Luis Buñuel’s marvelous film Belle de Jour (1967) is a psychodrama detailing the dual life of a woman of sophistication who is wife of a wealthy surgeon by night but a prostitute by day. Buñuel was a true film master whose penetrating insights into human nature are typically presented in a detached, bemused, and nonjudgmental manner. Buñuel, a Spanish native who produced most of his work as an ex-patriot because of the repressive atmosphere of Franco Spain, was much admired by such film luminaries as Alfred Hitchcock and Martin Scorsese. Buñuel was a pioneer of surrealism in the 1920’s and 1930’s when he produced among other works the highly original masterpiece L’Age D’Or (1930). He continued to make films into the 1970’s.

Historical Context: The producers of Belle de Jour, Raymond and Robert Hakim, refused to re-release this widely admired film for either theater screenings or video for over 25 years. In 1995, Miramax purchased the rights from their estate and selected this classic film treasure to launch their subsidiary, Miramax Zoe, which concentrates on restoration and re-release of classic French masterpieces.

The Story: The protagonist of this story is Severine (Catherine Deneuve). She is the devoted and loving wife of a rich surgeon, Pierre (Jean Sorel). They have been married for over a year and have yet to consummate their relationship, sleeping in separate twin beds. Pierre is more than interested in having sex with her but accepts her disinterest because he is a loving and supportive husband. He believes her to be either frigid or extremely shy about sex. He coaxes her patiently, without pressuring her unduly. What Pierre does not understand is that behind Severine’s frosty exterior lurk masochistic fantasies of perverse intensity.

The audience understands this, however, from the very opening scene. The film begins as if it were a romantic period piece with a handsome aristocratic couple out for a ride in their elaborate horse-drawn carriage, complete with coachmen. Unexpectedly, the carriage stops and the husband orders the coachmen to bind his wife to a tree in the nearby woods, to whip her, and rape her. All the while, she pants and moans in explosions of pain and ecstasy. Then, suddenly, the woman, Severine, opens her eyes and we see that she is now gazing dispassionately across her bedroom where her sweet and gentle but bland husband Pierre is dressed in cute little pajamas. All that we previously witnessed was merely her fantasy. She climbs into her separate twin bed. Severine’s mind, it seems, is occupied both night and day, in dreams and daydreams, by fantasies of humiliation, including elaborate bondage and flogging scenarios.

Otherwise, Severine’s life is comprised of mainly social engagements such as teas and luncheons and dinners with Pierre and their friends. At one such dinner, an old friend of the family, Henri Husson (Michel Piccoli), boldly tries to seduce Severine. He is a suave but cynical kind of man who seems bent on seduction with as little genuine investment of feeling as possible. Severine is nonplussed and dismisses his overtures politely but definitely. Henri tells her that he is mainly fascinated by her because of her virtue. For her part, Severine is not actually closed to the idea of an affair, but an affair based on mere virtue is the furthest thing from her desires.

During a taxi ride, Severine is told by the driver about a Parisian brothel where bored housewives work in the afternoons as prostitutes to earn pocket money. She also learns about a friend who works as a prostitute by day in an exclusive high-class brothel. During these conversations, Severine shows no outward sign of interest but viewers understand that she is fascinated. Here, perhaps, is a way that she can act out her obsessive fantasies of a submissive sexual role.

Severine is inevitably drawn to one of the brothels that she has heard about, though with great trepidation. Though her face remains impassive, we see in the manner of her movements an amazing mixture of intrigue and uncertainty. The brothel in question is located in a luxurious apartment building and is operated by Madame Anais (Genevieve Page). Severine hesitates, turns away, turns back, and rings the bell. She enters and talks briefly with Madame Anais. She leaves impulsively but later returns. She inquires about the rules, thinks it over, and, finally agrees. She will become Belle de Jour, working only from 2-5 P.M., a couple of days a week.

In her first few days, Severine encounters an assortment of men with a variety of kinky needs. Here Buñuel chooses to mostly poke fun at the range of perverse desires that humans experience. These customers furnish some comic relief. There is, for example, the renowned gynecologist who needs to be punished. Another customer is a wealthy businessman who likes games with three girls at a time. Over time, her relationships with her customers become increasingly kinky and titillating. She also begins to develop her own distinctive niche in the brothel as “a real aristocrat.”

Severine’s life as a prostitute begins to take a complicating turn when she develops a relationship with a handsome but somewhat sadistic gangster named Marcel (Pierre Clementi). He excites her misguided urge to flirt with danger. He insults her by initially refusing to have sex with her because she has a mole on her back. This excites her and she tells him he won’t even have to pay. It’s not so much that she actually likes this creepy fellow. It’s just that he represents the kind of brutal man that appears regularly in her fantasies. Gradually, however, Marcel grows attached to Severine and demands more and more of her time and attention. He wants to possess her and is no longer satisfied with just a couple of afternoons a week. Marcel seems constantly on the fine edge of both craving Severine and wanting to shame and abuse her. All the while, Severine’s husband remains happily ignorant about what she does with her days. He is, however, delighted when he receives the ancillary benefit of increased sexual attention at home.

Inevitably, Severine’s two worlds are headed on a path of collision. Marcel threatens to invade her life outside the brothel. Henri Husson discovers her newfound hobby and, although the knowledge douses his own ardor for her, he threatens to expose her activity to her husband. Buñuel carries the story through to a brilliant conclusion that leaves viewers wondering whether Severine’s two worlds collided in reality or merely in her fantasies?

