsuto que se afianza entre sus miserables lacitos infantiles, baraja sus frustraciones con cierto acento heroico que nos recuerda "un puño cerrado" a punto de rehuir su silencio, y vivir el último jirón de una vida arrinconada que acabará adscribiéndose sin angustias a una postrer solución desesperada."


Fuente: Link

_______________________
"Huesos rotos, botellas rotas, todo esta roto"
 

 

mensajeMie 03 Dic, 2008 7:20 pm.

Said

6
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

Bressoniano escribió:
Obra maestra incontestable. Por cierto que su final está grabado en mi mente y es uno de los puntos más altos del cinematógrafo: el agua del estanque y Monteverdi, apuntando a la trascendencia (a la que roza como nadie antes ni después).


Tranquilamente el final más impactante que haya visto jamás.

_______________________
Jusqu´ici tout va bien....
 

 

mensajeSab 09 May, 2009 12:10 am.

Es lo primero que veo de Bresson y estoy completamente cautivada. A ver si le hinco el diente ya a Pickpocket...

Cita:
Creo que pocas veces en el cine - o en literatura- ha habido un personaje tan hermético, opaco y misterioso como esta pequeña niña, Mouchette. Las personas son para nuestra subjetividad, al fin y al cabo, cuerpos impenetrables, pura superficie sobre la que interpretamos sus signos. Así pues, Mouchette es como la vida misma; y finalmente el tema central de Bresson es el misterio que esconde el cuerpo, hacia dónde apunta esa materia.


Sobre esta idea del caracter escurridizo de la realidad, nunca susceptible de ser retenida por la interpretación, en Mouchette, hay un artículo impecable de Saul Symonds, que allá va (está en inglés, pero se entiende más o menos bien; y me daba no sé qué traducirlo por si lo manoseo mucho...aunque bajo advertencia de que será una traducción un pelín cutre, me ofrezo si a alguien le interesa):

The Anti-Pornographic Seeing of Robert Bresson’s "Mouchette"
by Saul Symonds


"... if you don’t show a succession of things exactly as they are in life, people stop understanding. Pornography has brought that to the cinema, that you must see everything. So the public is now conditioned to films where you show everything. It is terrible, I can’t work anymore. If I can’t make people guess, if I am obliged to show everything, it doesn’t interest me to work."

- Robert Bresson interviewed by Paul Schrader (1)


In the above comment Bresson offers a definition of pornography that touches upon issues central to his singular method of filmmaking. He defines pornography in terms of seeing. The desire to see everything is equated with obscenity, and Bresson comments to Paul Schrader a little further on in the same interview: "....when you see too much, it is not mysterious anymore" (2). In his films Bresson is concerned to convey intact the mystery that lies thrown about the most casual and ordinary details of life. And if he approaches this mystery in a religious way, he nevertheless gives it an unorthodox tonality -- for him it is the mystery of a Presence that could be called God, but which he seems to prefer to position as ultimately inxplicable. It is the feeling of God rather than the thought of God, or in less religious terminology, it is the feeling that everything, especially the most ordinary things, are always accompanied by a dimension or depth of being that escapes explanation. For Bresson, seeing becomes pornographic when it creates the illusion that we can and have seen everything. Such an illusion destroys the mystery of being by transforming it into a deadened material object. In opposition to this pornography of seeing, Bresson’s seeing, and therefore Bresson’s filmmaking, is always suggestive of an emotional, and ultimately spiritual reality that extends beyond the visible image. Bresson wants to both show and suggest. This dual aim, however, creates a peculiar contradiction in Bresson’s films: he wants to show and he refuses to show. His films present clear concrete events and realities but, simultaneously, they refuse to release a clear concrete meaning. This disjunction between clarity of vision and opaqueness of meaning is, at least for me, one of the characteristic marks of Bresson’s films. His films present a realistic but resistant surface, (not only of images but equally of sounds), a surface that I always find myself trying to penetrate.

