Or just one: a vintage review in honor of its appearance on Netflix instant, Catherine Breillat's Une Vielle Maitresse -
Catherine Breillat, a director with whom I have no prior experience, is apparently noted for her disturbing, probingly intense visions of female sexuality and the thorny navigations of sexual politics.
Marigny, a man about to marry the love of his life, relates the story of his tempestuous relationship with the woman known as Vellini, his former mistress, to his fiancee’s grandmother; but the telling, meant to prove his removal from the subject, is more indicative of his attachment.
The movie is actually rather straightforward in a lot of ways: it’s a sumptuous period piece, rich with intelligent color design, a marvelously faithful set, and the kind of romanticized passion narrative we usually expect from any movie involving bodices or the ripping thereof.
It says something about the intelligence of the narrative that moments that should be truly outrageous (as when Vellini, the mistress in question, leaps onto the body of her lover and begins to lap at his fresh bullet wound) engage us more deeply rather than pull us completely away from the action.
It helps that the leads of the story are stunningly attractive, though Asia Argento, as Vellini, is less perfectly wrought than her male counterpart Marigny ( the “luscious“ Fu’ad Ait Aattou).
As in another favorite, “Lust, Caution,” sex in “The Last Mistress” is not the means to an end, or any kind of clarifying force. Vellini and Marigny do not have sex for the usual cinematic reasons. The compulsiveness of the act is what the movie tries both to relay and explain. Just because, as in the first picture, frantic coupling ensues upon tiger’s head rugs, doesn’t mean the movie belongs in the category of romance. Marigny is obsessed with Vellini; and she with him. But whether or not they love each other is unimportant. It’s a question that’s never quite raised, because it’s a question that Breillat has no interest in. Marigny claims, again and again, to love his virginal bride, far more than he ever loved Vellini - but the movie moves to destroy the hazy idealism associated with the word “love.” Marigny’s true love for another does not diminish the strength of the violent connection he has with Vellini.
This is not a movie about two halves of one soul finally finding each other, or about the satisfaction of honorable self-abnegation, or even about the justifications of passion. There are no justifications; but no need for them. Rather, we find that certain outcomes are unavoidable, certain downfalls inevitable and acceptable. Momentum ought not to be opposed, or maligned.
Or as Bidart says:
Marigny, a man about to marry the love of his life, relates the story of his tempestuous relationship with the woman known as Vellini, his former mistress, to his fiancee’s grandmother; but the telling, meant to prove his removal from the subject, is more indicative of his attachment.
The movie is actually rather straightforward in a lot of ways: it’s a sumptuous period piece, rich with intelligent color design, a marvelously faithful set, and the kind of romanticized passion narrative we usually expect from any movie involving bodices or the ripping thereof.
It says something about the intelligence of the narrative that moments that should be truly outrageous (as when Vellini, the mistress in question, leaps onto the body of her lover and begins to lap at his fresh bullet wound) engage us more deeply rather than pull us completely away from the action.
It helps that the leads of the story are stunningly attractive, though Asia Argento, as Vellini, is less perfectly wrought than her male counterpart Marigny ( the “luscious“ Fu’ad Ait Aattou).
As in another favorite, “Lust, Caution,” sex in “The Last Mistress” is not the means to an end, or any kind of clarifying force. Vellini and Marigny do not have sex for the usual cinematic reasons. The compulsiveness of the act is what the movie tries both to relay and explain. Just because, as in the first picture, frantic coupling ensues upon tiger’s head rugs, doesn’t mean the movie belongs in the category of romance. Marigny is obsessed with Vellini; and she with him. But whether or not they love each other is unimportant. It’s a question that’s never quite raised, because it’s a question that Breillat has no interest in. Marigny claims, again and again, to love his virginal bride, far more than he ever loved Vellini - but the movie moves to destroy the hazy idealism associated with the word “love.” Marigny’s true love for another does not diminish the strength of the violent connection he has with Vellini.
This is not a movie about two halves of one soul finally finding each other, or about the satisfaction of honorable self-abnegation, or even about the justifications of passion. There are no justifications; but no need for them. Rather, we find that certain outcomes are unavoidable, certain downfalls inevitable and acceptable. Momentum ought not to be opposed, or maligned.
Or as Bidart says:
Our not-love is like a man running down
a mountain, who, if he dares to try to stop,
falls over—
i'm a big proponent of momentum.
ReplyDeleteand please can every post have an ang lee & bidart reference please.