As an admirer of Eric
Rohmer, and having seen (almost) all of his many films, I recently revisited
this 1992 offering from his “Tales of the Four Seasons” cycle. I regard
it not only as the best of that cycle (the “Springtime” and “Summer” films
are admittedly rather thin) but certainly as among his half-dozen finest
films, along with My Night With Maud, Claire’s Knee, Percival, and The
Green Ray.
The title is a direct
reference to the Shakespeare play, an extract from which comprises a key
scene in the film, except that the play is called The Winter’s Tale. The
indefinite article in the film’s English title (no article at all in the
French) indicates that it is just one of countless stories which could
have been told, though there is a clear thematic link to the Shakespeare.
As in many other Rohmer
films, the protaganist is a somewhat irritating young woman who cannot
seem to make up her mind. Felicie (Charlotte Very, perhaps best-known as
Lucille in Kieslowski’s Three Colours Blue) meets and falls in love with
Charles while on holiday; the first few minutes are the most sexually explicit
scenes in all Rohmer, which may not be saying much. Something of a scatterbrain,
as she readily admits, she mistakenly gives him the wrong address (it’s
the name of her town which she gets wrong, would you believe!). We then
skip to “five years later” when Felicie, with daughter Elise, cannot decide
between two men, a hairdresser and an intellectual librarian, while secretly
being still in love with Elise’s father Charles. Her confusion is illustrated
by her sudden decision to move from Paris to Nevers with the hairdresser,
and her equally sudden decision to return a day or two later.
Like The Green Ray, the
film ends with a kind of miracle, strongly prefigured when she is taken
to see the Shakespeare play which ends with a statue coming to life. This
scene is itself prefigured when she unexpectedly finds herself praying
in the cathedral at Nevers, the two scenes being linked by a musical theme.
We also briefly see, in the cathedral chapel, the preserved body of St.
Bernadette, a kind of recumbent statue which will not return to life. (We
can also speculate whether Rohmer’s choice of Nevers was at all influenced
by the fact that one of the most famous “new wave” films, Resnais’ Hiroshima
mon Amour, was set there.)
A Winter’s Tale contains
most of Rohmer’s trademarks: some brief beach holiday scenes at the beginning,
lots of location shots of Paris streets and metro, some pseudo-intellectual
conversations about Pascal and Catholicism (in which Felicie is out of
her depth), some probably-improvised dialogue, especially in the scenes
with the child Elise, and one or two familiar faces from other Rohmer films
in minor parts. In particular I noticed for the first time (at the third
viewing) that the tiny role of a character called Dora was played by the
delightful Marie Riviere, the lead in The Green Ray and the co-star of
An Autumn Tale.
A Winter’s Tale is a moving,
magical, exceptionally well-acted film by a man who in my view is certainly
the finest living French director. In his old age, and a new century, he
has proved flexible enough to venture successfully into new genres with
The Lady and the Duke and Triple Agent. But Rohmer will always be best
known for his talky, witty, utterly delightful portraits of young people
in real or imagined love, exemplified by this 1992 classic.
Alan
Pavelin