wild child
by Douglas Messerli
Pascal Bonitzer, Suzanne Schiffman,
and Jacques Rivette (screenplay, based on one chapter from the novel by Emily
Brontë), Jacques Rivette (director) Hurlevent
(Wuthering Heights) / 1985
Although the servant, even in the original novel, is an important
figure, one who not only observes and judges those her around, but has a role
in their behavior, in Rivette she becomes, perhaps the central figure, a kind
of mother and father, and for Guillaume, a hostage-wife. Hélène (earthily
portrayed by Sandra Montaigu) is the one person to whom all the others can turn
for help, and it is because those needs are so varied that she sometimes
appears to further harm those around rather than placate them. Yet, she is the
only one who can calm them, and who, at times, holds them together. Whatever
little civilized behavior exists on the farm is established by her tireless
actions, cooking, cleaning, listening, loving. There is hardly a moment in the
film when she is not busy, while the teenagers run into nature and Guillaume
falls into a drunken stupor each night.
That Catherine, in nearly all the versions of Brontë’s tale, should be
seduced by the Lindon world, is not surprising. Even if she has lived a wild
life, refusing even to eat at the table in Rivette’s movie, she recognizes in
the three weeks while in their care that the elegant mansion and clothes of
Isabelle (Alice de Poncheville) and Olivier (Olivier Torres) represent a better
life. She returns to her rustic abode with a new dress, and for the first time
peers at herself in the mirror, recognizing that she is now a woman rather than
a tom-boy ruff housing with her adopted brother. They may still love one
another, may even, as she claims, be
one another, but she cannot resist the outward appearance and manners of the
Lindons.
By choosing actors who are near the actual ages of the novel’s
characters, Rivette helps us to more clearly comprehend the mistakes made by
all the young figures of the work. Catherine cannot see through the surfaces of
the new world she has encountered, while Roch cannot comprehend the pubescent
changes in her that have taken place; unlike Brontë’s Heathcliff, who runs,
returns, hesitates, and leaves once more, Rivette’s Roch escapes both the
imprisonment of Guillaume and the rejection by Catherine simultaneously, never
to truly return. For when he does return, he is no longer simply a wild
child—using the name of one of Truffaut’s most notable films, L’Enfant sauvage, is intentional here;
Rivette notes that his Hurlevent was
difficult to make, in part, because they while shooting they were awaiting the
news of Truffaut’s death—but has been transformed himself into a kind of
vengeful brute. He too is now well-groomed and dressed, enough so that he
attracts the attention of the now lonely Isabelle. And Catherine may be still
attracted to him, particularly since it is clear in Rivette’s version that
Olivier and Catherine do not have a serious sexual relationship; but she too
has been domesticated, and will not even think of leaving Olivier, forbidding
Isabelle to see Roch.
It may be, in part, jealousy that leads Catherine to insist that her
sister-in-law stay away from Roch; but she is also perceptive in that Roch is
now a cruel manipulator who does not only destroy his brother Guillaume, but
will brutalize and rape Catherine’s sister-in-law out of revenge. In his new
mien he has become like the Lindon’s, something beautiful on the outside, but
rotten within.
Between the extremes, once more, Catherine is trapped, caught up in a
rivalry that does really concern itself with whom she truly is. Perhaps by
setting his Hurlevent in the 1930s,
Rivette is hinting at the dark whirling winds rising throughout Europe which
would destroy nearly anything that truly was good. Rivette’s Roch has so
changed, in fact, that he cannot actually return to Catherine’s bedside, the
way Hearthcliff does. Rivette calls him in up in Catherine’s dying imagination
in a dream, and at the sight of him, she dies. Roch is now part of the brewing
storm, just as, in their class and social bigotries, is Olivier, the two women
in their lives having been destroyed.
In an interview with Rivette, film writer Valérie Hazette decried the
fact that the director did not continue with the later sections of the novel.
To do so, however, would have robbed him of his theme. Roch is already dead
when Catherine dies in Rivette’s telling. No longer a “wild child,” he is now
an uncontrollable beast for whom not even her memory can bring redemption.
Los Angeles, March 9, 2014
Reprinted from International Cinema Review (March 2014).
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