Tonight I got to experience the first of what I hope are many great, classic films. I skipped out of work and went to the Belcourt to see the Jean Renoir picture, The Rules Of The Game, resplendent in black and white - a wonderful restoration. While it may have been reviled by the French and banned by the Nazis, The Rules Of The Game is entertaining and mesmerizing in every way, and is especially captivating in its examination of the validity of romantic love.
The film starts out with a throng of people celebrating the return of an aviator who has circled the globe in almost record time. But instead of being elated by the success of his feat and the adulation of his countrymen, the young aviator is completely dejected, inconsolable because the woman he adores is not there to greet him. When asked by the reporter how he feels about his triumph, the aviator can only bemoan the fact that he flew around the world for one person and that person doesn’t seem to care. And from that point on, the game begins.
We see so many shades of romantic love as the film plays on. Lust, seduction, pining, infatuation, jealousy and even murderous passion. At one point a woman says to her paramour that she wants to flee with him, leaving her husband behind. But her lover says that he can not steal a man’s wife away without telling him. “There are rules to the game,” he says. Is love a game? When one man seduces another man’s wife, is he not just playing a game? If he manages to ensnare this woman, is he satisfied? Does the game end? Or does another game begin?
Two movies came to mind while watching this wonderful film. One is the movie Love Jones, which came out about ten years ago. There is a line from that movie that states, “Romance is the moment between when a man first meets a woman and when he first makes love to her.” The other film is From The Terrace with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. The actress Ina Balin asks Newman if he believes in love at first sight. He responds, “I believe in confusion.” When you watch Rules, you can detach yourself from the gaudy affluence of the French bourgeoisie. You can see this whole thing as a farce and not take it seriously, blaming the carelessness in love on the spoiled haughtiness of aristocracy. But be careful. This game is played by all, from the Oval office to the disillusioned housewife who suddenly has an itch. All it takes is meeting that one person who makes your toes tingle and the game begins — the confusion as well.
There were many other interesting things about Rules. The brief, anti-semitic tinged conversation among the working class who in fact worked for a Jew (This film was shot in 1939. Right before the Second World War.) The way director Renoir had his characters move back and forth between some scenes in such a nimble fashion, it was almost like a waltz — a comical, clumsy one at times. But I was fascinated with the games the people played. Perhaps it was intended to poke fun, but it had to have hit close to home. Otherwise, why did it upset so many?
Love is a game. How much do you give? How much do you take? How much can you say without seeming too vulnerable? One would think sincerity would be the best tactic when it came to love. But as the object of the aviator’s undying affection says, “Sincere people are such a bore.” The fun is in the chase and in being chased. It is in desire and being desired. When love becomes too honest, it seems people shy away and begin to look for their fun elsewhere.
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Etiketer Said:
Thanks! Really interesting. I wish i could spend my time on writing articles…just have no time for it.
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