There are some films you just need to see if you are to call yourself a cinephile. Films like Citizen Kane. Seven Samurai. The 400 Blows. Movies so iconic that you almost feel guilty if you haven’t seen them. We all have our lists of must-sees, and for some time, near the top of mine has been Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad (L’année dernière à Marienbad). Mysterious and enigmatic, it is the poster child for the Snooty Art Film, a film that I suspect a lot of people talk about but few have actually seen. Right up my alley, it would seem.
So when Criterion came out with a beautiful new Blu-ray edition (it’s available in DVD too), I put it on the Netflix queue and let ‘er rip. It opens in a hotel, with a disembodied male voice, accompanying a gliding visual tour of an (apparently) empty grand hotel. But the voice, although it describes some of what we see, is not really narrating the tour . Instead, it is rambling, tonelessly and repetitively, about remembrances of a past visit, and as we come to realize, perhaps a past encounter.
The voice fades in and out of our hearing, as if we are not always within range, and over it all is portentous organ music, which — like the voice — stays with us throughout much of the film. We eventually discover that the voice belongs to X (Giorgio Albertazzi), and slowly, piecemeal, we are introduced to the other main characters: A (Delphine Seyrig) and M (Sacha Pitoëff) who is her husband, or lover, or something. Nobody in this film has a proper name, they’re just identified in the credits as X, M, and A. It’s that kind of film.
I must say that its reputation as an art-film avatar is well-deserved — it is nothing if not impenetrable and pretentious. The actors — both the principles and the secondary cast — do not so much act as pose. All are dressed in evening clothes, all immaculately groomed, as if a New Yorker photo-shoot had exploded all over the screen. It makes you wonder why we should care: they are so far removed from most folks’ everyday existence that they might as well have been aliens.
Perhaps that is the point: because we are not emotionally involved with the characters, we are free to drink in the breathtaking images. Marienbad is, on one level, an exercise in formalism — its images are precise and geometrically composed. Its black-and-white, Cinemascope photography rivals that of The 400 Blows, five years its senior. I’ve said it before, but there’s just something about B&W ‘Scope that looks inherently spectacular.
But Marienbad is more than pretty pictures and full-on affectation. It has a plot and everything. The only problem is, it happens in X’s head. He is convinced that A and he spent a hot interlude together in that hotel one year before. For her part, A claims that no such assignation took place, though at times she seems to come around. It is X’s further contention that she had agreed to run away with him, leaving her cold, hovering lover, if only they meet at the hotel exactly one year later.
We discover all this primarily through X’s rambling monologue, which allows us into X’s head, but- — significantly — not that of A. All we see is her reaction to his entreaties. To top it off, some of what we see is flashback, some occurs in the filmic present, and aome may not have occurred at all. In addition, certain scenes give the impression that something violent might have happened between them, perhaps a rape, or even a murder.
Is A a projection of X’s longing, a lingering memory that haunts the grand hotel? Or is there something more sinister at work, an attempted coercion of a vulnerable woman by an insistent predator? Marienbad doesn’t say: its past, present and might-have-beens are all jumbled together. It is impossible to say which are which.
Did I enjoy Last Year at Marienbad? Not precisely. Watching it is a chore on several levels: first, it’s hard to overlook the organ-driven pretension that pervades it; it’s been oft-lampooned since its release. Second, you spend the first half hour wondering who is who, then the last hour what the hell is going on. It is not passive entertainment by any measure; it takes concentration on the part of the viewer.
But perseverance pays off: in spite of its difficulties — or perhaps because of them. Last Year at Marienbad stays with you, like persistent memory, or a disjointed dream that remains in your consciousness whether you will it to or not. It is a big, beautiful, pretentious, glorious enigma of a film. Sit down with a glass of wine and take it all in. That’s what I did.
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Way back when I first began Netflix, this was one of the first movies I queued up precisely because of its reputation. You perfectly captured my response to it as well! I’m glad it’s been remastered as a Criterion disk; I recall the DVD I watched wasn’t nearly so pristine.
Rick – Nice post. I find that, more and more, I enjoy wrangling with difficult films (as this one seems to be). Even if I don’t end up loving them, I always come away having learned a little something that expands my appreciation of cinema as a whole.
