The Bridesmaid May 11, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , trackback
Claude Chabrol’s The Bridesmaid
Based on a novel by British writer Ruth Rendell (whose book A Judgment in Stone was turned into La Cérémonie), Chabrol’s film is a thriller much more concerned with atmosphere and uneasiness than the things that go bump in the night. The thriller or suspense genre might be my favorite kind of film, but too often these types of movies are terrible, manipulative trash. At best, they’re usually formulaic and, at worst, they’re almost unwatchable. Cursed by the hovering spectre of Hitchcock, most elite directors don’t even try to make films within the thriller/suspense parameters. Sixteen years after its release, Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs remains perhaps the only completely successful example of the genre in the past two decades of English language attempts. Though the thrills are much more subtle in The Bridesmaid than many of the psychosexual entries in recent years, its impact is more significant than the stale cliches usually forced upon us.
The film’s title is almost unfortunate because the titular character doesn’t appear onscreen until nearly half an hour has passed. This early portion sets up the main character, Philippe (Benoît Magimel, from The Piano Teacher), and his family dynamic living with two younger sisters and their mother (Aurore Clément). The oldest sister is set to marry and the younger one has entered a phase of teenage rebellion. Meanwhile, the mother is dating an older man and Philippe is skeptical and protective of her. In fact, there are hints that he’s possibly a little too attached to his mother. It’s clear that he disagrees with his mother’s decision to give away a garden sculpture, named Flora, to this new suitor. The man had apparently told Philippe’s mother that the female face resembled her, though he carelessly leaves it at his old house when he moves (without telling her). Philippe discovers the abandoned bust and takes it home, concealing it in a closet in his bedroom.
Soon afterwards, Philippe spots an attractive bridesmaid (played by Laura Smet) at his sister’s wedding. It’s the groom’s cousin Senta, whom Philippe had previously been warned about as an eccentric whose given name was Stephanie. Passion and loneliness ignite into a male fantasy when Senta, soaking wet from a rainstorm, knocks on Philippe’s door after the wedding and aggressively pursues the man she’d just seen for the first time. Like other too good to be true sexual cautionary tales we’ve seen in movies, the film quickly lets us know Senta has some quirks, not the least of which are her ways of determining true love. The film spirals in and out of predictability with Senta, nicely tying up loose ends from the very beginning, and still manages to end with both question marks and exclamation points.
That ending, as well as Philippe’s slide to meet Senta past the halfway point of her dementia, must be handled ever so delicately to retain the audience’s confidence and believability. By establishing Philippe as a likeable and ordinary main character, the film smartly plays on the viewer’s normal attempt to relate to a film’s protagonist before stretching the boundaries of what we’re prepared to go along with or accept from Philippe. To get away with such leaps of logic, the casting should be effectively brilliant, as it is here. Having the agreeable Magimel play the lead smartly allows the actor to use his natural charm and the enchanting Laura Smet is a perfect choice to make us believe someone like Philippe would act as he does throughout the film. It’s essential that Magimel make us identify with Philippe and eagerly be on his side, just as Senta must come across as a mysterious, complicated young woman worthy of Philippe’s sacrifices and desires. Anything less, or in the hands of the wrong actors, and the movie is easily ruined.
It’s a testament, then, to Chabrol’s film that nothing ever feels distractingly off about the whole thing. The director mentions in a text interview included on the DVD that he is more concerned with the characters than the requisite murder and plot. This may seem antithetical to a murder mystery, but it’s also probably the reason The Bridesmaid succeeds both within and outside its genre. The young female victim whose plight is revealed on a newscast at the film’s beginning is hardly even a secondary character so there’s no particular sympathetic feelings an audience has for her. Her fate is essentially meaningless, and we instead turn our attention to Philippe and Senta, not knowing what roles they may play in the girl’s disappearance. Otherwise, there’s little mystery involved and the film becomes a character study delving into the consequences of obsession.
The obsession Senta strangely has with Philippe directly leads to his obsession with her. Coming out of a failed relationship, Philippe understandably enjoys the attention of the highly sexual Senta. Her seemingly exaggerated stories appear to be innocent fibs, easy enough to tolerate from someone who’s fawning over him. When she suggests less healthy escalations in the affair to prove their love, Philippe tries to break free of Senta. After only a short time apart, he realizes the obsession has become mutual and that he must have her back. The bust of Flora, transformed from his mother into Senta, becomes an inadequate substitute. He now needs her as much as she needs him and will do whatever it takes, even if it’s appeasing her perverse need of proof, to be with her.
It’s certainly a thin line Chabrol walks between keeping the audience from being disgusted with the characters and empathizing with Philippe. Viewers who can’t cross over, even briefly, with the protagonist’s choices may be left disappointed or unfulfilled. I don’t think the film requires its audience to agree with everything that takes place, but it is necessary to understand why Philippe acts as he does. As the film progresses, we pick up bits and pieces about his character and his actions ultimately remain consistent with what we learn. It’s a fascinating and engrossing dive into the nature of compulsion, vulnerability and sexual attraction told by a master filmmaker confident in his abilities to stir an audience without cheap stunts.
I wish that First Run Features, the company responsible for the R1 DVD, had the same abilities in presenting their release of The Bridesmaid. It’s obviously nice to have the film on DVD regardless of presentation, but First Run really should have done a more thorough job here. They’ve committed the egregious error of improper PAL to NTSC conversion, leaving behind significant combing and digital artifacts. Much of the film is incredibly dark, seemingly more so than intended. The R2 CineFile UK release apparently shares the darkness factor (reviewed by DVD Beaver here), but I’d be curious as to whether it’s as extremely dark as the R1. There’s also a French two-disc release that one would think might be the best of the lot. Additionally, the First Run has burned-in subtitles that are not removable and which seem rather large. Extra features are highlighted by a 12-minute making-of featurette and the aforementioned text interview with Chabrol. The lackluster effort from First Run, especially retailing for $30, is a disappointment. It’s a very good film that would have been better served by an improved release.
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