082 - Mouchette, 1967, France. Dir. Robert Bresson.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

082 - Mouchette, 1967, France. Dir. Robert Bresson.

Mouchette is a pretty girl.  She has ribbons in her hair.  She sings with a pretty voice, when she sings.  She helps her sick mother, takes care of her baby brother, cleans, and does the dishes.  She is intelligent and insightful.  She has something to offer.

But Mouchette is an outcast.

Her father is an alcoholic.

He never seems to be around except just when something good is about to happen to her.  He shows up and pushes her.  Scolds her.  Makes her feel small.

The town talks about her.

Her classmates avoid her.

In their defense, she positions herself in a low place off the school road.  When the other girls sit and eat, talk, pull out perfume, she throws dirt clods at them, hits them in the back, in the hands, in the chest, in the face.

She is not doing herself any favors here.

She is responsible here for her own behavior.

But we care about her.  We want someone to show her kindness.

She stands in class with the others and does not sing.  The teacher yanks her to the front of the classroom, holds her head down to the piano, hits the notes.

What is wrong with you?

Why will you not sing?

Sing!

Mouchette begins to sing but she hits a note flatly.

The teacher is annoyed.  Mouchette tries again.  The teacher hits the key hard.  Pound, pound, pound.  This is the note.  Why can you not hit it?

What is wrong with you?

Mouchette goes to the amusement park, the county fair.  She rides the bumper cars.  A boy hits her with his car.  He smiles at her.  She smiles back.  She hits him back.  Hitting on by hitting.  Flirting by bumping.

When the ride is over they walk out.  She goes to him, stands by him, smiles at him.

He smiles at her and is about to say something.  She smiles at him and is about to say something.

And in this moment Mouchette has hope.  And we have hope for her.

But her father arrives and smacks her.  Pushes her.  Calls her a name.  Drags her away.

The song they were singing in school began with the line, "Hope is dead."

She will never see this boy again.

Robert Bresson shows us difficulty, hardship.  With yesterdays movie, Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) (081, March 22), and today's, he focuses on suffering.

And he does it in such a way that the viewer is willing to go along with him.  He does not indulge in sentimentality.  He tells the story.

There are few things more dishonest than playing the victim.  Pointing the finger.  Refusing to take personal responsibility.  Claiming everything bad in your life is someone else's fault.

And some film directors attempt to manipulate their audiences with that point of view.  Playing with the public.  Toying with its heart.  Cloying.

Bresson states the facts.

Arsene the poacher sets traps for wild game.  Mathieu the gamekeeper watches him from behind the trees.  Arsene catches a wild bird in his trap.  The bird is caught.  There is nothing the bird can do.

Mouchette lives in a world of traps.  She tries to make her way.  She gets caught, trapped, ensnared.  There is nothing Mouchette can do.

Louisa the barmaid serves Arsene the poacher.  She serves Mathieu the gamekeeper.  Each man orders a drink from her.  Each man has a crush on her.  (Strangely, this story line with Louisa has little to do with the rest of the film and will simply disappear.  Why is it in here?  Because it was in the novel?  Bresson seems to fumble with it.)

Mouchette's father and brother arrive at the bar with bootleg liquor.  The police stop and look.  The men cover the liquor with a blanket.  The police do not seem to care.  The police move on.

One day Mouchette gets lost in the woods in a rainstorm.  She stumbles upon Arsene the poacher.  She sees Mathieu the gamekeeper confront him.  She witnesses their fight.  Arsene sees her.  Takes her to his hovel.  Tells her a story to tell.  Asks for her alibi.  He takes her to a closed bar.  He takes her.

It is all downhill from here.