Review #1,257: 'Diary of a Country Priest' (1951)

Robert Bresson is known for his stark and stripped-down worlds, where actors were employed as mere 'models' would rather than conduits of expression. The script and story would be where the emotion would resonate, and this would create a rather cold, blank exterior, when in fact there would be great power, grace and humanity lurking beneath its icy surface. Diary of a Country Priest, Bresson's third feature, was the first time the French director would fully embrace this approach, going so far as hiring non-professional actors for the bulk of his cast. Claude Laydu, who plays the titular priest, gives a performance of such complexity that it is often cited as the greatest in the history of motion pictures. Scenes would be re-shot if Bresson felt his actors were, well, acting too much, and Laydu often looks like he's suppressing so much he's going to explode.

When you understand what Bresson's goal was with Diary of a Country Priest, Laydu's performance becomes almost transcendent. The unnamed priest, who arrives in his new parish of the small commune of Ambricourt at the beginning of the film, is a weak, sickly presence. He is young, but small, gaunt and gently-spoken. Suffering from an unknown stomach ailment, he gets by on a diet of bread, fruit and wine. Ambricourt's inhabitants are mainly made up of poor but tough peasants and farmers, whose lives are so gruelling that they have little time for God. His arrival is met with scorn and distrust, and their reaction triggers feelings of rejection in the young priest. Even the children laugh at him, and Mass is attended by a sole woman whose intentions are far from Christian. He confides in the Priest of Torcy (Adrien Borel), a respected, straight-talking man of the cloth, who mentors the bewildered young man on what is expected of him. "A priest should never be loved," he is told, but seems perplexed at the cruelty of the world around him, and the lack of love within it.

The film really centres around a conversation between Laydu and the Countess (Rachel Berendt), an ageing woman who has never gotten over the death of her son, and whose husband is openly having an affair with a younger woman. The result of this conversation has the village gossiping, and it is this that sparks a remarkable show of faith by the young priest. Bresson's bleak approach compliments these moments well, refusing to over-blow the priest's epiphany before he inevitably starts to wrestle with it, recording all of his thoughts in a small diary. Laydu's performance is masterful, and it was surprising to learn that he later developed a puppet show for children, a world away from his sullen presence here. Alongside Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc and Rossellini's Francesco, giullare di Dio, Diary of a Country Priest is a masterpiece about Catholicism made by an agnostic or atheist, using the Bible's teachings and the institution itself as a way to tell more humanistic story of human anguish and struggle.


Directed by: Robert Bresson
Starring: Claude Laydu, Jean Riveyre, Adrien Borel, Rachel Bérendt, Nicole Maurey
Country: France

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #484: 'Au Hasard Balthazar' (1966)

At the start of Robert Bresson's profoundly touching drama, the children who had been at the purchase of the young titular donkey, Balthazar, baptise the animal, which in essence renders him with a soul, and one which will encounter the cruelties and beauty of humanity. In this early life, the children, particularly Marie and Jacques (later playing as teenagers by Anne Wiazemsky - who later married Jean-Luc Godard - and Walter Green respectively), play with him lovingly, jostling in the hay. With monetary issues, Balthazar is taken into adult life, abused by masters who use his prowess to pull carts, whipping him regularly. He escapes, and goes back to that place of beauty, where the children had so adored him. Of course, they are grown, and Marie (the only one who actually lives at the farm) takes him back in, however, the farm is struggling, and this relationship is soon split.

As Balthazar is then moved from owner to owner, he is used to deliver bread, to again pull carts. He is saved at one point by a drunk, Arnold (Jean-Claude Guilbert), who is accused of murder - although this infraction is never elaborated on, and he is only accused several times by local teen-thug and thief, Gerard (Francois Lafarge). Balthazar also briefly becomes a star in a circus, making mathematical calculations using his hoof. Aside from the various moments of violence inflicted upon the poor animal, he is witness to the violence that the people he comes in contact with have over each other. Marie, ignoring the protestations of her fathers wishes to stay away from Gerard, she ignores him and continues a sexual relationship with the petty criminal, which inevitably leads to heartache.