The connection between pornography, seeing, and meaning is particularly pertinent to Bresson’s Mouchette. This pertinence is quite complex and needs to be carefully teased apart thread by thread. In the first place, Mouchette like all of Bresson’s films, has been so extensively commented upon that it is difficult to really see it. "It is very difficult to see things" Bresson tells Schrader. "So many times you go walking in the street, you look at things, but you don’t see them." Then Bresson says something far more interesting and unusual, "If you see the look in a man’s eyes and at the same time see the reason why he is looking as he is, you are not touched [my italics]" (3). That is, if you see the "reason why he is looking", then your understanding interferes with the pure act of seeing and sets limits to your emotional response: you see what you think you know, not what is actually there, and you respond on the basis of your knowledge and not on the basis of your seeing. In relation to Mouchette the difficulty of seeing is augmented by a now conventional tendency to view Bresson’s films in terms of suffering and redemption, as a movement through an environment dominated by socialized corruption, stupidity and cruelty to a cathartic spiritualized release. That such meanings can be well justified by analyzing structures right across Bresson’s oeuvre in no way solves the problem of someone who really wants to see Mouchette. In order to see there seems to be no remedy except to ignore such interpretations and look at the film as though you were a total idiot (after some short time I achieved this ideal). And this was not, in fact, as unusual an activity as it sounds. It was my same old activity of trying to penetrate to the meanings beyond the resistant surface of Bresson’s films. I found myself asking over and over: who is Mouchette? In one sense, she is the film. So, who is Mouchette? An adolescent girl, rebellious, living without hope. But here language betrays us, (as it must always betray the critic who attempts the translation of film into words). Mouchette does not live without hope. She is perhaps the only character we are shown that cannot live without hope. Her mother is the opposite. From the very beginning she is without hope: a "stone" in her chest is pulling her down. Except for a brief scene shown before the opening credits, we only ever see her in one light: lying helpless in bed. She is dying and she dies. Mouchette takes care of her. She comes home after school and kneels by her bedside. This kneeling has religious overtones with a characteristic Bressonian inflection: the mystery of death hovers about her, and Mouchette knows it. In contrast to her mother, who truly has nothing, Mouchette has herself. What she doesn’t have is a world in which that self can grow. There are tragic elements here, but Bresson does not give us a tragedy. He gives us a simple statement about Mouchette that sums-up her dreams and the impossibility of her dreams. And it is her awareness of the impossibility of their realization, (ours too), that constitutes the true sadness of her life, (and by implication, the true sadness of our own lives). But in that conceptual constellation of pornography, seeing, and meaning I have, so far, only talked about the link between seeing and meaning. It is necessary to cycle back and explore the link between pornography and meaning in Mouchette, because the Bressonian mystery does not only come to Mouchette in the presence of death, but equally and also, in the presence of sex.

Several times during the Schrader interview, Bresson expresses the opinion that young people are not only "fragile, sensitive" (4) but that they "need something to live" (5). It’s a simple enough thought but one which allows us to focus on Mouchette in a fresh light. Mouchette too ‘needs something’. I think it is something quite simple and everyday: she needs someone to make love to her and to show her genuine warmth and affection. It is not human redemption or the trumpets of the Last Judgment or spiritual rebirth that she needs. It is something that belongs to the senses and the heart. And it is because Mouchette cannot find this genuine physical and emotional love in real life, cannot find this life in life, that she goes to find it in death. Her suicide is one of those complicated meanings in a Bresson film: her death is not a simple denial of life, it is a refusal to accept the emptiness of the world around her, and in a very real sense, it is the assertion of her own self-value and self-truth. Mouchette’s need, the need around which the whole films pivots, is inherently sexual. I did not see it at first, but sex inhabits the heart of this film. I will not harp on the more obvious scenes that establish its presence, (her schoolmates perfuming themselves and being picked up by young boys on their motorbikes after school; the two boys who expose themselves when she passes; her flirting with the young man at the fair; the way she is squeezing the water from her stocking when Arsène finds her in the woods, etc), but I do want to look at how Bresson’s clarity of vision and opacity of meaning combine to imbue key scenes in the film with the simultaneous revelation and concealment of sexual meaning.

