The Earrings of Madame de... (Max Ophüls, 1953)

The first thing I noticed about The Eaarings is that Ophüls displays a moral sophistication and urbanity that far outstrips most of the American cinema of the time. This struck me as a direct outgrowth of the Renoir tradition, the sense that the accurate depiction of complex human relations demands at least a temporary bracketing of judgment. As my first exposure to Ophüls, this film appears to be an ur-text of French / European "adult" filmmaking, the sort that's long been a point of pride among aficionados and riding crop with which to lightly spank Hollywood's smug middle-class puritanism.

Madame (Danielle Darrieux) is presented as a fickle, even shallow woman, but Ophüls never condemns her for romantic delusion and, above all, sexual desire. As we watch the sad scenario unfold, one gets the sense that while there is undoubtedly a sex-based double standard, it wasn't her affair that violated upper-class norms so much as falling in love with Donati (Vittorio De Sica, quite the actor). Yes, Madame's marriage to the General (Charles Boyer) is little more than an amicable partnership. But in sending his mistress (Lia De Leo) away to Constantinople, he demonstrates his priorities, and the appearance of honor that must be maintained.

Although the faithless marriage may be the oldest story in the world, I couldn't help thinking that The Earrings may have directly influenced Dreyer's Gertrud. Like that film, Ophüls' opulent production focuses on feminine idealism, the struggle of a woman to live her life according to her own precepts. The major difference, of course, is that the General's wounded pride drives Madame's downfall as much as her own infidelity. This is largely about social mores, despite the General's genuine heartbreak. Gertrud contains similar elements, but is much more metaphysical. It's about the very idea of perfect happiness, and the risks involved in pursuing it.

Considering The Earrings' plotting is centered on an actual object (well, two), we can clearly see that Ophüls is employing a structural gimmick. But this is handled with deft irony. We are not supposed to be surprised at the unlikelihood of the earrings traveling through such a closed circuit. The apparent movement of the jewels among the principals is supposed to strike us as odd, because it exemplifies the (metaphorically) incestuous nature of this upper-class realm. Just as the General's continual encounters with Donati in public places seems oddly convenient, it and the earrings actually point to Madame's recklessness, her failure to understand how small her world actually is. (We can again compare this with the General's paramour Lola, who is clearly from a different demimonde.)

I haven't said anything about Ophüls' formal methods, but then again, what is there that hasn't been said already? Although this kind of expansive production is miles away from the original concept of the camera-stylo, Ophüls' cinematography is virtually calligraphic. Scenes continually swirl around an anchor point -- either Madame or the earrings themselves, mostly -- describing a world in motion, time and space unfolding before us. This may be an example of what Deleuze called "the encompasser," a kind of broadly based filmic worldbuilding. But what's most notable about Ophüls' method is that, for all its virtuosity, it's incredibly subtle. One has to readjust one's vision in order to observe this dramatic world-in-the-round, much like we can consciously shift our attention between figure and ground in a painting.

So far, I really dig this guy.