The Marquise of O… | Blu-ray Review

Film Movement brings Eric Rohmer’s classic period film The Marquise of O… to Blu-ray, the first time the title is made available in the US (previously, it was sandwiched into a Region 2 Rohmer collection, the same set which features another rare title, 1982’s A Good Marriage). Awarded the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival (it tied with Carlos Saura’s Cria Cuervos), it would be the only accolade the famed filmmaker would collect from the event and it was his last time in competition.

It’s one of Rohmer’s earliest historical dramas (he would continue in this vein intermittently, with titles like Perceval and The Lady and the Duke), and initially seems like a black comedy on social mores before it seeps into a . A German co-production, the film is based on a short story by Heinrich von Kleist (Jessica Hausner’s 2014 film Amour Fou documents the writer’s curious denouement, while Kleist’s most adapted work is Michael Kohlhaas, with versions adapted by Volker Schlondorff, John Badham, and recently Arnaud des Pallieres) and is a deliberately paced comedy of manners managing to be as lovely as it troubling and amusing.

A group of men in a café read aloud a letter posted in the gazette from the Marquise of O, a woman from a reputable family requesting the father of her unborn child step forward to marry her. Amidst the shock at such audacity, we retreat to a time several months prior examining how an upstanding woman like herself came to be with child. In 1799 Italy, a citadel controlled by a Colonel (Peter Luhr) is stormed during an invasion by the Russian army. His daughter, Julietta, the Marquise of O (Edith Clever), is abducted by a group of soldiers attempting to rape her, but she’s saved at the last minute by the Russian Count F (Bruno Ganz). Indebted to him, Julietta is unable to give thanks before he leaves the country. Some time passes, and her family receives word the Count has died…until he suddenly appears on their doorstep begging for the Marquise’s hand in marriage. Her family declines an immediate response despite his insistence, and he returns to fulfill his obligations to the Russian army before returning for a response. And then Julietta discovers she is pregnant. A widow and mother of two from her previous marriage, she’s not sure how the pregnancy happened. In disbelief her father and mother (Edda Sieppel) disown her despite the Marquise’s insistence she’s done no wrong.

As with many of Rohmer’s works, The Marquise of O… hinges on sublimated human desire within the specific context of social propriety. The title ended a four year hiatus from Rohmer following 1972’s Chloe in the Afternoon, which perhaps added to the film’s enthusiastic reception (particularly from one of Rohmer’s chief critical supporter, Vincent Canby of The New York Times). As Quentin Tarantino has commented on Rohmer, audiences either cherish or remain unenthused by these exercises in politely observed exchanges ruled by social custom.

What seems most shocking about The Marquise of O… is not the terrible treatment of the poor Marquise, but those observing the film as a romantically inclined examination of a proprietary society, with David Kehr knighting it a “neoclassical dream.” It’s intriguing to note how several titans from the critical realm dance around the film’s problematic sexual subtext, and what this may say about a history of overarching masculine perspective criticism is troubling.

Rohmer often centers narrative on the titular women in his work, either by name (Chloe, Claire, Maud, and Pauline) or even social standing (The Aviator’s Wife). Clever’s Marquise is defined by her social standing rather than her name/identity, an unfortunate woman in an undesirable situation. How much are we supposed to believe (or does Rohmer) even believe her? Obviously, her unplanned pregnancy is not a religious miracle (a thought not even entertained, as pronounced by a savvy mid-wife), so the options are the Marquise is fully complicit in her predicament or, rather, she was date raped. Which would explain the overzealousness of Ganz’s chivalrous Count F to have her hand in marriage. And thus, Nestor Almendros’ beautiful cinematography (a stand out in a decade where he worked with Malick, Truffaut, Pialat, and on several Rohmer titles) is most successful in how it assists Rohmer in what is actually a brilliant subversion of interpretation and expectation.

Disc Review:

The title is a new addition to Film Movement’s growing library of Blu-ray releases under their Classics label (and makes an excellent companion to their simultaneous release of Hausner’s Amour Fou). Presented in 1.33:1, it’s a beautiful digital restoration of the title, and features several extra features, including an essay from film critic David Thomson.

Archival Interview – Bruno Ganz:
In this three minute archival interview with Ganz, the actor discusses his portrayal of the Count, which was his first film role. Ganz shares his thoughts on the transition from an actor of the stage to film.

Archival Interview – Eric Rohmer:
Two minutes of footage from a 1980 interview during a stage production of Von Kleist’s Katie of Heilbronn finds Rohmer reminiscing about why he chose to film The Marquise of O.

Final Thoughts:

Though technically The Marquise of O… can be classified as a comedy, it’s actually one of Rohmer’s most subversive representations of an untoward social dilemma. Exquisitely photographed and exceptionally acted (particularly from Edith Clever as the title character), it’s an exceptional title from one of cinema’s masters.

Film: ★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆
Disc: ★★★½/☆☆☆☆☆