This revelation and concealment of sexual meaning manifests itself most notably in the rape of Mouchette by M. Arsène. Bresson carefully builds up to this scene, carefully chooses what we will see and what we will not see. We might start with Mouchette caught in a storm and found my M. Arsène in the woods. (Bresson’s visualization of the storm complete with a sudden downpour that passes leaving the distant moon illuminating a dark sky from behind ragged and broken wind-driven clouds is a moment that is all Romanticist restlessness, emotion, and mystery -- a gesture that suggests that Mouchette’s suffering is not just a function of her social isolation, but equally of her inner yearning for ‘romance’, in every sense of that word.) When Arsène finds Mouchette she is putting on a stocking that she had just taken off to squeeze dry of water. There is an implicit sexual threat here, a sense that Mouchette is at the mercy of this man, but it is a threat that Bresson lets pass. It seems that Arsène is content simply to offer his help. Later, when Mouchette is drying herself in Arsène’s makeshift hide in the woods, Bresson allows sexuality to surface again when Arsène asks, "Anyone see you". Again, Bresson lets the threat pass. Later that night in his home M. Arsène confesses to Mouchette that he has killed Mathieu the gamekeeper. And we see Mouchette, for the first time opening up to another person: she puts her hand on Arsène and says he can trust her. Her sense of closeness to him becomes explicit when she says that she hates "them' -- "them" being the rest of the villagers. When Arsène has an attack of epilepsy she kneels beside him, holds him in her arms, actually cradles him. (The mother image here is very strong and makes us aware that Mouchette’s adolescence not only positions her on the brink of awakening sexuality, but that folded within and beneath her sexual need is a potentiality and desire for motherhood. In fact, while Mouchette’s mother is dying at home, Mouchette performs all the functions of a mother: she cooks, cares for the family, and is the only person we ever see changing or feeding the baby. There is a lot more we could say about this adolescent-girl-mother-image in general, and in particular about the identification of Mouchette with her mother which we see not only in the fact that Mouchette acts out the mother’s role, but also in a felt equivalence between the mother’s slow dying and the slow extinguishing of Mouchette’s own inner life-flame. It is not insignificant that when the mother dies Mouchette’s ability to dream her dream of sexual and emotional love dies too. But we should get back to Arsène’s hut.) Mouchette smiles briefly, but clearly, as she looks down at Arsène. Then she sings to him. (The song is one that she refused to sing in class, "Have faith in hope ... in three days Colombus told them..." Now she sings it here as she cradles Arsène, as if here -- acting out the role that she needs and that she dreams of -- she can hope.) She smiles queitly again. And again. Arsène gets up. Mouchette is still kneeling, (still in the presence of the Bressonian silence and mystery). (I have tried to follow all this in some detail because in this build-up to Mouchette’s rape, Bresson establishes a number of complicated and contradictory meanings: he establishes Mouchette’s sexuality and suggests Arsène’s sexual threat only to conceal them both; he suggests Mouchette’s fragility and Arsène’s power only to invert their meanings when Mouchette cradles Arsène; and as we shall see, he establishes their solidarity only to shatter it. Or does he?) Mouchette picks up her schoolbag. When she goes to leave, Arsène won’t let her pass. His whole demeanour seems to change. He threatens to kill her if she tells anyone about his confession concerning Mathieu. (From the initial trust Arsène showed in confessing to this suspicion, the distance could not be greater. Or more sudden.) He moves closer, extends his arm, and slowly he puts his hand around her. Mouchette is startled and pushes him away. She runs. Crouches under a table. He overturns the table. She runs and falls on her back by the fire. (This fire, blazing away as it is, is an image any Romanticist would be proud to own as a means of expressing the blaze of sexual feeling. But whose sexual feeling is it: Mouchette’s or Arsène’s? This question, which may seem perverse now, will become clear before long.) Arsène throws himself on top of her. Mouchette flays her arms. We see her resist. But then Bresson lets us see something surprising, lets us see her arms embrace Arsène’s back. Her fingers open and then press into his back in a gesture that suggests either pleasure or the release of some deep pent-up emotion. Here we have arrived at a point of maximum tension between Bresson’s clarity of vision and opacity of meaning. And it’s an opacity Bresson never fully dispels. We are in no doubt as to the fact that Arsène has raped Mouchette, but we are never clear whether she views her rape as ‘rape’. It is true that she returns home later that night clearly upset, her face wet with tears. Later, when she wakes, it is still wet with tears. But although we see her tears, we cannot construe them unambiguously. And we cannot do this because Bresson does not allow us to. The first thing Mouchette does when she returns home from Arsène’s is to warm up the baby’s milk. She wipes a tear and picks up the baby. For the first time in the entire film, her shirt is open so that we see the flesh of the top of her left breast as if she is about to breastfeed the baby. Later, when she explains to her mother that she was caught in the cyclone, her mother queries, "What cyclone are you talking about?" And Mouchette replies, "It was a cyclone ... wasn’t it a cyclone?" This uncertainty as to the meaning of the storm struck me at first as almost surreal, as something out of phase with the rest of the film. Another case of Bressonian opacity that commands us to see. Was it a cyclone? (And it was Arsène who told Mouchette, "Listen to the cyclone".) Or was it just ‘rain’ as Mathieu construes it later when he too challenges her claim that she was caught in the cyclone. The meaning of ‘cyclone’ and the meaning of ‘rain’ stand in the same relation to each other as ‘extraordinary’ stands in relation to ‘ordinary’. Was it then something extraordinary or something ordinary that happened that night? Did Mouchette feel something full of the confusion and meaning of her own desiring dreams? Did she listen to a cyclone? The fact is, Bresson suggests but does not let us see. We see that she wants to tell her mother what happened, but we never learn exactly what she was going to say. After her mother’s death we see how the villager’s alternately show Mouchette sympathy and suspicion. The storekeeper who offers her coffee and croissants catches sight of a scratch above her breast where her shirt is open and calls her a "slut". Mouchette clutches her shirt and walks out, defiant. When Mathieu (whom she thought had been killed by Arsène) calls Mouchette into his kitchen to ask her some questions, his wife takes a piece of straw from Mouchette’s hair and makes no secret of what she suspects. It is Mouchette’s rebellious outburst, however, that is most surprising. "M. Arsène is my lover, ask him your questions." Another moment of maximum opacity. We saw Arsène rape her, but what did we see? What did Mouchette feel?

