(WARNING: This review may contain spoilers)
This is the film that will make Robert Bresson's name echo. 'Masterpiece' is a curse-word in film circles these days, as most 'scholars' occupy their time discussing politics of representation, ideology and the 'danger' of the image, yet it certainly applies to this film. A film like `Un condamne a mort' mocks the point where the study of film meets cultural studies, underscoring the simple fact that there are works that are simply worth worshipping on their own, as magnificent singularities created by a gifted individual who is more than a mere representative of this or that political end. This film is just a great work by a great man-sue me for my simplistic, wide-eyed employment of superlatives-and one that I highly recommend solely for the experience.
The film is delicate, yet intense; the stark forwardness of the narrative and its strict economy (I cannot think of one scene, of one shot, of one motion or sound that could be added or taken away without diminishment) of this careful composition bears like no other film Bresson made, like no other film by any other director, for that matter, the shaved edges of a committed carpenter. At his best, Bresson avoids the pretense and self-mockery of 'art cinema' and shines through as a prudent yet confident craftsman, an ardent 'débrouillard,' carving, sanding, and polishing his work to perfection. I have always held onto a particularly romantic (and utterly fabricated) image of him, of Bresson working quietly in his 'workshop,' using old tools, isolated, learning and honing his craft. Of course, I don't want to paint a picture that is totally false-Bresson often came to the defense of cinema (or 'cinematographie') as an art form of its own, apart from 'filmed theatre.' In a word, he was very conscious of film as art, and viewed himself primarily as an artist (not a craftsman).
The point I want to make, though, is that `Un condamne a mort' is a film that is so simple that one can see the 'brushstrokes,' as it were, the mark of the presence of the man who made it and even how he did so. Nothing is hidden by the way the film is mounted-there is nothing to suspect (most big-budget films tend to make one suspicious of how the film was made, of how it was tinkered with after the main footage was filmed to cover up 'flaws'). Bresson lays his techniques out for all to see and makes continual use of them, not shying away from repetition. He seeks not to 'wow' you with a 'great shot,' or to comfort with the familiar; he eschews conventions of suspense-building and constructs his scenes in a manner that has no use for dramatic epiphanies. In short, Bresson seeks not reaction but interaction with the viewer. I think that it is safe to say that he wants us to concentrate on what his characters are actually doing, in the 'now,' on their object of toil, rather than seek to 'identify' or 'sympathize' with what we see, or speculate for that matter on 'where this will go.' The film's title, after all, tells us what will happen-Fontaine will escape. Aware of the inevitable, the viewer is freed to experience the 'presentness' of each new image and scene, spared of the hassle of having to search for an aspect of the story to hold onto.
The most amazing aspect of this film is how Bresson is able to take material that is fundamentally political and de-politicize it by drawing our attention to the efforts, intelligent and persistent, of one individual. Fontaine, in the hands of another, would have been made to represent 'freedom' or 'liberty' or some other aspect that is usually meant (and fails) to give a film scope or grandeur or meaning or relevance. The easiest and most frequently employed way to build a character is to 'bounce' him off of other secondary characters, so that the audience can respond to the manner in which he reacts to other persons, issues or events, and so that the audience can construct an opinion of him and of what he 'signifies.' By allowing the Fontaine character to build on its own (all we see and hear, for the most part, are his plans for escape and how he executes them), Bresson does not make Fontaine represent anything except a military officer escaping from a prison. Fontaine's actions are not mythologized, and yet, they are depicted in such a (dare I say) realistic manner, that they do gain significance beyond the mere facts. This 'greater significance' is perhaps the ultimate Bresson paradox, but it is also a tribute to his unique skill.
This is the film that will make Robert Bresson's name echo. 'Masterpiece' is a curse-word in film circles these days, as most 'scholars' occupy their time discussing politics of representation, ideology and the 'danger' of the image, yet it certainly applies to this film. A film like `Un condamne a mort' mocks the point where the study of film meets cultural studies, underscoring the simple fact that there are works that are simply worth worshipping on their own, as magnificent singularities created by a gifted individual who is more than a mere representative of this or that political end. This film is just a great work by a great man-sue me for my simplistic, wide-eyed employment of superlatives-and one that I highly recommend solely for the experience.
The film is delicate, yet intense; the stark forwardness of the narrative and its strict economy (I cannot think of one scene, of one shot, of one motion or sound that could be added or taken away without diminishment) of this careful composition bears like no other film Bresson made, like no other film by any other director, for that matter, the shaved edges of a committed carpenter. At his best, Bresson avoids the pretense and self-mockery of 'art cinema' and shines through as a prudent yet confident craftsman, an ardent 'débrouillard,' carving, sanding, and polishing his work to perfection. I have always held onto a particularly romantic (and utterly fabricated) image of him, of Bresson working quietly in his 'workshop,' using old tools, isolated, learning and honing his craft. Of course, I don't want to paint a picture that is totally false-Bresson often came to the defense of cinema (or 'cinematographie') as an art form of its own, apart from 'filmed theatre.' In a word, he was very conscious of film as art, and viewed himself primarily as an artist (not a craftsman).
The point I want to make, though, is that `Un condamne a mort' is a film that is so simple that one can see the 'brushstrokes,' as it were, the mark of the presence of the man who made it and even how he did so. Nothing is hidden by the way the film is mounted-there is nothing to suspect (most big-budget films tend to make one suspicious of how the film was made, of how it was tinkered with after the main footage was filmed to cover up 'flaws'). Bresson lays his techniques out for all to see and makes continual use of them, not shying away from repetition. He seeks not to 'wow' you with a 'great shot,' or to comfort with the familiar; he eschews conventions of suspense-building and constructs his scenes in a manner that has no use for dramatic epiphanies. In short, Bresson seeks not reaction but interaction with the viewer. I think that it is safe to say that he wants us to concentrate on what his characters are actually doing, in the 'now,' on their object of toil, rather than seek to 'identify' or 'sympathize' with what we see, or speculate for that matter on 'where this will go.' The film's title, after all, tells us what will happen-Fontaine will escape. Aware of the inevitable, the viewer is freed to experience the 'presentness' of each new image and scene, spared of the hassle of having to search for an aspect of the story to hold onto.
The most amazing aspect of this film is how Bresson is able to take material that is fundamentally political and de-politicize it by drawing our attention to the efforts, intelligent and persistent, of one individual. Fontaine, in the hands of another, would have been made to represent 'freedom' or 'liberty' or some other aspect that is usually meant (and fails) to give a film scope or grandeur or meaning or relevance. The easiest and most frequently employed way to build a character is to 'bounce' him off of other secondary characters, so that the audience can respond to the manner in which he reacts to other persons, issues or events, and so that the audience can construct an opinion of him and of what he 'signifies.' By allowing the Fontaine character to build on its own (all we see and hear, for the most part, are his plans for escape and how he executes them), Bresson does not make Fontaine represent anything except a military officer escaping from a prison. Fontaine's actions are not mythologized, and yet, they are depicted in such a (dare I say) realistic manner, that they do gain significance beyond the mere facts. This 'greater significance' is perhaps the ultimate Bresson paradox, but it is also a tribute to his unique skill.