Monday, April 30, 2012

47: Lola

            The seminal films of the French New Wave are some of the most creative and beautiful pieces of cinema ever assembled.  This incredibly productive and progressive period yielded numerous films that I cannot bear the thought of never seeing again, and I find myself almost consistently impressed when I discover the wonders within the movement’s earliest offerings.  Jacques Demy’s Lola (1961) is no exception, and it also serves well in hinting at the treasures to come with his masterpiece The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964).

            Demy’s film, dedicated in opening credit to Max Ophüls, begins mysteriously as an American convertible, driven by a rather cowboy-esque figure, cruises along the boardwalk of the coastal town of Nantes.  The cowboy appears only briefly in this opening sequence, but his presence is central to the remainder of the film, and his early presence sets the movie off.  Some critics feel that the plots and characters of the Nouvelle Vague are essentially interchangeable, and that the films overlap too much in theme.  While Roland, the central figure of Demy’s story, suffers from many of the same strains as other New Wave heroes, by comparison he is distinguishably plain, lacking the charisma of the typical Jean-Paul Belmondo role.  Perhaps this lack of charisma is why Demy chose instead to title the film for Roland’s love interest, the gorgeous cabaret dancer Lola (Anouk Aimée).  

            When the two characters meet after years apart, she recognizes him immediately, but he hesitates, almost struck by how beautiful she has become.  He’d thought of her only minutes before, but never was she so striking in his recollections.  She’s thought of him often too, but in her mind no man can replace her lost love, and the father of her child, Michel.  In this regard, comparison between Lola and Félicie, the protagonist of Eric Rohmer’s A Tale of Winter (1992; # 52), is unavoidable, and indeed both women are content to live out their lives waiting for the return of their former lover.  But where Félicie seemed to engage in sexual relationships out of a need for human contact, Lola finds joy in her trysts, even taking the occasional customer at the cabaret home with her.

            Roland spends much of the film hoping that Lola will show such kindness to him, and thinks that perhaps she may even be convinced to marry him.  They have a connection no doubt, but Roland has little to offer her but a friendly and familiar face.  He’s been fired from his job, and his prospects for finding any type of sustainable or legitimate work don’t seem very promising.  He’s intelligent enough, but lacks the responsibility necessary for any serious work.  The audience is given the sense that he’s read nearly everything in a local book shop, but that he could never be organized enough to manage such place.  There he meets a mother and her precocious teenage daughter, and volunteers an English dictionary to be loaned to the girl.  The mother hesitantly accepts the offer and tells him to come by their home with the book that night, perhaps with intentions peripheral to foreign language.

            What strikes me so much about this film is the interconnectedness of the characters.  They don’t feel forced together, as is the case with so many of the lesser hypertext movies of late, in which characters who were supposed to have nothing to do with one another somehow are drawn together in the end.  The plot of Lola feels legitimately coincidental, to the point where I was hoping for an ironic ending (of any kind) and not dreading foreseeable connections.  This is a strength of the script that is complemented by the cinematography of Raoul Coutard, who makes Nantes a city of dramatic angles and interlocking avenues in which this almost fairytale coincidence seems plausible.  Equal praise should go to Michel Lagrand, whose use of musical variations sets nearly every scene perfectly, with styles from Classical to Jazz.

            Lola was Demy’s first feature, and though he went on to make other good films, and the great Umbrellas, he never became a superstar of the New Wave like Godard, Truffaut, and Rohmer.  Instead he’s considered a part of the “left bank,” a group of directors whose films contributed to the movement, but didn’t necessarily define it.  Also in that group is his spouse Agnès Varda, whom he wed shortly after the release of Lola, and was married to until his death from AIDS 1990.  Of the Nouvelle Vague set he was the director perhaps most interested in the classic Hollywood style, and while visually Lola is pure New Wave, it does have the magical and dreamlike feel of old Hollywood woven within its narrative…”with a little sex in it” as John L. Sullivan said.


Language: French
Runtime: 90 Minutes


Grade: 3 Hats Off

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