Opacity surfaces again in the film’s final scene. We hear shooting. A church bell. Rabbits running through the long grass. Shots. A rabbit tumbles. Mouchette runs to it. Sound of a bell. She looks at the rabbit. Turns away. (The impossibility of living in a world whose stupidity and cruelty destroy everything natural, beautiful, is one way of seeing Mouchette’s response to the villagers’ shooting at rabbits, but I pass over it here as this way of seeing Bresson has been extensively mined.) Mouchette goes to the riverbank. Sound of a bell. Unfolds a dress she was given. Looks at the river. Rolls down to the bank holding the dress against her. In the mid-distance a tractor drives by. Mouchette’s face brightens. She runs a few steps. Waives at the man on the tractor. He looks at her for a moment, then turns away. She looks down, dejected. Sound of a bell. Slowly and deliberately she walks back to the river. Tries to roll into the river. Stops on a bush. While she walks back up the bank, Bresson holds on image of the bush and the water. Rolls. Rolls again. A splash. Bresson holds on image of the bush and the water. This final scene is very well-known. Many interpretations of Bresson see everything as flowing towards his films’ final scenes. It is not hard to justify this view, and the final scene of Mouchette is no exception. All the film’s previous scenes are defined by its meaning. It is not hard to see it as a moment of redemptive liberation that brings into painfully sharp focus the emptiness of the life of the village, an emptiness whose ubiquitousness positions suicide as Mouchette’s only exit. My interest in this scene, however, lies in the moment before we see Mouchette’s utter dejection. Who was the man on the tractor whose presence seemed to lift her spirits for a moment? Did she think he was Arsène? There is no other character who we as viewers have been introduced to that she would have felt any closeness towards. Just the opposite. With the exception of Arsène everyone else falls within the category of a despised ‘them’. From the distance the tractor driver’s shirt and cap suggest a resemblance to Arsène. So did Mouchette mistakenly think that he was Arsène? Was that the cause of her disappointment? We never know because Bresson does not allow us to see, and yet, it would be difficult to account for her sudden surprise, brightening, and then dejection on the basis of any other assumption. Perhaps this question was of no concern to Bresson. His interest in this scene may lie elsewhere. After all, Bresson tells Schrader, "I don’t want to show you anything especially. I want to make people feel life as I do: that life is life" (6). Bresson’s interest may be more concerned with the fact that this last flash of hope was an empty illusion, a final let-down that made Mouchette deeply aware that her need for sexual and emotional love could never find a place to exist in this world. It may well be this sense of emptiness and impossibility that Bresson wants us to feel, but the degree to which we can genuinely feel this depends upon the degree to which we can enter into the sexual desire that dreams at the core of Mouchette’s character, and this in turn commits us to seeing the meaning of the sexual link between Mouchette and Arsène.

