Claude Chabrol's Sinners: Introduction

CHABROL'S SINNERS

un série sinistre by john cribbs

Welcome to Chabrol's Sinners, a series about characters from the movies of Claude Chabrol. The nine films I'm planning to write about have been informally separated into three Cycles, three films per cycle. They are grouped thematically rather than chronologically, although several happen to have been made around the same time and reflect the same ideas Chabrol was obviously exploring at that time in his career. A compris? Bon.

CYCLE ONE: TRIANGLES

introduction

Claude Chabrol had little use for religion. He figured that out early, immediately after his 1958 debut Le Berge Serge, in which the theme of redemption, while not distractingly heavy-handed, proved somewhat antithetical to the director's greater interests. François' mission to "save" his depravedly self-destructive "handsome" friend flatly categorized Serge's excessive drinking, open infidelity and abuse towards his pregnant wife as something indisputably wrong that could be cured - in this case, by the instinctive and virtuous responsibility of fatherhood. And while it's suggested that the hectoring righteousness offered by François - himself a former theology student and recovering alcoholic - only exacerbates the prevailing moral lapse of the people in the small town, the ending is drenched in Bressonian sacrifice and salvation. That François is studiously "good" and Serge vigorously "bad," even under very clearly established circumstances, is a judgement that Chabrol isn't comfortable laying on his characters. Even moreso, to end on one person having a positive influence on another proved to be an uninteresting dead end for a filmmaker whose predominant themes are corruption, mistrust and the motivations leading to a crime.

Chabrol substituted atonement with damnation for the climax of Serge's follow-up Les cousins, in which he literally reverses everything from the first movie: the provincial youth travels to the city, the profligate's potential "redemption" through parenthood is terminated early on and, rather than have the "good" man save the "bad" by risking his own life, Chabrol's ostensible hero levels a gun at his hedonistic double's sleeping head. "L'enfer, c'est les autres," a famous Frenchman wrote, and while allusions to a decadent decent into the netherworld of goateed, Wagner-venerating Paul for beamish student Charles have been noted in Les cousins, it's really the second part of the quote that applies to Chabrol. "Other people" are the factor here, their impious behavior the collective catalyst that incites the morally responsible party to a damning act of violence. Morality exists in Chabrol's world, but only on a sliding scale, lack of guilt or fear of consequence the acceptable inclination for one that gradually corrodes the ideals of the other. These remorseless sinners have made Chabrol's abandonment of religion their own steadfast exoneration for the way they live and how they treat other people, but for the recently initiated this perceived godlessness decimates their reliable value system. In Cousins, when Charles seeks guidance after flunking his exam - the incident which seals the film's twisted climax - the church is literally closed. The shot dissolves to the bookseller who's given Charles nothing but useless, uninformed encouragements throughout the film, and the message is clear: there will always be more people to offer the absolute worst advice than those like François who want to save everybody. For those who rely on a moral center, this revelation is like having the carpet pulled out from under them; for those who don't it's just further vindication of their own unanswerable existence.

So who are these sinners? They can be separated into two different broad categories: confident manipulator who makes no apologies for the tiny transgressions that make up his libertine lifestyle, and the straight "lesser" man led to one big unforgivable act by a strange combination of envy, indignation and resentment towards the former. For whatever reason (ranging from boredom to personal rebellion to simply being "a monster"), characters in the first group have given themselves over to pure indulgence that those in the second group find attractive and repulsive in equal measure. None of these are mortal atrocities, and certainly nothing illegal: they're psychological games that flourish within the sinner's society to the extent that the people around him just naturally come under his assured ethos, even as they shake their heads knowingly at the obvious moves he makes. Initiated by Character "A" into worlds they didn't know existed, with a level of depravity, and acceptance thereof, that completely shocks their value system, Character "B" is ultimately compelled into a murderous state, begging the question of which sinner is more wicked. The "A" character whose permissibly abhorrent behavior - his human crimes - lead to the "B" character's moral breakdown? Or the "B" character who actually commits the final destructive act?

Chabrol doesn't take sides. Maintaining a godlike watch over his characters, he somehow remains impartial. Although stature and class are a big part of his films, his judgement is not necessarily with the victim or the tormentor, the naïve country bumpkin or the spoiled intellectual - he's sympathetic to everyone and no one, concerning himself instead with where his characters stand on the stage he's created. This First Cycle of films contain his most accessible structure: a pair of "sinners" and a third party whose relationship with the two of them incites the unforgivable crime - a semblant triangle with the sinners connected on oppose ends. Cousins introduced the prototypes for Chabrol's reciprocal "double" relationship with the recurring names Paul and Charles, the id and ego to assign their roles very loosely. The Paul ("A") character is entitled, comfortably amoral, creative, typically of a high social stature (often a cultured epicurean), experienced and quite simply gets what he wants. In contrast the Charles ("B") character is vulnerable, sensitive, socially inept and reputedly unsophisticated, unconfident, sometimes (but not necessarily) lower class/unsuccessful* and virginal. This person may very well know what he wants, but for whatever reason he can't get it, and sees in his opposite an effortless success that he'll never obtain. "Paul" has character, virility - a lot of which comes from a simple understanding of the world around him, which "Charles" remains ignorant of. "Charles" has close ties to family, unlike the independent Paul who instead depends on a superficial collection of people to fill the void (even when that collection happen to be related by blood), although this apparent strength also leaves him vulnerable to the pain of loss or fear of failure and shame. The Paul characters don't like to be reminded that they have responsibility to other people, whereas the Charleses don't like to be reminded that they are small and unsuccessful. If "Paul" is defined by his obscenity and knack for vulgarity, "Charles" is made equally identifiable based by his weakness and impotence.

