by Douglas Messerli
Jacques Demy (screenwriter
and director) La Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels) / 1963,
USA 1964
That theme is made
immediately clear from the first scene of the film, when the hard-working Jean
Fournier (Mann), admitting his exhaustion, is offered a ride home with his
colleague Caron (Paul Guers) in Caron’s new car. Fournier is surprised since he
knows that Caron makes a salary near his own, and he can hardly make ends meet,
let alone purchase a new car.
The
invitation to ride, made as the two handsome men stand side by side at the
office, already seems somewhat suspicious, with mild homoerotic undertones, but
it leads to something overt when, after admitting that he is a regular gambler
at a nearby casino, Caron insists that Fournier accompany him to the casino on
his next visit, suggesting that he is sure his friend will “bring him
luck.”
Fournier,
an obedient worker and good son all his life, demurs, but nonetheless shows up
for the trip. Demy and his brilliant cameraman, Jean Rabier, linger over the
details of how one gets entry to the casino. One first must join by paying a
small fee and then purchase a number of chips or plaques before entry—a
pattern very similar, in fact, in some of the raunchiest gay clubs,
particularly those with open sex and porn of the 1970s and 1980s, where one had
to join the “club” and buy a certain quantity of quarters before proceeding in
to “sin.”
Of course,
the large white marble casinos outside Paris and later in the south of France,
are anything but raunchy, decorated lavishly like vast fin de
siècle hothouses. But, in fact, Fournier is being
seduced by Caron, if not literally in the sexual sense—although that is very
subtly suggested—at least being seduced into the joys (later described as being
better than a sexual rush) of gambling. And, amazingly, the beautiful and
innocent Fournier is “lucky” with Caron, as both men win more
money than they might have received with weeks of pay in their jobs. Caron
follows that episode up by demanding that Fournier join him a week later in
Nice and Monte Carlo.
I
do not want to make too much out of these early episodes. There is no overt
homosexuality in these scenes; and even if was implied, it may be that Demy,
rumored to have been a highly closeted man in those days (while shooting this
film he married director Agnès Varda; he died of AIDS in 1990, as did his then
male sexual partner), did not even realize that he had already acted out the
second part of the film in these first scenes. Nonetheless, Fournier, symbolically,
loses his virginity in these scenes, and what he has already experienced
determines that he will not follow family tradition by visiting his uncle
during vacation, but, as we might describe it, “go wild,” his strict
clock-fixing father even throwing him out of the house for his insubordination.
The
two men have already observed the Moreau character, Jacqueline
"Jackie" Demaistre in that first casino as she is being roughly
escorted out the door and told never to return for her behavior after losing.
And we can already perceive that Fournier—who, after all, is heterosexual— is
intrigued by the beautiful blonde dressed in a white Pierre Cardin suit.
In
Nice, after checking into an inexpensive hotel, Fournier is once again asked to
pay ahead for his “sinning,” this time by the desk clerk who, when she hears
he’s on the way to the casino, demands he pay up ahead so that if he loses he
will not attempt to sneak out. Again, he must join the casino before buying
chits.
Their
joyous and luminous walk along the beach and later dinner, brings them
together through a long conversation in which Jackie reveals she has abandoned
her husband, son, and wealthy lifestyle to take such chances, the excitement
being worth everything she has given up. If she seems completely assured in her
compulsion, we soon discover that her comments often represent a brave front
which hide her real fears and loneliness.
Being
still a man of some rationality, Fournier has saved a little money for his
return home, but soon discovers that Jackie, having stolen some of it, has
returned to the casino. By the time he reaches her, she has lost nearly all of
it again. When she allows a wealthy gambler to ask her out for a drink,
offering her, in turn, a few free plaques, Fournier—now
consumed with jealousy—dares to bet his last plaques, which regains her
attention as she joins him in his selected numbers. Their luck returns, and
this time they win millions.
Jackie
now insists they move on to the far plusher Monte Carlo casino, where they will
need different attire, a stylish dress for her and a tuxedo for him. She forces
him to buy a car, while she pays for the most expensive hotel in Monte Carlo.
For one brief evening they live a high life which Fournier has not
only never experienced, but has never even imagined except in American
novels and movies, hinting at such works as Hitchcock’s To Catch a
Thief. Yet their relationship remains rocky, simply because of her reckless
behavior. And, although she declares that she doesn’t care at all about money,
it is clear that her behavior has destroyed everyone previously in her life.
And it is equally clear that she will end up by destroying him as well.
Now without
anything even to live on—Fournier has been forced even to sell the car—after
attempting to reach Caron to ask for help, he finally must wire his father with
apologies, asking for money to return home like a prodigal son. But almost
before he can share the news with Jackie, she, having sold her watch is again
off to gamble.
This
time he demands that she come away with him, but she refuses, losing her last
plaque. As she leaves the casino, Fournier stays on to punish her (and perhaps
himself), now willing to even gamble away his father’s offering; but Jackie
quickly returns to stop him, silently admitting that love is perhaps better
than roulette—or, at least, is one and the same.
As
the two walk away in the glorious white of the Monte Carlo sunset, we do not
for a moment truly believe that Jackie will be able to suddenly cure her deep
addiction, or that Fournier will truly be able to hold her; surely the couple,
with his small pay, will not be able even to afford a house in which to live a
penurious life. And the level-headed Fournier, having tasted such lavish
life-styles, will be unable to settle for the hard-laboring life of his
father’s ilk. Accordingly, even with the joyful, closing music of Michel
Legrand we cannot see this as a “happy ever after”-ending. Having been so
utterly seduced by both man and woman, Fournier will surely end up like his
father’s friend—formerly a wealthy industrialist, but now a night watchman—penniless
and lonely, or, at the very least, will return to the everyday humdrum of
office life with Caron.
Yet,
for the moment, it is hard to resist Demy’s beautifully-wrapped promise.
Los Angeles, August 27,
2016
Reprinted from World
Cinema Review (August 2016).
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