The Evil that Lurks in Bresson’s Films

Is sin relative?

I've always been bothered by Bresson's films ever since I watched a whole retrospective of them at the Cinematheque Ontario a few years back.

Well, thanks to TFO (la télévision éducative et culturelle de l'Ontario français - as their website describes it), there have been a few Bresson films to watch recently.

Two that I taped, and watched at least twice – more if I include the repeat shows later during the week - are "Au Hazard Balthazar" and "Mouchette".

I've even consulted a couple of books from the library[1,2] to elucidate to me the greatness of these films.

Needless to say, it is very difficult to find any negative criticism of Bresson's films. This is hardly surprising, since most of his critics are the type that would never watch a "Hollywood movie", let alone a film as romantically glossy as "Black Beauty".

My only conclusion is that Bresson believes in degrees of sin. He starts from the truly wilful sinners and goes on to those that seem to sin as though some automatic hand were guiding them to expose their weakness.

He seems to say that the hard and deprived life Mouchette leads might be the reason for her weakness. The evil around her (her alcoholic father, Arsène who rapes here) act as an explanation for her "unwilled" sins and her final act of suicide.

With "Au Hazard Balthazar", he sets the backdrop of a donkey as a saint (what do animals know of sin, anyway?) and contrasts it with truly unsavoury characters who then appear to downplay the waywardness of those who once again seem to act on unconscious automation. Thus, Balthazahr is the saint, Marie performs sin as a reaction to her environment, and Gérard is the true evil.

Bresson excuses this secondary category, those with unwilled waywardness. They’re close to being good, he says, so their breech from righteousness is not their fault.

I think this is the mindset of someone who tries to defy God, who tries to rewrite God’s word, and who is so self-centered or arrogant to consider his "petits péchés" worthy of correction, or even expiation. These small deviations can add up to bigger ones, as we witness with Mouchette's demise.

Finally, if he believes in degrees of sin, where Marie, who succumbs to Gérard’s evil seductions is less sinful than Gérard (who beats the donkey and later Marie) because she "can’t help herself", then he has entered dangerous territory.

It is dangerous to relativise sin. To each his own, and to each his own exit, is the only mindset that works.

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1. The Films of Robert Bresson. Ed. Ian Cameron. Praeger Inc., NY, 1970


2. Robert Bresson : a spiritual style in film. Joseph Cunneen. Continuum , New York, 2003.

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A Tale of Two Movies

About animals

Anna Sewell’s novel Black Beauty has been made into several films. The one I watched was the 1994 version, in splendid color.

Robert Bresson’s tale of a donkey - Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) – comes in grim black and white.

I know there is a danger of over-romanticizing stories, but ultimately it is the writer who chooses the mood, message and content (and the ending) of the story.

Bresson gives us a cute, underdeveloped, mute donkey who really becomes the silent beast of burden. Bresson’s script revolves around a group of unsavoury, narcissistic characters. I don’t even know why he put in the donkey, other than perhaps to garner our sympathy towards him despite this acrid and bitter storyline.

Sewell’s story tells us of the redemptive powers of life, and of people. Animals suffer, but somehow, somewhere, a small miracle occurs when just the right master (despite the gruelling job) appears on the scene.

Like I said, romanticizing animal life can get a little tedious, but I would rather Sewell’s morality tale of a black stallion to Bresson’s silent mockery of a poor donkey.

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The Whimsy of Design

Stig Lindberg


Interlocking leaf design on ceramic plate

Here's a lull (only) from the regular architecture and society blogs I've been posting for a little while now...

I always associate Scandinavian design with light, pastel colors. Perhaps it is their way of dealing with the dark, long winters. Or, as I find the case to be here in Toronto, the sun does shine brightly in winter, and the white snow does give a light, airy glow to the surroundings.

Swedish designer Stig Lindberg's works are currently on display at the National Museum in Sweden. What comes across are whimsical, humorous ceramics and textiles with the ever-present touch of color.

One of the mandates of the Swedish Cooperative Union and Wholesale Society, which bought out the struggling Gustavesberg porcelain factory for whom Lindberg worked, was to produce aesthetically pleasing, high quality products for ordinary consumers. Lindberg was immensely successful with that vision, and the cooperative profitted accordingly.



Vases and cups
[click images to view enlarged photos]

Although designers always take themselves seriously, Lindberg apparently took himself seriously with a dosage of humor and whimsy. His designs come out as playful, elegant and intelligent. With of course the requisite color added in for our bonus.





Clever monochromatic (almost) print, and Stig's pottery on textile
[click images to view enlarged photos]

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From Sea, to Sea, to Sea

Canada's Threesome


Canadian Museum of Civilization

Canada's motto "from sea to sea" is being considered for a change to "from sea to sea to sea" at the request of the northern territories (which are predominantly Indian).

This third "sea" includes the Artic Ocean, which is now probably going to hold the same position as the other two - the Pacific and the Atlantic - in defining the "Canadian landscape", both geographically and culturally.

I don't know if this is such a great idea, but here is a very clear instance of what we should expect of the future of Canada.

During a wonderful hiatus in Ottawa, I visited the Canadian Museum of Civilization twice. Each time, I was overwhelmed by the architecture and the location.

What struck me here was not the three seas, as much as three peoples - the French, the English and the Indian - which the museum tries to depict (or better incorporate). Unfortunately, though, at the rate all this is going, there is going to have to be many other "seas" created to accommodate what we've seen of the Haitian, the Chinese, the East Indians, and the list goes on.

The building itself is a unique, almost incongruent, mass. It looks like moulded, rounded hills, all white and textured and beautiful. Douglas Cardinal, the architect, who is part native Indian, said his intention was just that: to bring out the natural elements of rock and erosion into a symbolic building.

Sitting in Hull, Quebec, facing the Parliament Hill, this imposing building tries to unite these three elements of Canadian life (the Indian, the French and the English) in a forceful way.

Yet, there is little, really, joining these distinctly three "solitudes".

Each is imposing in its own way, but a simple bridge from Hull to Ottawa while sitting on Quebec land does not merge these three, and the museum's "organic" structure is just as alien to the Parliament Hill’s pinnacled rooftops as it is to the artificial bilingualism enforced in its interior - how does that let the real Quebec inside?



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Parliament Hill from Musuem ...............Bridge across the Ottawa River
............................[click images to view enlarged photos]

Nonethelss, it is a brave project, which has given us a uniquely beautiful and imposing building.

Unlike the new Toronto opera house's architect, this one is certainly no weak character.

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