Themes and Issues: One of the amazing qualities of Belle de Jour is how thoroughly it manages to be tastefully erotic without resorting to pornography. Belle de Jour is classy in its titillation. There are no athletic sex scenes and the only nudity is subtly veiled. Nevertheless, the film is all the more intimate precisely because it deals with Severine’s inner fantasy life rather than the physicality of sexuality. Severine’s pleasure derives from relief of her own internal feelings rather than from the actual events at the brothel. Moreover, Deneuve’s performance is so marvelously understated, that we are left on our own to imagine what she is thinking and feeling most of the time. Since Buñuel leaves so much to our imaginations, that in turn means that viewers are in large part exploring their own fantasies as they imagine what Severine must be feeling. Severine may be incurring risks by how she pursues her fantasy life, but each viewer can pursue their own in splendid, risk-free, escapism.

Buñuel is also a cunning master at blurring the line between fantasy and reality. All together, the film can be viewed as encompassing segments in four realms of existence: (1) Severine’s real life with Pierre as well as her luncheons and teas; (2) her afternoons at the brothel; (3) the fantasy life of her dreams and daydreams; and (4) the flashbacks to her childhood (which may be real events, fantasy, or real events elaborated by fantasy). At various points in the film, Buñuel leaves us guessing about which of these domains we are in. The flashbacks (which portray a strict Catholic upbringing combined with some episodes of molestation) seem to imply a possible connection between Severine’s erotic fantasies and childhood abuse, but we can’t be certain how much the recollections have been contaminated by fantasy. Buñuel aptly illustrates in this film the importance of fantasy as a driving force in our lives.

Another theme is the issue of double-lives. Although the idea of two people in one body is a commonplace theme in today’s psychological thrillers, it was an idea that had been much less thoroughly explored in 1967. Compartmentalization of personality or activities can’t hold up indefinitely. Sooner or later such domains are likely to intersect or collide.

Another theme of Belle de Jour is the dichotomy between our deepest cravings and our inhibitions. We can be victims of our own lusts but we can also be victims of the conventions of society and our own related inhibitions. Kinky sex has both allure and repulsion. In Belle de Jour, the brothel can be seen as the antithesis of marriage. Love in the brothel can be truer pursuit of one’s passions and turn-ons, but lacks genuine affection. Love in marriage can entail genuine affection, but often without opportunity to pursue one’s true fantasies.

Some reviewers take issue with the film for its unrealistic portrayal of the nature of prostitution. I think that prostitution has no single, universally accurate reality. The extent to which prostitution is exploitive must certainly vary tremendously from one circumstance to another, from private arrangements and call girls to street prostitutes, drug-addicted hookers, or sexual slaves. Prostitution is rightfully a politicized issue but, unfortunately, politicization also means that any examination of the reality of the phenomenon gets colored by how any given depiction is likely to impact on political agendas. Those interested in a film perspective that examines prostitution at its seediest and most exploitive level might want to check out Lizzie Borden’s Working Girls. The girls in that film are clearly not exploring erotic yearnings in the manner of Belle de Jour. I imagine that the issues explored in Belle de Jour are far less typical of the reality of prostitution than are the issues presented in Working Girls, but that doesn’t mean that Buñuel’s subject matter has no reality whatsoever.

Production Values: Buñuel moves with such utter skill between fantasy and reality in this film that he sometimes tricks us into not knowing for certain when we are in one domain and when in the another. First time viewers are likely to mistake the opening dream segment for reality. At the end of the film, he leaves us guessing whether the final sequence occurred in reality or in Severine’s imagination. Buñuel uses some clever deceptions to throw us off track and to make the contrasts all the more shocking. He begins with a lovely, aristocratic country setting and a pleasant looking couple traveling in a carriage and turns it into perverse sexual subject matter. He lulls us with Deneuve’s aloof, reserved beauty and then hits us with her raging fantasies. The shifts between fantasies and reality are not marked by the usual kind of film devices. This is genuine artistry and far more effective than the current practice of unlimited graphic sex and violence that leaves nothing to the imagination. Severine’s fantasies are presented stylishly.

The beautiful yet icy countenance of Catherine Deneuve created in Severine a character that is both glacial and erotic. The film succeeds, ultimately, by her performance. Whether her performance was brilliant or whether casting her in the role was brilliant makes an interesting debate. Some believe that Deneuve, who is sometimes called the ice-queen, merely had to be herself for this part. Regardless of how much of the credit belongs to Deneuve and how much to Buñuel, the result is magnificent. At the least, Deneuve gets full credit for the development that her character undergoes as the film progresses, from sophisticated aloofness to increased playfulness as she becomes more sexually liberated. Deneuve has a natural grace and sophistication combined with ravishing sexiness that few film stars can equal. Her performance here is often characterized as one of the best of her brilliant career, which encompassed more than 60 films.

Bottom-Line: Belle de Jour is an erotic fantasy presented with elegance and a nonjudgmental tone. It is amusingly depraved but with a touch of class. This film is rated R for sadomasochism, sexually explicit scenes, and nudity. It is in French with English subtitles and has a running time of 100 minutes.


Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Good Date Movie
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age