Olivia (1951).

Review #1990: Olivia (1951).

Cast: 

Edwige Feuillère (Mlle. Julie), Simone Simon (Mlle. Cara), Marie-Claire Olivia (Olivia Dealey), Yvonne de Bray (Victoire), Suzanne Dehelly (Mlle. Dubois), Marina de Berg (Mimi), Lesly Meynard (Frau Riesener), and Danièle Delorme (Une ancienne élève) Directed by Jacqueline Audry (#1650 - Gigi (1949))

Review: 

Once again with Audry, we have the telling of a passionate yearning of a young girl, this time wrapped in tragedy. Admittedly, this is the kind of material I should have seen coming from her, because she liked to specialize in trying to make her mark in the confines of sophisticated melodramas that liked to see literary adaptations. But Olivia is an interesting work to find. The movie is adapted from the novel of the same name that had been written by Dorothy Bussy. Bussy wrote the short novel based on her experiences as a student at Les Ruches, a girls boarding school in Fontainebleau, France that was founded by Marie Souvestre (her most famous student was Eleanor Roosevelt), although the manuscript was kept from publication for many years due to a discouraging response she got from a close friend. At any rate, it was published in 1949 (originally written in French but later translated to English). The screenplay was done by Pierre Laroche, who wrote for a number of his wife's films, while Colette Audry was credited with an adaptation credit. It was not the first publication that dealt with teenage interest with teachers, far from it: Claudine at School was written with debatably autobiographical elements by Colette in 1900, and I'm sure one doesn't need too many reminders of Mädchen in Uniform (1931). The film was known in America as "The Pit of Loneliness"; a re-mastering of the film was done in 2019, complete with a re-release that thankfully can be seen in the way intended (certain trimming was done in censorship back then).

As you might expect, the film grips at one's attention at what is implied rather than actual events, one with a watchful eye in its camera angles more than anything. In a place filled with only women and girls, factions rise up among the devoted. Most of all, it is the story of someone trying to figure out exactly what one's love is when it relates to another woman. At 95 minutes, a movie with plenty of subtext to go around will work for those who accept what the film wants to show in its ambiguities (as opposed to simply calling a more subdued Madchen in Uniform). The film even opens with a quote from "Olivia" that says love has been the key matter of her life forever along with a wish for the Gods to have not let her profane such a memory. This self-realization is one we can all share because we all have had that moment of having a great memory in love that we wish to have never turn into nothingness in affections. Feuillère and Simon are the two distinct forces that hold a certain kind of spell over these people, and one of them spends most of their time writhing in bed. Feuillere essentially dominates the landscape when it comes to definable qualities of the film, one who towers in charisma that you can easily spot as important when trying to decipher the film in the things that are left unsaid. Marie-Claire Olivia is best known for this film because of how she only made a handful of appearances to go with her changing her name before release to have a last name of "Olivia". Her whirlwind of impulses and foibles work more or less to where you anticipate, which means a decent performance in enthusiasm and tension. The camera sweeps over the proceedings with worthy curiosity, one that suits the staging drama set out by Audry without becoming a maudlin mess. As a 19th century tale of awakenings and frustrations, it makes for a decent idea to spend one's time in the pit of yearning.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Outrage. Also...

Gigi (1949).

Review #1650: Gigi.

Cast: 

Yvonne de Bray (Mamita), Gaby Morlay (Tante Alicia), Jean Tissier (Honoré), Franck Villard (Gaston), Danièle Delorme (Gilberte 'Gigi'), Paul Demange (Emmanuel), Madeleine Rousset (Liane d'Exelmans), and Pierre Juvenet (Monsieur Lachaille) Directed by Jacqueline Audry.

Review: 

Jacqueline Audry honed success in a field and time that was nearly too narrow for it to happen the way it did. Born in France in 1908, Audry honed her interest in filmmaking over a childhood of extensive education through script supervisor before moving on to work work as an assistant director for a variety of directors in a time that ranged from G. W. Pabst to Max Ophüls; this came out of the fact that there were bare opportunities for female directors in the country when it was occupied by Germany in World War II. Audry would make her first own film with a short feature in 1943. Her first feature film would come after the end of the war with Les Malheurs de Sophie (1946), but it now is considered lost. In any case, Audry would persist in directing sixteen films through a career of two decades up to Bitter Fruit (1967, done ten years before her death), often collaborating with her novelist sister Colette Audry on her films. Gigi was Audry's second directorial effort, and the first of three of Colette adaptations. Audry was the first successful French female director to come out of World War II, although her works were not received universally at the time (the French New Wave did not favor her traditional methods to go along with taking novels to make for films); Olivia (1951) is generally her most-known feature, while others are likely in need of restoration (for example, one can check out Gigi on the Internet if they look hard enough for it, although the subtitles are in white). 

You might say this is a victim of remakes. As folks might already know, Gigi is adapted from the 1944 novella of the same name by actress-turned novelist Colette, and she modeled the title character off a socialite named Yola Letellier (the wife of Henri Letellier, who published Le Journal) that Colette had observed two decades prior (the Letelliers would stay married until the husband's death in 1960, although Yola would be a mistress during and after the marriage). It may have been the first adaptation of the novella, but there is no doubt that the musical remake (released nine years later) has overshadowed it in terms of discussion. It's interesting to think about that, since that film (which unlike this one had a cast mostly comprised of French actors) was a lavish affair in terms of being a musical with a wonderful look and fairly effective songs (at least from someone who has a middling patience with folks breaking out into song) in a nearly two-hour affair that nevertheless took liberties with the novella. With this feature, it runs at 82 minutes, and it perhaps seems fitting that one way to check out the feature is find it packed together with the remake on the DVD of the latter as an extra. Of course, we are also talking about different moral tones within the films - a grandparent overseeing a mistress-in-training instead became a grandparent wanting to see her just marry a rich man. In any case, the film is a reflection of its director that results in a quiet but dutiful little romance/comedy. Somehow, it seemed to linger in its pacing more so than the other film despite its clear run-time differences, although at least one doesn't lose sight of the country and some of the period sights. It makes its story of a growing woman weaving through the expectations set upon her of the time work out with careful timing and a few chuckles beneath the surface in the inevitable story of love triumphing over all. Delorme had her most famous role with this film in a sea of sixty appearances in film (including two other star roles in Colette adaptations, each directed by Audry), and she does fairly well for herself here, carefully charmed in reason for what is needed in the sticking points of a growing youth. The duo of de Bray and Morlay make their doting contributions to prim-and-proper standards that make for a few useful glances.  Alas, I wish I remembered the rest of the cast as well. Somehow, Tissler seems confined to the background in terms of slyness, whereas Villard proves just okay in his mild enthusiasm for what society has to offer a man of privilege - namely a stiff expression. I care about what happens in the film, but that aura of inevitability is a mild sensation rather than biting or on the sweet side as with the future adaptation (for better or worse). It isn't so much that the next adaptation was both refreshing and sanitized, it just so happens that the film is okay. It is a decent, stiff, and serviceable effort that will prove fine for those who desire perspectives yearning to not be lost to time.

Next Time: Never fear forgetting about Ida Lupino with her debut into directing with a personal effort in more ways than one with Never Fear (1949).

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.