becoming ghosts
by Douglas Messerli
Pascal Bonitzer, André Téchiné, and Jean
Gruault (screenplay), André Téchiné (director) Les Sœurs Brontë (The Brontë Sisters) / 1979
French director André Téchiné’s
1979 film, The Brontë Sisters,
focuses on the daily lives of the famed Brontës while basically ignoring their
literary contributions. Of the three featured sisters and one brother, Emily
(Isabelle Adjani), Charlotte (Marie-France Pisier), Anne (Isabelle Huppert),
Branwell (Pascal Greggory), Branwell’s art is commented on and actually shown.
The fiction and poetry of his own and his sisters is briefly mentioned, and, at
one point, Charlotte and Anne do
Yet,
I would think it might be safe to say that if a young viewer had never read the
original novels or seen the movie versions of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre,
or The Tenant of Wildfell
Hall, he might wonder what all the fuss is about.
These provincial daughters of a religious leader living on the moors, although
seeming basically intelligent and pretty, seem to lack the talents which might
allow them to easily survive within society. Although Anne finds a position
with a local gentrified family to educate their daughter, the others seem, as
Branwell argues, to need to get out and see the world.
Perhaps recognizing this fact, Charlotte convinces their moneyed aunt to
pay for her and Emily to travel to Brussels to study French which, hopefully,
will allow them to return to teach that language to locals.
The journey ends in a kind of disaster for both. Although Charlotte loves the school, secretly falling in love with the married and rather heartless Monsieur Héger (Xavier Depraz), Emily is terribly unhappy faced with the bourgeois young Belgian women who make fun of her plain and English manners.
She
prefers the moors, where, often dressed as a man (it allows me to walk faster
and more easily, she argues) she wanders, at times accompanied by Anne. Emily
likes the hardy and plain holly, while Anne prefers roses.
Their Brussels episode, however, is interrupted by the death of their Aunt Elizabeth (Alice Sapritch), which Emily appreciates as an opportunity to return home, while Charlotte, when they arrive too late to see their aunt before she dies, chafes at having had to return, rushing back to Belgium and the unresponsive Héger.
Perhaps it’s inevitable that the director of numerous gay-themed films
should, instead, focus on the male of the family, Branwell, an alcoholic and,
later, opium addict, upon whom his sisters
Indeed, we might at first suspect that Branwell is confused about his
sexuality, particularly given the immense effect that his sisters—two of whom,
not portrayed in this film, died while he was still a child—had upon him. Téchiné
even toys with this idea in presenting his relationship to the sculptor Leyland
(Jean Sorel), whom Branwell describes not only as a would-be mentor, but as a
man of great beauty and power. Clearly, the proud Leyland was also taken with Branwell, deigning to even visit the young artist later in Branwell’s life, when he
no longer had any talent and could offer the elder no intelligent company. Even
the biographers speak mutedly about his possible gender problems, although to
me it sounds like an issue that less concerns gender than it does his sexuality,
his attraction to the male sex, so missing from his life.
What
is clear is that Branwell is not that man; and seeing her mistress toy with her
brother as he falls for her wiles, Anne quits her job with the household,
Branwell being fired soon after. In one of his opiate fits, the Brontë brother
removes himself from his own portrait of his sisters. He has become a ghost.
It quickly becomes clear that Branwell prefers the manly laborers he
finds in his drinking buddies at the local inn. But even when Mrs. Robinson’s
monstrous husband dies, she will no longer allow Branwell to visit her for
having failed in his “heterosexual” commitments. Clearly, if he was homosexual, he lived neither in the right time nor place.
It is almost as if Branwell’s debauchery, resulting in his death from
excessive drinking soon after, that signals a downward spiral of the entire
family. Soon after, Emily is diagnosed with tuberculosis, refusing to receive medical
treatment and also dying. Anne, ill as well with tuberculosis, requests that
she see the ocean before she dies, Charlotte traveling with her to the water’s
edge, where Anne dies as well.
Only Charlotte—perhaps the most romantically inclined of them
all—survives, beginning a relationship with her father’s curate, Arthur
Nicholls, and traveling with him to London where she sits in the opera box of
British author William Thackeray (performed, in a brilliant moment of casting,
by French literary theorist and semiotician Roland Barthes).
In the end, if the director does not literally tell us about these four
siblings’ actual artistic contributions, he shows them, elliptically, through
their lives. We have enough of all their fictions presented—the romantic
hauntings of the moors, the harsh teachings of both religious and secular
leaders, the unhappy marriages of the husbands and wives who surrounded them,
the near-impossibility of lovers being able to sustain their relationships, and
the magical moments of imagination that allowed their fictional figures to
transcend their worlds, even while being destroyed by them—that we still get a strong
sense of these individuals’ literary oeuvres. If nothing else, we certainly
learn the context in which their wonderful tales were hatched. The harsh world
in which they lived killed them while also giving birth to their remarkable
writings which history would not forget.
Los Angeles, May 26, 2019
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (May 2019).
No comments:
Post a Comment