Summary
Orphée is a poet who becomes obsessed with Death. When a younger poet, Cegeste,
is killed, Orphée meets Death, in the form of a beautiful princess, and they fall
in love. But Orphée is already married. Jealous, the Princess instructs
her henchmen to kill Orphée’s wife, Eurydice. With the support of Heurtebise,
a spirit from the Princess’s domain, Orphée is able to recover his wife.
Eurydice can stay with Orphée in the land of the living provided the poet does
not look at her face. However, this is too great a burden for Orphée, and
he still yearns for the Princess...
Review
In this film, which can best be described as visual poetry, Jean Cocteau retells the familiar
tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, but in a original and fascinating way. Death is represented
by an alluring princess in a tight-fitting black dress, chauffered in a Rolls Royce limousine
and served by leather-clad motorcyclists. The afterlife is a vista of decaying buildings
beneath a pall of starless night sky. By using such strong physical representations
of metaphysical and abstract notions, Cocteau avoids sentimentality and pretentious surrealism
(to which he was opposed throughout his career). The result is a film that is infinitely
complex and subtle, employing visual imagery to strengthen the material substance of the
plot.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the film is how well the special effects are used.
When the characters walk through mirrors into the "other world", the effect achieved so
convincing that it just has to be real. Modern day film makers would have some difficulty
surpassing the shots where a solid glass mirror suddenly ripples like water when touched
by the Princess or her followers. Such attention to detail is the sign of a truly
great film, and a great man behind it.
On the acting side, it is probably Maria Casarès who is most memorable. Her
portrayal of the death princess is both moving and terrifying. She is as cold as
an ice-cube, yet her scenes with Jean Marais have a sense of tenderness that gives her
character a sympathetic dimension. Likewise, François Périer puts
in a moving performance as the tragic spirit Heurtebise, often appearing a much more engaging
character than the distracted poet played by Marais.
With some memorable visual imagery, fine acting, and masterly direction, this is an impressive
and enduring film from a man, Jean Cocteau, who saw poetry in everything.
© James Travers 2001
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