But not by any lack of conviction. While a "Paul" requires no motivation for his sinful life, "Charles" does for his ultimate sinful action. Although he flirts with danger, "Paul" is timid when it comes to anything derived from sentiment and therefore can't commit murder - he might kill, but it would have to be an accident. The "Charles" crime isn't only premeditated, it's built on a complicated series of emotions so substantial they factor in his own destruction. "Paul" is punished by "Charles," but with the evil act Charles also obstinately condemns himself, either through assisted suicide or a direct surrender to the authorities - a consequence that is unmistakably intentional. What Chabrol does, at least in this Cycle One series of films, is bring these two people together to create one whole person, and one of the two - the weaker, and most likely to be "absorbed" - resents the union. He strikes out against the other out of powerlessness and distress within the stronger partner's environment, which not incidentally always becomes the main setting in Chabrol's movies. Some part of the Charles character realizes he could just as easily enjoy the luxuries enjoyed by "Paul," but secretly "Charles" knows he's not really entitled to it. It may have worked for a while to live vicariously through his "other," but before long the dominant personality becomes too domineering and must physically cease to exist so that the remaining one can survive. The only option left to this repressed individual is to make his homicidal urge as concrete as his sense of moral decency, so that murder becomes his new religion.

If "Paul" hadn't come along, "Charles" would never have been corrupted. But if "Charles" hadn't come along, a serious crime never would have occurred. From nowhere in particular enters a third character who serves as the peripheral plot instrument to bring about this co-dependent annihilation. This character is neither good or evil, even torn between the impulsive luxury of a "Paul" and the dull constancy of a "Charles." The third party is usually portrayed by Chabrol as exceptionally flat, even though it's the introduction of this person into the lead characters' relationship that makes up the crux of their conflict. These characters and their dynamics evolved over Chabrol's career: as formulaic as this first cycle of films sound, Chabrol showed there are infinite variations on the same basic set-up and had his characters switch traits from one movie to another like they were switching hats - "criss-cross!" if you insist on a Hitchcock parallel.

I don't insist on it, personally. A lot has been made by (mostly British) critics of Chabrol's characters' "exchange of guilt," a theme the director applied to Hitchcock's films in the book he wrote with Eric Rohmer prior to his own directing career. There is undeniably a little bit of transference that takes place between characters in the three Cycle One films (even a physical one in the second movie I'm writing about), but like religion it's the dread of the absence of guilt and its implications that both terrorize and empower the motivated sinner to his final act (that in itself is very un-Hitchcock like: Chabrol's murders aren't shocking but inevitable, and typically occur within the first or last minutes of a film.) In this sense, the professional sinner maintains even the moral superiority over his "better" half, such is his liberation from obligation and responsibility. Again there's that question of whose corner Chabrol is in, and it's not unquestionable that he may very well champion the devious, atheist rogue who seems to have taken to heart the words of Luis Buñuel** - "It's guilt we must escape from, not God."

I've said a lot in this intro that's been extensively covered in studies of Chabrol over the years (and other stuff that's just pretty obvious), but I hope it will be a springboard to open up some new ideas about some of the characters in some of his best movies. Although his work is arguably the most straightforward and accessible, he remains the most frustrating Nouvelle Vague figurehead to access from any given starting point and end on a comprehensive correlation of ideas. His voluminous output made it difficult to mount this series*** - I've only seen just over half of his 54 feature films and will probably end up leaving out some significant ones (if I ever get my hands on a subtitled version of L'oeil du malin or Les godelureaux I'll most likely expand the series.) There are a few things I'm going to try and leave out of the series entirely, including any comparisons to Hitchcock and considering Chabrol's work within the context of the New Wave. Not that I don't feel like some of that stuff has merit or that I'm trying to let myself off easy by divorcing Chabrol from the bigger picture, it's that these things have been attributed to the director so often and so intently I'd just as well stay away from them if possible. And there are other things I'm hoping to explore a little further, like Chabrol's feelings about class relations in France, which are far more complicated than most people give him credit for. But mainly I want to get inside the heads of these sinners, what their sins are and, according to Chabrol, whose transgressions are most unforgivable.

* It's too easy to point to the motivation being Charles' indignation over the fact that Paul has all the things he does only because of stature/class/wealth. Many writers have pointed to the "social commentary" on Chabrol's films, but that's something I'm hoping to form a fresh look on with these articles.

** A filmmaker, by the way, who Chabrol has a lot more in common with than Hitchcock...I mean, only in terms of style, humor, characters, their shared interest in crime, democracy, women, human nature and institutions.

*** Has any filmmaker suffered more for his prolificity than Claude Chabrol? Even before he died people insisted on dissecting his career, trying to put his work into categories or phases etc. To a certain extent, I'm shaping the "cycles" of this series to go against forcing his films into "periods." I prefer to be able to pluck freely from my Chabrol tree.

home about contact us featured writings years in review film productions