Une Femme Mariee (1964)
What Follows is the second in an ongoing series of occasional long form essays.
Une Femme Mariee stands at an interesting crux in Jean-Luc Godard’s career. It saw release in 1964, which was pre-Dziga Vertov Group period Godard, but remains distinctly different to the rest of his output usually tarred with the brush of “Sixties Godard”. In that respect I guess that Une Femme Mariee must be on the line when it comes to distinguishing the work from his other pieces, and in turn would prove quite the forerunner to the direction Godard’s career would later take.
Une Femme Mariee tells the story of Charlotte (Macha Méril), a young Parisian and her tumultuous love life. For not only is she married to airplane pilot Pierre (Philippe Leroy), but she has taken at least one lover, in the guise of Robert (Bernard Noël), a thespian. The film details in extraordinary fashion what appears to initially be a fairly basic story of a universal nature, yet through the eyes of Godard becomes an examination of memory, class, philosophy and righteousness.
Let’s start with the roles of Charlotte’s lovers; both represent polar opposite approaches to existence. Robert is a creative, and uses his heart to allow his life to progress, whereas Pierre is an engineer at heart, rooted in technological reliance and operating on the beckoning of his mind. Each can offer Charlotte something entirely different but equally necessary, and it is this condition that strikes the match that lights the narrative flow. In the opening scene we are introduced to Charlotte and Pierre. The scene reminds tonally of Resnais’ Hiroshima Mon Amour, yet it feels as though it could have perhaps even played during the bedroom sequence in A Bout de Souffle,perhaps as a post-modern take on the unique style associated with that film. In this opening five-minute gambit we are introduced not only to the two main characters, but also through their loose talk we feel as though we have a deep knowledge of their romantic predicament, the family of the as yet unnamed woman, and the attitude towards the situation of Pierre. It is fascinating in its complexity, and has a genuine regard for the intelligence of its viewer when it comes to not pandering to them. It’s worth noting that despite the relatively rigid nature of these opening shots, wherein each is shot against a solid background and movement is rare, the body language speaks volumes. The very first shot involving Pierre avariciously taking hold of Charlotte’s arm is referenced in the final shot of the film wherein he is the first to relinquish her physically. The shots are one and the same, albeit with two very different outcomes. Somehow, despite the revealing nature of the dialogue in this opening sequence there remains a distinctive air of mystery. Perhaps a riff on the adage that “Knowledge is Everything”, Godard is stating here that he is still in full control of what we are seeing, regardless of how much viewer interpretation is available. The use of body parts and camera work to form abstract figures in the anatomy of Macha Méril lead this viewer at one point to being convinced that they had seen the shape of a traditional Hollywood vista on screen.
As briefly mentioned above, the visual style adopted by Godard for Une Femme Mariee is highly reminiscent of Resnais’ Hiroshima Mon Amour, and could have been a reaction to the overt styling that he had become known for as a result of the Nouvelle Vague. Une Femme Mariee feels reactionary on many levels, so this wouldn’t be anything particularly out of the ordinary, and would arguably be expected considering the attitude of the director, but one does have to question quite how this piece fits in with the rest of his oeuvre. The films proceeding and following it both very much fit into the “Sixties Godard” bracket. This backs up the point I made earlier about Une Femme Mariee seeming very much out of character when compared to his work of the time it was produced. It’s a piece that feels like it was produced out of time, yet somehow works. It would seem grandiose to refer to anything as visionary, yet the predictive nature of Une Femme Mariee would suggest that its use here is appropriate.
At several points in the opening scene there are contradictory diagetic sound clashes overlapping with the dialogue, with the reason not only being of experimental cause but apparently to battle the film censors at the time. As a result of risqué dialogue the sounds of aircraft can be heard at random points, accompanied at times by actual shots of aircraft. Obviously this ties into the films finale, where it becomes apparent that the illicit lovers use an airport hotel for the means of their secret meetings, but the implication of the way that this reveals itself adds an air of the experimental nature of Godard’s later work. Coupled with the obscure radio report, detailing the mass emigration of city dwellers to the countryside for a weekend reads like an update on some kind of mass-scale disaster, immediately pushing the subversive nature of the film from the off.
From the use of cinema advertisements for on-screen imitation in A Bout de Souffle to the general nature of Tout Va Bien, via the Louvre scene in Band of Outsiders, subversion has always played a major part in Godard’s work, and Une Femme Mariee doesn’t falter in that respect. Text is strewn across the screen, with many a millisecond being dedicated to individual cuts to and from random pieces of information. The underwear advert/section is the culmination of the films thinly veiled attack on advertising and is echoed not only after the scene (via the two young girls conversation in the café) but is also echoed prior to actually happening. While the very nature of an echo dictates that it couldn’t possibly happen prior to the event it follows existing, somehow in this context it just works. Its remarkable in the sense that suddenly everything all makes a little more sense. Understandably it’s a little odd to proclaim that a scene that celebrates the world of the underwear advertisement can be deemed as an epiphany of sorts, but it truly is! The optimist in this viewer would argue that such a focus on underwear would directly portray the layers of humanity on display in the picture, alas I don’t think Godard would stoop so low. It goes without saying though, that Charlotte’s true nature; the insecurities she feels, the way that the specific products being advertised fill a void and lend an unadulterated insight into her psyche, are only truly revealed at this point. Post-montage the tone of the film is very different, and we feel for her plight in her quest for Robert. In that respect I would draw literal comparisons to the use of underwear as a metaphor for layering and unravelling. There are hundreds of further references to the world of advertising throughout Une Femme Mariee, from the plugging of the obscure Dynamometer to characters on screen in the manner that would later go onto be used more famously in the “Sam Fuller Scene” in Pierrot le Fou to the aforementioned deludes of text hidden away in the background of the scenery.
