My claim to cinematic expertise comes from the one Film module I did back in university, but I do watch quite a lot of movies, which I believe counts for at least something.
And I’m pretty sure I can recognize a French film when I see one (even without the benefit of the large noses).
The question I’d like to ask is – do French films use scripts? And if they do, who writes them? How? My idea of a French screenplay looks something like this (translated, for the benefit of my non-French readership):
(Scene 1)
Matthieu: (whispers, haltingly) Go.
(Camera lingers lovingly on Marie’s face for one minute. Switch to Matthieu, who has on face expression of tremendous pain mixed with longing. Switch to Marie, who has single tear fall from cheek. Switch to stock footage of 2 seagulls flying along a beach set against fading sunset. Switch to Marie, who sobs and runs from the door in anguish. Switch to Matthieu, who looks blankly at the empty doorway for five minutes, while violin-music plays. Switch to seagulls, who continue to fly. Switch to Marie, driving along a highway, tears running down cheeks. Switch to Matthieu, in exact same position as he was in previously, but now staring at the ring on his right hand with an empty smile filled with pain and sadness, yet twinged with melancholic happiness. Switch to seagulls. Switch to Marie, sitting on the beach, looking at seagulls and sea-things, the sea breeze blowing through her hair. On her face is an expression of sadness mixed with the happiness of freedom from a tragic relationship. Switch to Matthieu, who slowly crumples onto his bed, crying softly in anguish and pain. Switch to seagulls, who fly for a bit longer but finally land. Switch to flashback of Matthieu and Marie laughing whilst running along a beach. Fade to next scene.)
(Scene 2)
(Matthieu stands on the platform of a train station. Matthieu looks around nervously. Five minute scene of Mathhieu waiting for train, cut rapidly for cinematic effect. Five more minutes of frenetic editting featuring Matthieu boarding train and getting onto his seat. Matthieu looks around at his fellow passengers. Matthieu gets out of his seat. Cut to Matthieu standing outside the dessert counter buying a bottle of mineral water. Camera lingers on Matthieu’s funger, where we see the ring from previous scene. Matthieu takes inordinately long amount of time to put money back into pocket so that ring and significance of said ring can be communicated to audience through its repeated appearance. Cut to Matthieu back in his cabin, where a Strange Woman has taken his seat. Cut to Matthieu standing over Strange Woman.)
Matthieu: (whispers, haltingly) Pardon, but…
Strange Woman: (looks up at Matthieu, surprised) Oh, I’m sorry… I thought no one was sitting here
(Strange Woman gets up and leaves, flustered. Camera stays fixed focused on scene whilst she leaves and Matthieu avoids all eye-contact. We will never get to see Strange Woman ever again in this movie, despite all the screen time that she got. Matthieu gets back into his seat slowly. Cut to scene of Matthieu sitting, staring blankly out of his window into beautiful French country-side view. Cut to French country-side view. Emphasize Matthieu’s fragile internal state of mind with images of golden fields of grass softly waving in the wind. Cut to scene of Matthieu sleeping in his seat, as people walk about him to get off train. Cut to scene of Matthieu alone in cabin, still sleeping as everyone else has gotten off without him. Emphasize how alone Matthieu feels now with long, drawn-out images of emptiness of train cabin, with sweeping scenes of empty seats, abandoned sweet wrappers and the closed cabin doors. Cut to next scene.)
(Continue said along similar lines, until requisite dramatic scene arrives, during which there will be five minutes of excited, nauseau-inducing-camera-movement followed by an endingthat makes no sense and ending credits set to funky French music, in which Strange Woman will be tragically billed as Woman Who Takes Seat on Train, though it was perfectly reasonable for her to assume that the seat was empty given that Matthieu took half-an-hour to buy a bottle of water.)
And it’s not that all French films are like that, but the vast majority of them tend to be, even the supposed-comedies. And it’s not that I don’t like French film – in fact I adore them when I’m in the right mood, but sometimes you just want to have a bit of a laugh and see something on screen without having to feel painfully conscious of Film Art and having to remember everything you learnt about mise en scene.
I have the sneaking suspicion that French scriptwriters are all trained in design rather than literature. Either that or French literary narrative differs very much from English, with Jane Austen plots set to Dickens prose. Will let you guys know once I can read anything in French.
At the moment I’m struggling to get past Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events (Les Adventures des Orphelins Baudelaire in French), which is sadly not very French at all. Nor easy.
