CAUTION: This review includes explicit language necessary to the subject matter.

Can a film that is 225 minutes long, has little plot, and no significant amount of action be interesting? Entertaining? This film, despite such characteristics, is not only good – it will grab you by the throat and not let go until the final frame slinks past. I especially recommend this film for passionate young adults of both genders, age 17 to 37 for example, because it deals with essential matters of primal concern to that group: love, romance, sex, and the basics of human relationships. Set in 1973, the issues remain as pertinent today as they ever were.

Historical Background: The sociological phenomenon known as “The Sixties” did not really precisely correspond to that calendar decade. It began, arguably, in 1959 and, at the other end, dribbled a bit into the early 1970’s. In cinema, the birth and subsequent death of the French New Wave approximately paralleled The Sixties in duration. Jean Eustache’s masterful film The Mother and the Whore (1973) can be thought of as a kind of final retrospective on that great era – or as the nail in its coffin.

Jean Eustache, born in 1938 in Pessac, France, is certainly not the best known French director of his generation, partly because he was ill-inclined to work within the conventional time constraints implied by the phrase “feature length.” The Mother and the Whore, his best known work by far, is a somewhat prohibitive 225 minutes long. He made just a dozen films before his death by suicide in 1981 at age forty-three. Bad Company (1963) (“Les Mauvaises frequentations”) was just 42-minutes long; Santa Claus Has Blue Eyes (1966) was a 47 minute autobiographical piece; The Pig (1970) (“Le Cochon”) was a 50-minute documentary about the slaughter of a pig; A Dirty Story (1977) (“Une sale histoire”) was a salacious short about a peep hole in a ladies room with a running time of 50 minutes; Les Photos d’Alix (1980) was an experimental 15-minute short; and his final film, Les Jardin des délices de Jérôme Bosch (1980) was 34-minutes long. Only My Little Loves (1975) (“Mes petites amoureuses”) comes reasonably close to standard film length at 123 minutes. Moreover, very few of Eustache’s works are available in North America. It is easy to assume, therefore, that Eustache was a second-rate talent who somehow managed to score big once with The Mother and the Whore, but some experts more broadly familiar with his oeuvre hold him in much higher esteem, arguing that he was a major talent whose premature death was a loss to cinema very nearly on a par with the early deaths of Jean Vigo and Max Ophüls. This film is my only personal experience with Eustache’s work to date, but I am left feeling that his talent was indeed sublime.

Many older critics group Eustache with the auteurs of the French New Wave, including Godard, Truffaut, and Rohmer. One reason for doing so is a similarity in experimental film technique. The Mother and the Whore uses a pseudo-documentary approach that is reminiscent of Godard’s tactic in Masculine-Feminine (1966). Godard actually donated leftover film stock from that particular film to Eustache for this project. The other reason to associate Eustache with the New Wave is that two of the stars of The Mother and the Whore had histories of association with the New Wave. Jean-Pierre Léaud began his film career as a mere boy and as Truffaut’s alter ego in that director’s autobiographical film The 400 Blows. Viewers of the day then watched Léaud grow up, in effect, in such films as Alphaville (1965), Masculine-Feminine (1966), Weekend (1967), Stolen Kisses (1968), Two English Girls (1971), Last Tango in Paris (1972), and Day for Night (1973). Most of Léaud’s roles in various films can be easily visualized as all of the same piece. Bernadette Lafont was also something of a New Wave brat, having appeared in arguably the first New Wave film, Le Beau Serge (1958). Some younger critics, however, view Eustache as more akin to Maurice Pialat (e.g., A Nos Amours) and what might be called the “touchy-feely” school linked to the “sensitivity-training groups” that were all the rage in the late sixties and early seventies.

The Story: The film’s protagonist is Alexandre (Jean-Pierre Léaud), a boy-man in his mid-to-late twenties, living in Paris in the early 1970’s. Alexander is something of a dandy and pseudo-intellectual. He has no job, appears to have no interest in finding one, and lives off his live-in lover, Marie (Bernadette Lafont), who is in her mid-thirties. He frequents the Parisian coffee houses, such as Deux Magots and the Flores, located along the Seine, carrying a copy of Marcel Proust’s The Captive, mainly for effect, since he’s never seen actually reading it. Alexandre is a self-absorbed charmer who prattles incessantly, spouting half-baked philosophy and whimsical observations. To his credit, he has a lively curiosity and interest in all that he observes, but makes no effort to integrate any of his ideas into a coherent viewpoint or approach to living. He is a witty conversationalist who entertains while saying nothing of real consequence.

