Cléo from 5 to 7 (Cléo de 5 à 7, 1962)
Agnès Varda
France
I'd heard so much about this film that I spent the $22 to buy what turned out to be one of the most overpriced DVDs ever. Don't get me wrong, Criterion did their job marvellously: the transfer is stunning, every frame seems perfectly exposed, there's great contrast and detail, with hardly any speckles to detract from the viewing experience. No, it's not the quality of the DVD that bothers me, it's the film itself.
"Cléo" is made by a woman, about a woman, and for women, there's no doubt about it. My girlfriend loved it and I bet women generally will be able to relate to Cléo's meaningless wandering much better than men (a cursory look at the IMDB breakdown of votes reveals that this is indeed the case). The problem is that the film purports to be a deep philosophical statement about a woman (Corinne Marchand), who spends two agonizing hours waiting for results of a medical test that would reveal whether she has cancer. The first weak link is right here --- she is sure she has it, even before seing the doctor, because she's been to a card reader, who all but told her she's dying. Ok, that sort of thing is repugnant to the rational animal, but apparently not to women.
I swallow hard and try to believe the heroine. Let's assume she is convinced that she has cancer. Then why, the hell, is she WAITING to see the results? This wait is now irrelevant. Or maybe she still HOPES that she does not have cancer? Then, the entire story is melodramatic in the extreme. Ok, ok, let's say she thinks she has cancer. What does she do next? NOTHING.
First, and for the most part of the film, Cléo is concerned that cancer would destroy her physical beauty. Wait a second, I thought she was a SINGER, not a supermodel. Looks, although not irrelevant (cf. Britney "Talentless" Spears), are surely not completely defining for singers (but they seem to be for women). Otherwise, we would not have stars like Janis Joplin. Anyway, Cléo is a spoiled brat, who doubts even her own abilities (the scene with her composers). She can't confide, for whatever reason, in her lover (her maid, like us, does not believe her worries). In what is supposed to be a defining moment of defiance, Cléo tempts fate by putting on a new hat on Tuesday and boldly goes where every Parisian goes every day: out.
She sort of goes around, sits in a cafe, where she tries to get the patrons to listen to one of her songs but naturally everybody ignores the music (it's a cafe, for Pete's sake, not a concert hall). She gets depressed, sees a guy eating live frogs (a very uplifting experience), and sees another one piercing his bicep (inspirational). She then goes to see a friend of hers, who poses as a nude model for talentless sculptors (but wears no underwear; hey!) and the two of them go to see a short movie.
This is the only worthwhile scene in the entire movie. The comic short is about a guy who dons black sunglasses and sees his girlfriend fall down, die, and get carried away in a hearse. The guy then removes the glasses and sees the entire scene differently: the girl falls but does not die, the hearse is really an ambulance. End of story. This should have clued Cléo to her own problems, but no, nothing of the sort happens. The short was an apt statement of the simple fact that Cléo's "problems" are real only to the extent that she chooses to be pessimistic about them.
The end is even more ignominious. Cléo meets with a soldier on leave, who charms her with his uncharacteristic "understanding" of the female predicament. He accompanies her to the hospital, where she learns that her illness is treatable and not life-threatening at all. Presumably, however, she is now a changed person with a new look on life.
The problem is: what new outlook? Is she no longer a spoiled brat? Hard to believe. Will she draw the right conclusion (don't get depressed before the facts are in) from the episode? Hard to believe. She seems to end up with the soldier. Why, the hell, should she do that? Why not go back to her own life and work at changing the attitudes of her lover, colleagues, and maid? The movie seems to advocate escapism, but is that the point of existential realization? The film, thus, sucks big time. Although it's nicely filmed, it is boring and slow, despite a laughable effort at verite. It's not believable... unless you are a woman, that is.
If you want to see something profound along these lines, rent Kurosawa's IKIRU, an infinitely superior piece of cinema, both as execution and content.
March 20, 2001. BLS