I’m one of those people Netflix must love.
I have the cheapest type of account, it’s true, so they don’t get too much money from me per month. But they often get it for doing relatively little or nothing at all. Although I periodically watch movies and return them fairly quickly, I also go through long arid stretches when I can’t seem to find the time or the inclination to watch a thing, and that DVD they’ve sent me (I still use that system because my TV is too old for streaming) just sits on counter or desk silently reproaching me with my shameful waste of $7.99 a month.
I have odd taste in movies. I tend to gravitate towards obscure and/or foreign ones, mostly old. This time I had gotten the French 1950 movie “La Ronde” last summer and I only got around to watching it two nights ago, which is some some sort of record even for me. It had been so long since I put the movie in my queue (love that British word!) that by the time I saw it I could no longer remember where I’d heard of it or why I’d found whatever was said about it to be compelling enough to order it.
It’s an odd, odd flick. Did I like it? Not exactly, but sort of. It was—one of my favorite words—interesting. Although it was made in France in 1950 and based on an Austrian play from 1900, it’s still a bit shocking in its cynical treatment of human sexual interactions.
And that’s pretty much all the movie is about—human sexual interactions, albeit portrayed in a stylized manner (no nudity whatsoever, for example). Each sexual encounter is represented by a fade-to-black and some characteristic waltz music, and sometimes there are clever cinematic devices such as when a carousel breaks down to show a gentleman having a bit of trouble with his own—er—apparatus, or a narrator character taking a strip of movie film and cutting it up to censor the sex scene that has just been implied previously.
The movie features all sorts of innovative camera shots and angles, I’m told, but that’s not the sort of thing I ever notice or appreciate. I’m there for the story and the acting, and any film technique is secondary or tertiary or not even on my radar screen. In “La Ronde,” for example, I was floored by the stunning youth and beauty of Simone Signoret, who was in her late 20s at the time but looked even younger, but whom I had only known from 1965’s “Ship of Fools” where, although only in her mid-40s, she had played a burnt-out case opposite Oskar Werner (the movie was pretty bad, but I remember Signoret and Werner as touching, delicate, and fascinating, and I immediately fell in love with Werner).
Max Ophuls, director of “La Ronde,” was one of many Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany who enriched the cinema. The movie was based on the work of the Viennese (and also Jewish) Arthur Schnitzler*, and had been written only for his friends and considered way too scandalous to produce at the time (1900). Later it was given a performance that caused a huge outcry:
Schnitzler’s play was not publicly performed until 1920, on 23 December 1920 in Berlin and 1 February 1921 in Vienna. The play elicited violent critical and popular reactions. Schnitzler suffered moralistic and personal attacks that became virulently anti-Semitic. Schnitzler was attacked as a Jewish pornographer and the outcry came to be known as the “Reigen scandal.” Despite a 1921 Berlin court verdict that dismissed charges of immorality against the play, Schnitzler withdrew La Ronde himself from public production in German-speaking countries.
The play remained popular in Russia, Czechoslovakia, and especially in France, where it was adapted for the cinema twice, in 1950 and again in 1964. In 1982, forty years after Arthur Schnitzler’s death, his son Heinrich Schnitzler released the play for German-language performances.
Not till 1982!
As I said, by modern standards the sex in the film is non-existent, merely implied. But sex is the basic theme, and the people in it are portrayed as highly cynical about their “love” lives. If one person is in love the other isn’t. If both are in love it is rare and doesn’t last long. Often there is an exploiter and an exploited, or even two exploiters. Not exactly my cup of tea, but as I said—interesting. And compared to today’s films, really quite refined.
Next on my Netflix list: “Boyhood.” I think I’ll try to take less than six months to get around to watching it.
[*NOTE: I had never heard of Schnitzler before the other evening when I watched the film. Nevertheless, in one of those odd coincidences that life seems loaded with, after seeing the film I settled in to read some more of Victor Klemperer’s Nazi-era diaries, and promptly encountered a passage in which Klemperer related a humorous anecdote he’d heard about—Arthur Schnitzler!]