The relationship between Alexandre and Marie is one of those modern “understandings” that were so prevalent in that time period, especially in Paris. They live together, sleep together, “love” one another, but each is “free” to have external relationships. Many reviewers of this film don’t understand that when couples agree to an “open” relationship without exclusivity, that doesn’t necessarily mean that neither will feel jealousy in relation to the other’s romantic activities. They are simply agreeing that each can have other relationships despite whatever jealousy ensues. They’re agreeing to place the value of freedom above the pain of jealousy. Both Alexandre and Marie experience jealousy about the other’s external relationships, but neither cites it as a reason to split up. Marie, who owns a boutique, is both a lover and a caretaker for Alexandre – both his “mother” and his “whore” in the dichotomy of the film’s title. Marie is a dark-haired, attractive woman, once married but now divorced.

Alexandre borrows a neighbor’s car for a trip to the Sorbonne in order to track down and confront a former girlfriend, Gilberte (Isabelle Weingarten). He wants to marry her and is full of conviction that she must still be in love with him. Despite his best confessional soliloquy, she holds him at arm’s length without denying that she loves him, but finally informs him that she has just agreed to marry another man. Alexandre is crushed. (Later in the film, we learn that Alexandre and Gilberte often fought. She had become pregnant with his child and he had responded to the pregnancy by walking out on her in anger. When he had later thought better of it and looked for her, she was nowhere to be found. She opted for an abortion and the man she has agreed to marry is either the abortionist or someone who helped her get the abortion.)

In his disappointment, Alexandre passes by one of the coffee houses and spots an attractive girl sitting alone, Veronika (Francoise Lebrun). He asks for and obtains her phone number and later calls her for a date. She stands him up once but they later connect on a second try. Veronika is a blond, blue-eyed beauty with a pretty face, soft neck and shoulders, and a lovely figure. She listens in rapt attention to Alexandre’s expository serenades consisting mainly of narcissistic circumlocution. For her part, Veronika mainly wants to jump his bones. Veronika, a nurse, loves sex and is more than commonly open in admitting it – for a women. She acknowledges sleeping with many men with whom she often has no more than casual relationships. Having tired of the interns, Veronika picks up men in bars and particularly enjoys exotic foreign lovers, such as “Jews and Arabs.” “I’m often in love,” she says. “I get involved with people quickly, and forget quickly. People don’t matter. I love someone a month, two, three months, and that’s it. When it’s good, it’s good. Then, it’s over.” Veronika considers herself a whore, in her own choice of words.

Over the course of the next few weeks, the relationship between Alexandre and Veronika burns hot and cold. Marie is so sensitive to Alexandre’s moods and whims and, even, the smell of another woman’s perfume on his clothes that there is really no question of cheating. Alexandre hides very little of his relationship with Veronika from Marie, despite Marie’s jealousy about it. When Marie must take a purchasing trip to another city, Alexandre and Veronika sleep together in Marie’s apartment. Between romps in the sack, he chatters incessantly (“a maximum amount of nonsense in a minimum amount of time,” in Veronika’s words) while she occasionally reveals the depths of her soul. She finds herself falling in love with Alexandre and reveals it with this song:

Just simply like a rose that you pick one day without a reason.
You have taken my somber heart by passing in front of my house.
My heart is an autumn flower. Without knowing why or how you have taken it,
I just simply give it to you.

When Marie returns, she immediately recognizes that Alexandre has been spending his nights there with Veronika. The two women, Veronika and Marie, in love with the same man, make some half-hearted stabs at an arrangement that will be suitable for all. On more than one occasion, Alexandre ends up in the sack with both of the two women who love him but is at a loss as to how to deal with it. Veronika is typically intoxicated and Marie in distress. On one of the occasions, Alexandre mounts Veronika and when Marie tries to “join in,” Veronika pushes her hand away. Marie responds by running into the bathroom and swallowing a container of sleeping pills. Alexandre has to force her to throw them up.

In one especially powerful scene, Veronika expounds on her ambivalence over the mother/whore dichotomy. She rejects the social admonition against women openly enjoying sex but also feels its sting. She says, “For me, there are no whores. Why put so much importance on these fuck stories?” Later, though she reveals that she herself is dissatisfied with the emptiness of love based mainly on physical passion: “I’ve been fucked like a whore. But you know, I think some day a man will come along and will love me, and will make me a baby, out of love. Love is nothing unless you want to make a baby together.” She has internalized part of society’s favorite message about sex and love.