Beautifully shot in black and white, the French rural countryside becomes a majestic, and yet horrific backdrop for the sins of humanity, and the innocence of an animal that is forced to do the bidding of the people. Bresson often frames Balthzar at the centre of the image, his large eyes portraying utter pathos - and we, the audience adore him. The final moments of the film are some of the most simple, yet moving moments in cinema history. Gerard, using the now old and work-tired Balthazar, steal him to carry contraband over the border. Fleeing the area due to gun fire from the border patrol, Balthazar escapes into a field where sheep are grazing. Having been shot he walks slowly and joins the flock, sitting, his eyes displaying something that resembles happiness - or at least a relief to be with other animals. The end, however, is also incredibly heartbreaking.


Directed by: Robert Bresson
Starring: Anne Wiazemsky, Walter Green, François Lafarge, Jean-Claude Guilbert
Country: France/Sweden

Rating: *****

Marc Ivamy

Review #22: 'A Man Escaped' (1956)

There have been many films down the years focusing on escaping from prison. Whether it be the wrongly imprisoned facing the injustice of the prison system (The Shawshank Redemption (1994)), scouting a group of misfit characters to forge a masterplan to be carried out on a grand scale (The Great Escape (1963)), or the simply plain ridiculous (Escape To Victory (1981)), director's have seemingly always had a fascination with escape. Perhaps it's a mixture of the desperation and excitement of breaking free and rebelling against a suppressive system. Of all the prison movies I've seen, none have been as focused, thrilling, or as involving as Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped.

It follows French resistance fighter Fontaine (Francois Letterier) as he is being exported to Nazi prison Fort Montluc during WWII. He instantly seizes a chance to escape on his way but is quickly re-captured and thrown back in the car. We see from the off that Fontaine is an opportunist, and will do everything in his power to battle against his situation. Upon arriving at Montluc, Fontaine quickly begins to devise his plan of escape by obtaining a safety pin which he uses to unlock his handcuffs, but upon being moved to a higher cell his handcuffs are removed anyway. He steals a spoon from the cafeteria, which he uses to slowly chip away a his cell door, filing and scratching the sides of the panels until it can be completely removed, leaving him able to roam the halls at night and plan his escape further.

His plan is thrown into disarray with the arrival of young soldier Francois (Charles Le Clainche) who bears the uniforms of both the French and German army. Fontaine must decide whether to trust this possibly spy and take him on his escape, or to kill him. Upon Francois' arrival, Fontaine also learns that his activities working for the French resistance have earned him the death sentence, so must quickly escape or face his fate. The film is based on the memoirs of Andre Devigny and his experiences imprisoned by the Nazis.

Bresson's genius shines through in this film with his ability to conjure nail-biting tension in the tiniest of things. Fontaine spends most of his time squatted in front of his cell door, filing down the door panels with his blunt spoon, and it's these scenes where you feel the excitement of Fontaine's slow progression, and the elation of the eventual success. The focus stays on Fontaine, as he conspires with his fellow inmates and slowly executes his plan. We see little of the Nazis and how they treat the inmates, and we don't need to, we know they were quite the bastards and weren't very nice. The fear of being at their will is written on Fontaine's face, and it's much more powerful for that.

This is a prison escape movie carried out with pinpoint precision by a masterful director. This is the first Bresson I've seen and I'll be seeking out many more when I get the chance. This is character study mixed with the intensity of a thriller. I have only experienced a similar feeling with Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Wages Of Fear (1953). The prison genre will most likely forever be eclipsed by The Shawshank Redemption, but this film deserves to equally regarded.


Directed by: Robert Bresson
Starring: François Leterrier, Charles Le Clainche, Maurice Beerblock
Country: France

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie