The Sacred Heart of ‘Amélie’

Whether or not it was the intent of director Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Amélie can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure in a modern tragedy. … Amélie’s love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. … Amélie is altruistic and doesn’t hesitate to help other people.

Amelie

This guest post is written by Giselle Defares.

The idea of love, chance and destiny – the cause and effect relationship – are themes that frequently occur in our cinematic history. For most of us, love is the strongest emotion that we know, an emotion that can entail powerful forces. In Amélie, love and happiness are hidden in the mundane things of life. Or in the case of Amélie, it’s putting the tip of her spoon on the caramelized layer of sugar on her crème brûlée.

“To ask one of these kinds of newspapers in Paris to love Amélie is like asking the Pope to put on a condom. They hate these kinds of movies.” This quote from the French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet, reflects the controversy, at that time, surrounding Amélie. This extravagant romantic film was loved around the world except within the French film establishment. The interview took place in May 2001 and it appears Jeunet’s comments possessed a kernel of truth because the Cannes Film Festival refused to put Amélie in the official selection.

The self-taught director Jeunet is known for his astonishing visuals – see also his specific mise-en-scène, heavy use of color, CGI and voice-over narration. He took a light-hearted approach with Amélie instead of the inaccessible and often gloomy atmosphere of his earlier films such as Delicatessen and The City of Lost Children. It starts with the opening scene where you’re bombarded with trivia and funny facts. Jeunet’s style is reminiscent of the prologue of Paul T. Anderson’s Magnolia or Tom Twykers’ Run Lola Run. Amélie became a worldwide box office success and also earned five Oscar nominations.

Amelie

Amélie centers around Amélie Poulain (Audrey Tautou), a sensitive young woman, who after the death of her mother has withdrawn into her own fragile world, where the smallest pleasures of life are her priority. She works as a waitress in a corner bistro, until the day that Princess Diana dies in a car crash and everything changes. The shock of the news causes Amélie to drop a bottle cap, which unlocks a stone in the wall of her apartment, which leads her to discover a very old box in which a young boy used to hoard his treasures. Amélie tracks the boy – now an older man – down, and in returning his old, rusty box, Amélie finds her reason to live. She will make people happy in extraordinary ways.

Most of the scenes are shown in chronological order but there are several smaller storylines and flashbacks interwoven. Jeunet has an interesting way of playing with dialogue in the film. Amélie often loses the ability to properly communicate in important moments. The overarching role of the omniscient narrator — the key link between various scenes and sequences — becomes more important. The narrator continuously informs the viewer of Amélie’s personal thoughts and feelings.

Whether or not it was the intent of Jeunet, Amélie can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure in a modern tragedy. In Bible and Cinema: Fifty Key Films, Adele Reinhartz gives two basic criteria that a movie character must meet in order to be seen as a Christ figure:

“That there be some direct and specific resemblance to Christ (though a full replication in every detail is not essential); and that the fundamental message associated with the possible Christ-figure has to be consistent with the life and work of Christ, and not contrary to his message about liberation and love.”

Amélie’s love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. A representation of this point can be seen when she appears in several scenes in a Zorro costume. She disguises herself in order to help the people in her community. This is evident when she intervenes in the bullying of Lucien, who is monoplegic, as well as helping a blind man crossing the street. In that sense, Amélie is altruistic and doesn’t hesitate to help other people.

Amelie_Zorro

Several religious references occur in the dialogue. Dominique Bretodeau, the man who’s reunited with his rusty box of childhood treasures, calls Amélie an “angel” and states that she must be his “guardian angel.” Throughout the film, Amélie’s actions are referred to as a miracle. It’s important to note that her actions often leave the person confused as if an “outside or divine force” has intervened in their lives.

The turning point in the film is the sequence where Amélie views a memorial broadcast of her own death on television where she’s shown as a nun, washing the feet of the blind man, next to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. This is similar to the moment that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples – an act of love and humility. The narrator later calls her in that moment the “Madonna of the unloved.”

The memorial scene functions as a symbolic death, since Amélie is still alive afterwards. She was afraid that her life had no more meaning after she accomplished everything she wanted. The narrator then states, “As she went, she felt a stab of regret for letting her father die without trying to give his stifled life the breath of air she had given to so many others.” Thus, she’s revived again knowing that her task is far from fulfilled, and that others closest to her, such as her father, require help as well. This leads to the moment where Amélie visits her father’s house and takes his garden gnome, who she uses for her good deed towards him.

Amelie

Aforementioned, color plays an important role in the visual style of Jeunet and that’s certainly noticeable throughout the film. Jeunet manipulated and used various grading of color. The saturated color palette of the film – red, green and yellow are dominant – reflects the happy feelings of Amélie. Often colors clash when Jeunet chose sepia tones and black and white, which signals intrusion in the lives of the characters. The use of CGI is most noticeable when it comes to Amélie’s imagination – see the visualization of her loneliness via an animated crocodile or Amélie’s “sacred heart.”

In Jeunet’s portrayal of Amélie’s “sacred heart,” a clear parallel exists with Christian iconography. The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus is a Catholic icon which represents the love of Jesus Christ. It’s often portrayed as a human heart surrounded by flames. Amélie’s heart is displayed in a bright yellow and orange glow which clearly draws on the connotation of the sacred heart of Jesus Christ. The cinematography in this particular scene is interesting since Jeunet breaks a shot – a reverse shot between Amélie and her crush, in order to show the heart of Amélie but resumes afterwards. Thus his cinematography breaks with what you would expect and leads the viewer’s gaze towards the heart.

Tautou is phenomenal in her role as Amélie and she deservedly received several award nominations (including a BAFTA Award and César Award) for her portrayal. She truly carries the film and has great chemistry with all the other characters. Admittedly, the storyline is quite thin and some characters feel like cardboard cutouts, but Tautou saves the film with her doe-eyed likeableness.

Initially it seems that Amélie is content in her role as anonymous benefactor, whilst secretly crushing on the shy Nino – who collects photos from automated photo booths people don’t want; as you do. Until, an old neighbor tells her: “You don’t have bones of glass. You can take life’s knocks. If you let this chance pass, eventually, your heart will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton.” The call to embrace life to its fullest is original, playful and engagingly filmed by Jeunet. A charming film with lots of heart, even the most stoic viewer would succumb to the magic of Amélie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrlQR_KH_nw


Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here http://zilvertong.tumblr.com/ or follow her on twitter at @zilvertong.

The Sublime Sadism in ‘Breaking the Waves’

Her role as sexual martyr is better suitable for Bess than the role that is expected of her: the patriarchal role of the woman. The religious community in which Bess is brought up is stifling and oppressive, in which male domination prevails in both the personal and public life of the community (the household and the entire commune is dominated by the elderly male church leaders).

Bess talks to God
Bess talks to God

 


This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.


The relationship between faith and love, the religious experience that is love, suffering and sacrifice, are themes that frequently recur in our pop culture. For some, love can be seen as the most powerful emotion we know, an emotion that can entail spiritual forces. In Breaking The Waves love and faith appear, despite the spiritual connotations, as matters proposed in a very earthly and physical manner. However, the age-old trope of the suffering woman who sacrifices herself so that the man triumphs is nothing new.

The Danish director Lars von Trier follows the beat of his own drum. Von Trier can be called many things: neurotic, shit stirrer and allegedly misogynist. In 2011 he was declared persona non grata after his ridiculous remarks in Cannes during a press conference for Melancholia: “I really wanted to be a Jew, and then I found out that I was really a Nazi… What can I say? I understand Hitler.” He took a “vow of silence” after this debacle. Not only did von Trier make various headlines in his career via his questionable, controversial statements, it’s also the result of the themes portrayed in his films. In most of his films the female characters are placed in violent and sexual situations. In an old interview with The Guardian, Von Trier said “Basically, I’m afraid of everything in life, except filmmaking.” Right.

Breaking the Waves centers round a strict Calvinist community in rural Scotland. Bess McNeill (Emily Watson) is a young woman who expresses her piety by cleaning the church. Here she holds various conversations with God. When Bess wants to marry Jan Nyman (Stellan Skarsgård), an outsider who works on the oil rigs, the church elderly are hesitant. Nevertheless, the first weeks of their marriage are successful. When Jan needs to get back to work at the rig, Bess becomes emotionally unhinged and begs God to bring him back. As a result of a fatal accident on the rig, Jan is brought back to the mainland. He is completely paralyzed, and his life is uncertain; both Bess and “God” blame themselves for Jan’s situation. When she asks God for help, he answers with the question: “Who do you want to save, yourself or Jan?” Bess then makes the fatal decision to save Jan.

Love
Love

 

Whether or not it was the intent of von Trier, Bess is frequently compared to the Christ figure in a modern tragedy. Her sacrifice was for a higher purpose and “not in vain.” In Bible and Cinema: Fifty Key Films, Adele Reinhartz gives two basic criteria that a movie character must meet in order to be seen as a Christ figure: “That there be some direct and specific resemblance to Christ and that the fundamental message associated with the possible Christ figure has to be consistent to the life and work of Christ, and contrary to his message about liberation and love.”

On the basis of these two criteria Bess can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure. Her love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. Bess commits herself entirely to sacrifice her being for this selfless love, even if it leads to death. However, this form of sacrifice is soon to be regarded as a specific element in her life. Bess is easily persuaded by Jan, because “God” commands her to fulfill his wishes. Jan’s requirements are so also God’s requirements. Bess is obedient and submissive to the male power, which forces her to place herself in unpleasant situations trying to save a man.

A representation of this point can be seen in the middle of the film when Bess prays directly to a hospitalized Jan. Bess exclaims, “I love you, Jan.” Jan answers, “I love you too, Bess. You are the love of my life.” Both Jan and God have the same voice, thereby Jan and God are put on the same pedestal. The masculine is the divine, the women must be submissive therein.

Bess and Jan
Bess and Jan

 

The female suffering in Breaking the Waves is deemed more important than the female existence. Her role as sexual martyr is better suitable for Bess than the role that is expected of her: the patriarchal role of the woman. The religious community in which Bess is brought up is stifling and oppressive, in which male domination prevails in both the personal and public life of the community (the household and the entire commune is dominated by the elderly male church leaders).

The position of the women in this patriarchal community is determined by the male counterparts. The imposed position of the wife doesn’t sit well with Bess; in the first chapter she goes against the grain by marrying Jan in the church, then she speaks in the church, which is forbidden for women. They also ask the women in the community that they remain calm and adhere to their men. Not the whimsical Bess: she beats Jan as he arrives late to their wedding, and is hysterical when he leaves her to work on the rig. This latter characteristic, hysteria, is considered as one of the “weakest” properties of a woman. Alyda Faber, a theologian, states in Redeeming Sexual Violence? A Feminist Reading of Breaking the Waves: “Von Trier creates the image of Bess as sexual martyr through a peculiar valorization of feminine abjection as madness, formlessness, malleability, hysteria. This common reiteration of femininity as weakness.”

Although Bess has more difficulty with the role of sexual martyr, she fulfills the role better than the imposed patriarchal role of a woman. Von Trier uses Bess as a sinner and as a martyr; archetypes that enable that Bess – from a feminist theological approach- is seen as a Mary Magdalene. Von Trier also literally refers to Mary Magdalene in Bess. This happens in the dialogue in which God speaks to Bess: “Mary Magdalene had sin, and she is my beloved.” Bess is caught between the two paradigms where Mary Magdalene was stuck as the virgin and the whore.

Her character begins as that of a virgin, which fits into the mold created by the church until she persists throughout the film and turns into a “whore.” It starts with her sexual relationship with her husband, where she learns to give her love of God over to Jan. Her faith and love into “the word” God has been replaced by the belief in carnal love. Bess at one point states: “You cannot love words. You cannot be in love with a word. You can love another human being.” Her faith for the greater good is stronger than the word of God; this faith in love has led her to sexual freedom–from virgin to whore. Despite Bess being often compared to Mary Magdalene and represented as a Christ figure she remains an ordinary woman who only has to offer her goodness.

Watson is phenomenal in her role as Bess and she deservedly received an Oscar nomination. She truly carries the film and has great chemistry with Skarsgård in the first chapters. Her suffering is stretched throughout the film causing pain and simultaneously pity for her character. Admittedly, the plot is very thin and at times feels illogical. The other characters feel like cardboard cutouts but the film is saved by Watson as the whimsical Bess.

Von Trier styled the film almost like a documentary while using the handheld camera work of cinematographer Robbie Müller. The images are grainy, gray and pale in color, and there’s almost no use of a musical score. At first, the angular camera work doesn’t seem to work with the emotional storyline nor the strict and rigid community in which it takes place. Only with the announcement of a new chapter in the film are images shown that almost resemble moving paintings in beautiful, vibrant colors. As if the gaze of God descends on rural Scotland.

Breaking the Waves is, in essence, just an good old fashioned melodrama. It’s captivating and moving, but there’s no room for false sentiment.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmcnddpruXM”]

 


Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.