As mentioned in a previous comment, I nodded off soon after the start of “Marienbad” when it was screened for my Into to Film course in college. I had the same reaction to both Fellini’s “Juliet of the Spirits” and Godard’s “Vivre Sa Vie.” I’m returning to all those films now or in the very near future (currently halfway through “Juliet” – the rest is waiting for me on the DVR.) “Marienbad” is not too far downt the Netflix queue – I’ll keep in mind your direction to “sit down with a glass of wine and take it all in” when I finally get to it.
Will, thanks. There are definitely movies you just have to see. Some, like Kurosawa’s or Hitchcock’s, are a lot of fun; others, though requiring lots of work, reward you for your hard work in the end.
After having followed your lead on Battle of Algiers and The Wages of Fear (currently in the queue), I’ll add this one to my to-see list as well, even if I’m not especially fond of snooty films.
Pat, warning: the problem with drinking a glass of wine while watching it is that it increases the tendency to doze off, which is ever-present with (a) difficult films and (b) the, ahem, aging that some of us are doing. YMMV, of course.
By the way, I ended up liking “Juliet,” but not loving it like some of the earlier Fellini’s which, as you know, are just about my favorite films. (I’d better stop, now, before I start fulminating about “Nine.”)
Daniel — I’m flattered. Check “Marienbad” out … what do you have to lose but a 94 minutes of your life? And then you can say, in conversation with your snooty cinephile pals “Oh, yes … Marienbad. I thought it was pretentious, but with a certain, undeniable jejune charm.” Or, you can avoid it and just lie. That works, too.
Well I’ve been doing the latter and surviving, but my lies will catch up with me one day. Famous last words…
Rick, I’m embarassed to tell you how long it took me to figure out what “YMMV” stood for. Evidence of my own aging process, perhaps?
Like an idiot I saw this one right of the starting gate of cinephilia around the time I was 14 or so. I was of course both absolutely clueless and judgmental of it. Haven’t seen it since and some thirty years later was thinking maybe it would be different with age. Then I read your review and damnedest of things, that’s how I felt then. Maybe this is a one-stop movie no matter how old you are when you see it.
Daniel … sometimes, though, they catch up to the guy who comes after you … look at the last change in Presidents, for example.
Pat — ROTFL. And you’re not getting older, just better.
Greg — You’re 44?
But about the one-stop movie idea, that’s not bad. But it also may be that I’m a late-blooming cinephile, myself, although I’ve always loved movies, It’s just in the last decade or so that I’ve started taking them seriously. So maybe if I had another decade of serious cinephilia under my belt, I’d find great gobs of significance, and it would all make perfect sense.
But I don’t think so … I think it’s just, as you say, one of those flicks. Nobody seems to know what the hell’s going on, even supposed experts and film scholars. They just sit back and admire it, and busy themselves trying to sort it all out.
You’re right, the rewards are there for those who soak in what the films have to offer. I avoided Eraserhead because I wasn’t willing to put in the work. Once I actually watched it, I realized that the work/rewards ratio was a lot different than I had assumed.
Works/rewards ratio is a good way to put it. And as I said over on your blog, I haven’t seen Eraserhead, and don’t particularly want to.
While it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be, I don’t think I’d recommend it. There are plenty of people to do that. I had to wait until I was in the perfect mood for Eraserhead, and after years and years, I eventually was.
Thanks again for commenting on my site.
Saw this on a restored 35mm scope print last year. Sure was pretty… The organ music reminds me of “carnival of souls” I kind of feel the same as you though..
Scott, you’re welcome, I’m glad I got over to your blog again, I’ll be over more often. I enjoyed your piece on Eraserhead.
Joe, I was in Seattle last summer, and it was playing right after I had to leave, and I really wanted to see it on the big screen.
Rick! Where are you! I need you to see A SERIOUS MAN! Truly, I’m dying for your take on it.
Bill, I have been unplugged from film and blog-land for about two weeks. I will get back to it shortly, however. I’m cooking up an essay on “Wings of Desire.”
I haven’t seen “A Serious Man” because it hasn’t opened in town yet. I will report back when I have.