Film Review
When it was first published in 1922, Victor Margueritte's novel
La Garçonne
(a.k.a.
The Tomboy) met with almost universal condemnation in the
press for its lurid account of a young woman leading a thoroughly emancipated
life in the aftermath of the First World War. In some quarters, the
book was written off as sensation-seeking pornography, and even feminists
railed against it, fearing that it undermined their cause by portraying the
modern woman as a depraved creature living the most debauched of lifestyles.
The year after the film's publication, it was turned into a film by Armand
Du Plessy, but this fell foul of the censor and, branded highly immoral,
was hastily withdrawn from circulation. It was thirteen years before
another film producer was brave enough to adapt Margueritte's scabrous novel,
and it is curious that that producer should be Albert Dieudonné, whose
main claim to fame is playing the title role in Abel Gance's biographical
epic
Napoléon (1927).
Dieudonné not only produced the film he also scripted it, but whilst
he had already shown himself to be a capable film director, he handed over
the directing duties to Jean de Limur, who had previously worked as an assistant
to Charlie Chaplin on
A Woman
of Paris (1923) and G.W. Pabst on
Don Quichotte (1933).
Perhaps over-mindful of the notoriety of the original novel, Dieudonné
and Limur both draw a discrete veil over its more lubricious aspects, so
that what they end up delivering is a fairly tepid melodrama that is only
just redeemed by the quality of its performances and some occasional moments
of censor-baiting daring. An unlikely choice for the lead role is Marie
Bell, who, cast against type, proves to be surprisingly effective as a woman
railing against the hypocrisies and conventions of her bourgeois class.
Tame though it is by today's 'anything goes' standards, the more sordid aspects
of Margueritte's novel - Monique's lesbian love affairs and penchant for
drugs and orgies - are presented with a bravado that was pretty well unheard
of in cinema of this era. Needless to say,
La Garçonne
was a risqué film for its day, and the controversy it aroused inevitably
made it a commercial success. It's worth noting, en passant, that Jacqueline
Audry directed a further adaptation in 1957, one that manages to feel even
more strait-laced and cautious than Limur's, despite the relaxation in attitudes
towards free love that had come about in the intervening twenty years.
The 1936 film is notable as being the one in which the great chansonnier
Édith Piaf made her screen debut. Here, Piaf momentarily steals
the film with a musical number that expresses the illicit desires that the
screenwriter and director obviously couldn't bring themselves to graphically
present on screen. (An explicit love scene involving two women was
strictly taboo.) Attention grabbing though Piaf is, it is another screen
débutante, Arletty, who leaves the strongest impression, however.
Made up as a blonde music hall diva, the actress is at her most stunning
and brazenly sensual. For the record, this is not the only time Arletty
played an overtly lesbian character - she did so some years later in Jacqueline
Audry's
Huis clos (1954).
The sequence where Arletty casually seduces Bell, enticing her from one world
(that of dull bourgeois conformity) towards another (one of seemingly limitless
artistic and personal freedom) is a rare moment of honest daring in an otherwise
pretty forgettable film. It's a shame that, after a brief foray into
virgin territory (how many films of this era even
allude to the idea
of romantic love between women?), a lack of imagination and fear of a critical
backlash drive the narrative back onto a more conventional track for its
final act. You don't have to be a fully paid-up feminist to have your
stomach turned by the final scene, which glibly reminds us where a woman's
place is in civilised society.
© James Travers 2017
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Film Synopsis
In the early 1920s, Monique Lerbier is leading a contented life in the country
with her elderly aunt when her parents summon her to Paris on the pretext
of marrying her off. Monique does as is required of her, which is to
fall in love with and become engaged to the man that has been selected for
her, not knowing that the marriage has been arranged primarily to secure
a substantial investment in her father's business. On the eve of the
wedding, Monique discovers that her future husband had an affair with another
woman for three years and has fathered a child outside wedlock. Appalled,
she calls off the wedding at once and refuses to have anything more to do
with her parents. Determined to make her own way in life, Monique opens
a small shop where she sells furniture and objets d'art. One day, she
falls under the spell of an alluring music hall performer, Niquette, and
soon becomes her lover. Through Niquette's artistic contacts, Monique
begins to make a name for herself as a theatrical designer and acquires an
ever-expanding circle of amorous admirers. One of her lovers, Régis
Boisselot, becomes wildly possessive of Monique and cannot bear to share
her with anyone else. Monique's insistence that she belongs to no one
will ultimately drive Régis to the limit of sanity...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.