Bresson does not let us see Mouchette’s death, but he gives us its presence. He gives us a living action -- Mouchette rolling over and over down a grassy riverbank -- that ends in silence and mystery. (Again, it is possible to ask here: did Mouchette die? We don’t see her drown, and although this enquiry could be said to run contrary to the film’s felt affective direction, Bresson himself has opened the door for such a question by making us believe that Mathieu was dead. Arsène even describes how he watched Mathieu’s blood pour into the stream where he lay face down, yet when Mathieu appears the next day we cannot see even a sign of any injury. Another Bressonian challenge to seeing that we will not take up here.) In opposition to a pornography of seeing that offers only a clarity that cascades into more and more graphic depictions of detail, Bresson wishes to give us a mode of seeing which is as sensitive to the way in which ordinary things and events reflect mystery as it is to the way in which they reflect light. Bresson’s images and events are surrounded by mystery. His sounds are surrounded by silence. In one sense life, death, sexual desire, and Mouchette are all equally surrounded by silence and mystery. (And it is our ability to make this equation that constitutes our recognition of Mouchette’s ‘self-truth’, that is to say, of her difference from everyone else in the film.) We can understand and appreciate this. We can understand it as a function of Bresson’s attempt to place seeing and feeling on a single continuum, to let one flow into the other. We can understand that Bresson, like other artists in film and in other fields before him and after him, has committed himself to suggestion. But the artistic medium does not always respond how the artist expects, even when the artist is a master. Before a film by Bresson, I think I will always experience the resistance of his surfaces, the opposition between his clarity of vision and his opacity of meaning. I think I will always find myself trying to penetrate through that surface, and I think the meanings will always wait a step or two just beyond my grasp.



Endnotes
(1) Paul Schrader, "Robert Bresson, Possibly", Film Comment (September-October 1977) p.30
(2) ibid. p.30
(3) ibid. p.29
(4) ibid. p.28
(5) ibid. p.29
(6) ibid. p.27


Fuente: http://www.lightsleepercinemag.com/reviews/mouchette.php

 

 

mensajeVie 08 Ene, 2010 3:37 pm.

Pues la tengo desde hace tiempo, pero aún no la he visto.
Es que con Bresson, aunque me encante, hay que armarse de paciencia.

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La historia del cine es más grande que la del resto porque se proyecta.
 

 

mensajeDom 23 Ene, 2011 8:54 am.

Bresson en estado puro, increible uso de las imágenes y las sombras (la película la entendería perfectamente sin diálogos) y tapizada con un increible neorrealismo que hace que una vez finalizada la película sintamos desprecio por la raza humana [ malo ] y es que como he leido por ahí aqui no hay denuncia, ni mensajes, ni nada, Bresson se limita a mostrar las cosas con su austeridad y maestria usuales y claro está en mi caso me ha dejado el corazón en un puño.

Vamos, que me ha parecido un peliculón.

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Cinefilo de Novena Categoria
 

 

mensajeVie 04 Jul, 2014 8:14 pm.

Michel

6
Sexo:Sexo:Hombre

Puede que no sea la mejor de Bresson en términos de depuración estilística, pero sí la más hermosa y humana. La última escena es una de las más poderosamente trascendentales del cine.

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"Somos lo que comemos y somos lo que hicimos con el balón" (Lobo Carrasco)
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