One of the most controversial films ever made, starring one of the kings of his craft, Marlon Brando,
Last Tango in Paris recently took me further into my journey with French filmmaking (I'm a newbie.)
I'd heard of the film before, and vaguely remembered that it was infamous and once had an X rating. Some further research led me to learn that
1. It was banned in certain parts of the world for 30+ years
2. It changed public perception of its cast forever
3. It was considered pornographic at the time
I wasn't sure what to expect upon turning it on. I know, now days later, that I cannot stop mentally going back to that sparse apartment and those graying Parisian streets every few minutes. From an artistic perspective, it gets high marks from me. From the opening scene, with the wide angles of Brando in his brown overcoat stumbling like a zombie behind ingenue Maria Schneider, dressed like she just stepped from the pages of 2009 Modcloth.
Her top hat with flowers, minidress, and leather butterscotched boots are appealing and serve more of a purpose than simply clothing the (often nude) Schneider in her opening scene. They provide information about what her character, Joanne, represents. The hat? Whimsy and willingness to take one step over the line, calling it rebellion, when its really called being twenty. The mini? Sex. Youth. Nubility. The boots? In the immortal words of Nancy Sinatra "Made for walking...all over you." She's heading somewhere with elan, yet practicality (they aren't heels, after all. She can run fast and up stairs in them with great ease.)
The two meet. They barely exchange words, and definitely not names or personal information, before he hoists her against a wall and they knock boots (literally.) As the days go by, we see their respective lives away from the bare apartment they tryst in juxtaposed with their intense, erotic-yet-disturbing-yet-fascinating interactions.
I suppose today, almost forty years later, one could still view
Tango without getting all the nuance director Bernardo Bertolucci intended. There's an experimentation his actors allowed him that I've rarely seen elsewhere (Kubrick comes to mind.) Paul, whose loose, erratic behavior holds a power over Jeanne for 3/4 of the film. Then the tables turn. This is more than a Lolita situation, and more than an obsession or a role-play thing.
Paul is American in his interactions with Jeanne--something he couldn't be with his parents (if you believe the story about his childhood he tells Jeanne) or his recently deceased spouse. Jeanne's anonymity, and his, and their age differences allow him to fulfill a need to be some preconceived notion of masculine, macho-Americano--a trait he doesn't come by naturally and doesn't need to keep at after a few days.
Jeanne is twenty and headed for her first marriage. She spends much of the movie referencing her childhood, including trips to her mother's house and experiences in the rooms and gardens she pounced and daydreamed through. She allows everything Paul commands to happen. She doesn't fight. Even in the most infamous and disturbing scene, she cries but she does not protest. In the end, we see her power and her ultimate decision. She isn't helpless, she's saying goodbye to youth through her relationship with Paul.
If you haven't seen this film, I recommend it for a thousand different reasons. Interestingly enough, the one that brought me to it, its infamy, is the last thing I would think of now.