Veronika feels that she has lost out to Marie and heads home in despair, though asking Alexandre to see her home. Marie, on the other hand, senses that she has lost Alexandre to Veronika and, despairing, puts on an Edith Piaf song that begins, “The lovers of Paris lie down with my song.” Veronika refuses Alexandre’s request to come to her room but informs him that she is pregnant with his child. Alexandre runs off in anger as Veronika heads to her room. Then, recalling how he had missed his opportunity with Gilberte, Alexandre runs back to Veronika’s room and lets himself in. He pleads with Veronika to marry him. Her response, as she is about to throw up from intoxication, magnificently captures all of the difference between the passionate, romantic love of carefree youth and the love that is necessary to marriage and childrearing: “If you want to marry me, be useful: get the basin.” Alexandre collapses on the floor, suddenly realizing that his old life is over and a new one must begin.

Themes: This film raises a whole plethora of themes that pretty much cover the range of relationship issues that exist between men and women. What makes us love one another? What is love and what merely passes for love? Is sexual freedom a viable societal alternative? What is it that men need from women?

I’m not especially narrow-minded about what love should be. It depends, in part, on what purpose that love is to serve. The dichotomy that is often presented between meaningless sexual encounters versus committed, monogamous relationships is a simplistic one, in my opinion. If those were the only two choices, there would be no choice. Sex without genuine feelings between the individuals doesn’t hold a candle to genuine love relationships. I was a young adult during the time period in which The Mother and the Whore was made. I ran with a crowd that was very much into experimental relationships – open marriages, group marriages, communities, and the like. The worthy choices, as we saw it in those days, did not include meaningless sex. The main choice was between possessive, exclusivity on the one hand and openness to a multiplicity of relationships on the other hand. We didn’t “cheat” on our spouses; the mutual agreement for some “couples” was “permission” to be involved romantically with others.

I believe that kind of open relationship can work for young adults if and only if long-term stability is not a priority and (a related issue) children are not involved. Open relationships almost always culminate in one or the other member of the couple finding someone with whom they would rather live and spend their time. That is, of course, what happened in the case of Alexandre and Marie’s relationship. In romantic relationships, freedom and stability are opposing forces. The more you have of one, the less you have of the other. The relationship experiments undertaken by Alexandre, Veronika, and Marie respectively each pretty much ended in abject failure.

The Mother and the Whore presents a world in which romantic liaisons and sex are the most important elements in life. When I was that age, those were indeed the most important issues for me and most of my friends. I imagine that it’s just as true today as it was then. The priority was not on “scoring” or “getting laid.” We viewed one another as analogous to works of art. Why should one limit oneself to enjoying Beethoven when there’s also Prokofiev? Why content oneself with only Renoir when there's also Van Gogh? Intimacy was a target because intimacy (including both sexual and emotional intimacy) was one of the best avenues for genuinely appreciating another person’s being. There is nothing cheap or tawdry about that kind of objective; it just isn’t consistent with a high likelihood of keeping one primary relationship intact. Commitment to one relationship requires foregoing some other potential ones, even though those other relationships could be rewarding and beautiful.

In a recent review (Gertrud), I discussed the complexity of the concept we call “love.” I suggested that it can include three different elements in varying degrees: (a) knowing the person; (b) cherishing the person; and (c) caring for the person. It is really only the third of those elements that necessitates exclusivity. You can know intimately and learn to cherish more than one lover at a time, but caring for a person’s needs requires a long-term commitment and requires a degree of exclusivity. The caring component is also the additional necessity that allows for “nest-building” and the other provisions for childcare. This is the point that is captured in Veronica’s final statement, “If you want to marry me, be useful: get the basin.”

The name of this film derives from the old (somewhat over simplified) idea that what men want from women are two basic things: nurturance and hot sex. The nurturing female is seen as a “mother” figure while the gals who provide the hot sex are the “whores” in this dichotomy. To some extent, men are resistant to deriving both benefits from the same woman because that activates Oedipal conflicts. Some men will date women based primarily on sexual appeal but will then marry a woman somewhat like their own mother, assuming that the mother was nurturing. Later in the marriage, that man may go looking for a young sex object to reaffirm his declining masculinity. Usually by then, the woman he married is fully entrenched into the “mother” image.

