The Earrings of Madame de…
Directed by Max Ophüls
Ask any rabid cinephile: Max Ophüls’ The Earrings of Madame de… is a masterpiece of film form. A solemn romance set in early 20th century Paris, the story is tame and elegant, but Ophüls tells it with marvelous panache—all sweeping cameras and majestic mise-en-scene. I don’t buy Andrew Sarris’ assertion that this is “the greatest film of all time,” but its lyricism surely deserves attention: Earrings recounts tragedy with sincere attention to each of its characters. Nobody wins in the end, and you feel bad for everyone. But Ophüls combines an immersive atmosphere with fierce moral dilemmas so that the experience stays richly rewarding throughout.
The eponymous Madame’s name never gets revealed (in fact, it’s intentionally obscured throughout to the point of absurdity), a device that allows personality and behavior to fully represent her character. Married to a wealthy count whose affections she ignores, Madame sells a fancy set of earrings her husband gives in order to heal a nasty debt. She can’t keep the secret of the sale for long, however; her estranged partner buys back the jewelry as a gift to his mistress. That’s enough to set the stage for drama in your typical soap opera scenario, but the plot (based on the novel by Louise de Vilmorin) throws in further complications. The lover sells the earrings to a diplomat, who visits France and winds up in the arms of—who else?—Madame herself. Vanity encircles her fragile existence.
Film Forum’s print does a terrific job highlighting Ophüls’ qualitative approach to filmmaking, which still looks mighty impressive half a century down the line. His decisive attention to detail would make the movie compelling even if the sound were turned off (or the subtitles weren’t there for those of us who don’t speak French). By the time the harrowing conclusion rolls around, the most haunting characters are indubitably the earrings.
Directed by Max Ophüls
Ask any rabid cinephile: Max Ophüls’ The Earrings of Madame de… is a masterpiece of film form. A solemn romance set in early 20th century Paris, the story is tame and elegant, but Ophüls tells it with marvelous panache—all sweeping cameras and majestic mise-en-scene. I don’t buy Andrew Sarris’ assertion that this is “the greatest film of all time,” but its lyricism surely deserves attention: Earrings recounts tragedy with sincere attention to each of its characters. Nobody wins in the end, and you feel bad for everyone. But Ophüls combines an immersive atmosphere with fierce moral dilemmas so that the experience stays richly rewarding throughout.
The eponymous Madame’s name never gets revealed (in fact, it’s intentionally obscured throughout to the point of absurdity), a device that allows personality and behavior to fully represent her character. Married to a wealthy count whose affections she ignores, Madame sells a fancy set of earrings her husband gives in order to heal a nasty debt. She can’t keep the secret of the sale for long, however; her estranged partner buys back the jewelry as a gift to his mistress. That’s enough to set the stage for drama in your typical soap opera scenario, but the plot (based on the novel by Louise de Vilmorin) throws in further complications. The lover sells the earrings to a diplomat, who visits France and winds up in the arms of—who else?—Madame herself. Vanity encircles her fragile existence.
Film Forum’s print does a terrific job highlighting Ophüls’ qualitative approach to filmmaking, which still looks mighty impressive half a century down the line. His decisive attention to detail would make the movie compelling even if the sound were turned off (or the subtitles weren’t there for those of us who don’t speak French). By the time the harrowing conclusion rolls around, the most haunting characters are indubitably the earrings.
