This review is not of
Robert Bresson’s Pickpocket as such, but of the 2-disk DVD version
released in the UK in 2005. For someone familiar with the film, the most
fascinating aspect of the DVD is the “extras”, particularly an interview
with the reclusive Bresson and a 52-minute documentary, The Models of
Pickpocket, consisting of recent interviews with three of the leading
actors.
First, Pickpocket itself.
Made in 1959, a commercial and critical failure at the time, it is now
considered to be among the two or three greatest and most seminal films
of the French master. It was loosely inspired by Dostoevsky’s Crime
and Punishment whose central character regards himself as a superior
moral being who, unlike the common herd of people, is entitled to rob and
murder. (A similar theme is found in, for example, Hitchcock’s 1948 film
Rope.)
In Pickpocket, the young man Michel feels a compulsion, almost a
divine obligation, to become an expert pickpocket, not for the material
gain but simply for its own sake. He is shadowed and eventually trapped
by a police inspector, and only when he is in prison does he realise that
his true vocation was to be with the young woman who loved him, Jeanne.
These other two characters have their counterparts in Crime and Punishment.
Like the director’s 1950
film Diary of a Country Priest, Pickpocket takes the form
of a diary, presumably being written in prison. We hear Michel’s voice
describing what happened, sometimes preceded by his writing it on squared
notepaper, and then we see the scene in question. Strictly speaking, therefore,
what we are seeing is not the actual events, but the events as recalled
later by Michel. Perhaps this helps to justify Bresson’s highly elliptical
method of showing only what he considers essential, and of galloping through
long sections of the story in literally seconds.
Bresson had long developed
his unique method of training his (non-)actors, or “models”, to eschew
all expressionism and theatricality in their performances. They act largely
with their eyes, nearly all the spoken dialogue being in a kind of fast
monotone. They are chosen for their facial expressionlessness, Michel being
played by Martin Lasalle, reminiscent of the young Henry Fonda or Montgomery
Clift. Jeanne is played by Marika Green, a pretty blonde 16-year-old. I
do not recall a single character smile throughout the entire film.
Bresson always opposed
the notion of psychological motivation, and his characters often perform
actions for no apparent reason. I have already mentioned that Michel’s
motive for thieving is not the obvious one, in fact it is as if he is being
driven forward by some irresistible force. This is in tune with Bresson’s
supposed Jansenism, a kind of Catholic heresy which emphasised predestination
and one’s inability to influence one’s fate. Pickpocket repays repeated
viewing, and has hugely influenced other film-makers such as Martin Scorsese
and Paul Schrader.
To turn to the DVD extras,
and particularly to The Models of Pickpocket. The actors playing
Michel, Jeanne, and Michel’s friend Jacques were sought out and interviewed
45 years later, and they each reminisced about their experiences with Bresson,
about his numerous “takes” (Martin Lasalle had to walk upstairs about 50
times for one brief shot), his particular interest in very young women
(in a perfectly gentlemanly way), his original intention to entitle the
film Uncertainty, and many other interesting reflections. One discovery
for me was that both Martin LaSalle (now totally unrecognisable from his
pickpocket role) and Marika Green subsequently became professional actors,
which I had thought applied to only two of Bresson’s “models” (Anne Wiazemsky
of Au Hasard Balthazar and Dominique Sanda of Une Femme Douce), much to
his displeasure. According to their filmographies Green has played in 30
French films while Lasalle, who trained at the famous Actors’ Studio in
New York (associated with such icons as Marlon Brando and Montgomery Clift)
and lives in Mexico City, has appeared in no fewer than 60, mostly obscure
Mexican movies but including John Duigan’s Romero (1989) about the
assassinated Archbishop of El Salvador.
The remaining DVD extras,
besides the short Bresson interview, are a short stage interview with Marika
Green and (I think) a French critic and a director, and a cabaret performance,
filmed for French TV, by Kassagi, the master pickpocket in the film who
in reality was a stage magician who specialised in swallowing razor blades.
Altogether, a highly commended DVD of a classic film.
Alan
Pavelin