Will Alexandre make a decent husband for Veronika and father to their child? Your guess is as good as mine. Some self-centered, narcissistic young men grow up to become pillars of their community; other never grow up. She’s basically shooting craps in settling on Alexandre. Consider what lies ahead for him: job hunting, holding down a nine-to-five, changing diapers, washing dishes, etc. He’s got a long way to go to become a functional life partner.

The issues raised by this film may seem, at first, to be highly specific to the Parisian setting and the time period that the film depicts. Certainly Parisian culture has always tolerated flirting, cheating, and affairs more than the average locale around the world. One could also argue that the kind of pseudo-sophisticated verbal diarrhea that Alexandre spews forth continuously is distinctly French and Parisian as well. Nevertheless, the deeper themes are universal in nature. Young men and women continue to struggle with the meaning of love and what is required to sustain it.

Production Values: Eustache uses a documentary style seemingly to record events as they actually transpired. He referred to the film as “the description of a normal course of events without the shortcuts of dramatization.” Supposedly, all of Alexandre’s dialog (almost monolog at times) apparently faithfully reproduces words actually spoken in real life by Eustache. Francoise Lebrun was a former girlfriend of Eustache and he stated that he wrote the film expressly for her and for Léaud. He added that if they had not agreed to the roles, the script would never have been written. While it has the feel of reality and authenticity, the film was, in fact, very rigorously structured and required three months of editing. Alexandre serves as a kind of implicit narrator in the film since almost nothing is revealed to viewers that Alexandre himself is not experiencing.

Eustache builds in many references to films and filmmaking such as when Alexandre asserts that films can teach you many things about life. There’s also a cute reference to Léaud’s earlier role in Eustache’s Santa Claus Has Blue Eyes when Alexandre jokes about having once dressed up like Santa Claus. Then, there’s a reference to Alexandre being attracted to girls who have been in films of Robert Bresson – which was the case for the actress who played Gilbert, Isabelle Weingarten.

The performances in this film are outstanding. Francoise Lebrun, who played Veronika, had no prior acting experience and just a three-year career in all, but she more than matches her more experienced co-stars. She is sexy is a substantial way, sensuous, and subtly intense. Jean-Pierre Léaud has the toughest part by far and manages it effortlessly. I listed some of his main credits above in the “Historical Background” section. Bernadette Lafont’s part encompassed a wide range of emotions, which she portrayed convincingly. I also liked Isabelle Weingarten and Jacques Renard in the relatively minor roles of Gilberte and Alexandre’s Friend respectively. Weingarten’s other credits include Four Nights of a Dreamer (1971) and The State of Things (1982).

Bottom-Line: This film works as well today as when it was fresh out of the film can in 1973 because love forever remains a puzzle. Times may have changed and there may be less overt experimentation in relationships today than in 1973, but the eternal dance never ceases. Young men and women, heterosexual and homosexual alike, are as confused today about what they want from one another as they ever were. This is a magnificent, timeless film that illuminates fundamental meanings of being male, being female, and being in love. No doubt 3.5 hours sounds like a lot to invest in a film with little plot or action, but if you care about human relationships, you will be fully absorbed in this film like few others.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from France:

Alphaville
Amélie
The Battle of Algiers
La Belle et la Bête
Bob le Flambeur
Le Boucher
Boudu Saved from Drowning
A Bout de Souffle
La Cage aux Folles
Céline and Julie Go Boating
La Cérémonie
La Chèvre
Children of Paradise
Cléo from 5 to 7
Un Coeur en Hiver
Contempt
Cyrano de Bergerac
Delicatessen
The Dinner Game
Diva
The Earrings of Madame de . . .
Entre Nous
Eyes Without a Face
La Femme Nikita
Forbidden Games
French Cancan
Grand Illusion
Harvest
Hate
The Horseman on the Roof
Jean de Florette/Manon
The King of Hearts
Last Year at Marienbad
Life and Nothing But
Madame Rosa
A Man Escaped
Le Million
Monsieur Hire
La Nuit de Varennes
Pépé le Moko
Peppermint Soda
Playtime
Providence
Rififi
La Ronde
Round Midnight
The Rules of the Game
Le Samourai
Summer
A Sunday in the Country
The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe
Three Colors
Umbrellas of Cherbourg
Vagabond
Wages of Fear

Recommended:
Yes

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