A technique borne of Shakespeare but refined through its use in advertising, the monologue is the technique most utilised throughout Une Femme Mariee. In total there are seven monologues, with each character that appears on screen for a significant amount of time providing one. The monologues have titles that attach them to a specific theme from the film, with “Memory”, “Intelligence” and “Childhood” being just three of those used. The most significant monologue is that entitled “Theatre and Love”, the final one told by Robert, the lover. The whole film has been building to this point, and it acts to bring the narratives resolution. It is perhaps these monologues that give the film the philosophical edge it holds over its predecessors. Such direct communication with the audience reminds me of something I was told when I first began to look at the nouvelle vague; the world of the film is constantly reminding the viewer that it isn’t real life, it’s a film. This is clear in other ways too, most obviously in the tracking shot through the airport where at one point Godard and cinematographer Raoul Coutard can be seen in the reflection of one of the glass cabinets occupying the space between the camera and the actors. To make matters even more obvious, Coutard is sat in a wheelchair and Godard is Pushing him, producing a dolly type effect, so the “mistake” is fully on display, drawing the viewer out of the world of the movie, as per the intention of the filmmaker. Godard’s role as narrator further adds to this.
Godard’s passion for cinema, still pivotal in his work at the time of Une Femme Mariee’s production is more than apparent. References to the perfect way in which one should sit whilst viewing a film (which just so happens to be true!) alongside such comments as “Cinema is mystery” show Godard at his boldest. These cinematic references sit beside many a literary one too, with a particular favourite being Charlotte’s tome of “To be, or not to be” whilst receiving the results to her pregnancy test. Not only is this use of language incredibly playful (a key trait of his earlier work), but it also adds yet another layer to the deeply stratified overlying piece of work. Thus we can add these references to the aforementioned use of advertisements, as well as the so far unmentioned graffiti and briefly mentioned background conversations (the two girls in the café).
By 1964 Jean-Luc Godard and Raoul Coutard had worked together on several occasions and the evolution in their working relationship is axiomatic on screen. The camera work is incredibly daring, with an incredibly ambitious panning shot used to introduce the viewer to Pierre, Charlotte’s husband for the first time. Bearing in mind that the previous shots have all been largely stagnant, with special note to the still-like tone of the opening shots with Charlotte and Robert, the 180 degree pan that marks the entrance of Pierre seems not only remarkable in its composure, but incredibly telling in its nature. That is to say that the use of such a different style for visually defining Pierre says as much about him as any number of words could. The later scene displayed on screen as a reverse negative was the single most experimental contrivance Godard had put to the screen up until that point, and rather than feeling simply “gimmicky” it is very effective and serves the story, in the respect that we are seeing Charlotte in a different manner to how we have done before. Alongside the attached underwear montage it’s the turning point of the entire film.
When discussing the visual aspects of Une Femme Mariee one cannot bypass the visual language on display in the scenes depicting the acts of love. As outlined earlier on in this piece, the opening love scene is shot in a very precise manner. There is very little movement, lots of dialogue and the body is shot against a block colour background, allowing for the act and the scenery to meld together as one. The final love scene is photographed in the exact same manner, with the narrative that has flowed freely between the two scenes informing the second of them more than anything that is actually on screen. It is what the have been privy to in the preceding 90 minutes that informs the viewer on the state of relations as opposed to an act that actually happens on screen at that exact moment. So, we know how Charlotte feels with regards to Robert, and we know that Roberts interests in Charlotte have somewhat waned, alas we don’t need to be told that in the scene, as a few well placed visual gestures will easily project that in a more effective manner. That’s why the final shot is so perfect, it takes something we already know (the first shot) and subtly tweaks it to the extent that it actually makes for a satisfying conclusion. The love scenes with Pierre the husband work on a similar basis, with one major difference; Pierre’s wedding ring is on full display, informing and reminding of his role in the larger relationship.
Thematically the subject of memory is perhaps the most prevailant. Much of the films running time, up until the underwear montage at least, is dedicated to the plight of Charlotte attempting to remember who she is (metaphorically, not literally) and what it is that she wants from life. I found it an interesting comparison point to Resnais’ Muriel, ou Le temps d’un retour, a film which i took in a viewing of recently. While each of the themes are tackled immediately in the monologues, they are also replicated throughout in both subtle and forthright manners. A personal favourite is the way in which Charlotte’s paranoia has pushed her to the extremes when it comes to getting around town! The reason for such behaviour isn’t immediately clear, but the further we delve the more complicit it seems.
Jean-Luc Godard’s run in the 1960’s is considered by many to be the single greatest body of work in the history of cinema, and with high profile pieces like A Bout de Souffle and Pierrot Le Fou, nestling alongside such relatively obscure fare as Une Femme Mariee, a film which is at once both immensely gratifying yet lingering and thought provoking I would struggle to argue with the general consensus.
