(Max Ophüls, France 1950, 91 min., 35mm nitrate)
Print source: La Cinémathèque française, Paris, France
“From my first film, the [‘talking’] side did not interest me at all! I was only concerned with the image,” Max Ophüls recalled. “The camera, this new means of expression that I had at my disposal for the first time, irresistibly diverted me from speech, almost like a young mistress diverts a married man from his wife. A mistress whom I loved madly.”
Nothing illustrates this better than La Ronde. One can forget about the dialogue and entrust oneself to the camera, as it follows a desperate streetwalker up the stairs; attaches itself to a happy dancing couple, then peeps through bushes to spy on a more secretive one; watches a celebrated and narcissistic poet through the eyes of a naïve, lowly girl (lowly in a most literal sense, as demonstrated by angle shots); writhes in lust and anxiety with a shy young man in the presence of a flirty chambermaid; or, in a succession of perfectly symmetrical shots, keeps respectful distance from a married couple in their separate beds, who may no longer be in love but have developed a tender respect for each other.
What’s more, the camera and the lighting equipment make an appearance every now and then, and the Master of Ceremonies, who operates the carousel of love, is equipped with a clapboard and a pair of scissors, always ready to cut a particularly risqué shot. He is a Film Director and God at the same time. And since, unlike many great filmmakers, Ophüls had no demiurgic pretensions, he is not comparing a film director to God: he is rather diminishing God to merely a film director.
Arthur Schnitzler’s play Reigen caused a scandal in turn-of-the-century Vienna. In a series of ten encounters (“The Whore and the Soldier,” “The Soldier and the Chambermaid,” “The Chambermaid and the Young Man,” and so forth, until we return to the Whore), it demonstrated that sexual promiscuity reduces human relations to physical pleasure. Ophüls deprived the play of its cynicism. In the film, each rendezvous contains a spout of true love that is not destined to rise. If not for the Master of Ceremonies’ irony and occasional reminders that this is just a film, La Ronde would have been one of the most desperate works of cinema.
This print was compiled from at least two original positives. Shrinkage is moderate at 0.95%, however it required substantial repair work. One can appreciate the dark tones of the original, rarely reflected in later copies.
– Peter Bagrov