Cine: "A Man and A Woman" (and a Guilt Monster)

Un homme et une femme

It's been a few weeks since I've seen Claude Lelouch's film "A Man and A Woman" (France, 1966) and it hasn't left my head yet. One of the ways I judge a film is by how well it echoes afterwards. Somehow - in a film with people I have almost nothing in common with - something reached me and found a tender spot. I dreaded watching it - the feared "relationship film" - but I was stuck with it and gave it a go. It did help a little bit as it was described as tres cool on the cover. I'm a sucker for 1960's French cool.

The storyline didn't bode well: two widowers finding each other in their first relationship after their losses. I had seen Blue (of the famous Blue, White, Red trilogy) which was a really heavy (but great) film dealing with sudden loss and I didn't really want a repeat of that or even tinges of it. Luckily "A Man and A Woman", while certainly not a light film, did not probe the inner depths of grief but rather we watched the re-flowering of two individuals. It takes a high amount of skill to walk the line between schlock and sublimity but Lelouch was up to the task.

It's also madly atmospheric with every shot framed and lighted with loving care. It's a film you absorb as much as you watch. I also loved all the little moments of self-talk and hesitation - do I extend my hand out or not, what could he/she be thinking? Lelouch truly enjoys the poetry of the visual medium and the entire cadence of the film is that of small vignettes streaming together, carrying us along on the couple's journey of self-discovery.

Those who criticize the film do so for seeing it as having too much style. Our would-be lovers are too beautiful, their careers - he a race car driver, she a film script supervisor - are too elite, with lifestyles too far removed from the grubby masses. But if an auto mechanic can know a broken heart, so can a sleek race car driver. Despite this sort of reverse snobbery, the romance is true and simple but with all the complexities of opening one's self up anew. The ending was perfect: subtle and complete with the enticing hint of more steps yet to come.

For me, there's an other-worldly quality to the film, like I'm peeking into lives that I shouldn't be seeing. Or maybe I relate to this film so well because it's how my life should be had I found myself along the way. Enjoyment erodes with my guilt and angst, fretting over the sense of inadequacy. It's amazing how often the reality is we ask for our own demise in the effort to express ourselves truly. For though I dearly loved this film, Debby the Guilt Monster came kicking in my door:

What the fuck are YOU doing watching this?

Nothing. I, uh-

When was the last time YOU had a relationship?

I haven't exactly...

I've had relationships all my life. You know they are THE most important part of living. And what have YOU ever done?

Nothing, I know.

So what makes you think you're good enough to watch this, bitch?

I don't.

So what are you going to do about it?

Nothing I can do.

Do I need to remind you all the chances you blew, Mr. Smartest Man Alive? Do you know how many women hate and despise you right now?

I know.

I'm the only one that knows the whole truth about you. You know that, don't you?

Yes. I haven't dropped my guard since you left.

You're still just one big act, aren't you?

Pretty much.

Give me one good reason why I should forgive you.

I can't.

Well, you better find one before you die! You know that don't you?

Yes, I know...

But you're not going to do it, are you?

I don't see how I can.

God, you're pathetic! You should just off yourself and end the misery now. There's no point living without a relationship. *I* worked on that and you did not. Why should I do anything to help you?

I don't know. I can't see why either.

Have you been fooling people again? Making them feel sorry for you and shit like that?

I can't help it.

Jesus! What can anyone do with you!

I want you to be proud of me. I want to be someone you're not ashamed of. It kills me I'm not that person. Failing you is unbearable to me. Only you know my crimes and I'm completely dependent on you. I don't know what to do, Debby. You're the only person I can talk to but the only time you talk to me is when you're yelling at me.

Are you telling me you don't deserve it?

No. I know what I did. It's unforgivable even if I live a thousand lifetimes.

Damn right it is!

Everyone thinks you're being unfairly angry with me.

And do you think that?

No, it's more than fair you speak to me at all.

And your lying, chickenshit ass better not forget that!

I'm sorry I tried to watch this film like I'm somebody normal. I know it's a dream I forsook.

You're going to die a 12-year-old, aren't you?

Looks that way.

Watching others live, poaching feelings vicariously through their lives, wishing from afar you were one of them. I can't condone that. You can't expect me to. There's no hope living with someone like that.

I know. But I can't resist you. You know what The Dream is. That can't be replaced.

I don't know what to say to you. I can't stop my disgust. The more I hope for you the more you hurt me. That's what addicts do. Where does it end?

It ends when I have a home. I can't forgive me either. I know I burned it down and it can never be the same again.

Fine. I'll be waiting until the next time you call out for me - and you always do. And if you haven't changed by then, well...you know what's going to happen.
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