Following a 1964 film that I criticized for being shallow, comes a 1963 French film that is philosophically dense and offers a hardly enjoyable story.
“Contempt” is two stories in one. It’s a film about Paul, a writer, and his attractive wife Camille, and how their marriage falls apart in spiral of suspicion, mistrust, and well—contempt. Paul, who normally writes crime books and plays, is hired to re-write/punch up scenes for a Fritz Lang adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey. The film is being financed by American producer Jeremy Prokosh, who hates Lang’s high-brow interpretation of the story. Paul would love the opportunity to work on the film and seemingly uses Camille as a bargaining chip for the gig (he leaves her alone with Jeremy for great periods of time). Camille resents him for this but begrudgingly indulges in her role as a chess piece (to her mortal detriment). Meanwhile, the “other story” is a meta commentary on the purity of filmmaking, the manipulative, “fascist”-nature of money, and the American commercialization of the art form.
There are a few things I found fascinating about this film. The vistas, scenery, and camera work were sublime. It was wonderful how the relationship-story’s parallel to the Odyssey was accentuated by the filming locations for the in-film Odyssey. Two, the film’s comfortable relationship with nudity was curious to me. I’m not a prude at all, but to watch a film where the bombshell leading actress spends half of her scenes being casually naked was just new to me. The film has a lot of sexual energy and iconography that the nudity stands apart from, and I couldn’t decide if it was empowering or objectifying. Maybe neither. Maybe both. Maybe that’s not for me to decide. Finally, having Fritz Lang star in this film as himself was really unique. That would be like casting Steven Spielberg in Netflix’s “Marriage Story”, and having him play himself, direct an in-film movie, and offer up high-minded, philosophical musings on the nature of film while serving as witness to the dissolution of a relationship. Fascinating.
Ultimately, I didn’t enjoy the film though. I don’t think I was supposed to—watching a marriage fall apart isn’t necessarily a fun romp. But I found the “love story” part of the film unrealistic or poorly aged. From using your wife as a chess-piece to get a job, to slapping her for acting miffed, to pinching the ass of an assistant, Paul’s actions were foreign to me. And yet, Camille’s reaction to it—to quietly seethe and get closer to Jeremy, who she despises—was childish and petty. It’s just not how I would expect this to play out in a modern relationship. And while I loved Lang’s literary musings on film and creation, philosophy isn’t story. Perhaps if I was better acquainted with “the classics” (I have never read Odyssey), some of the metaphors and connective tissue would have stood out to me better. Maybe I’m just a stupid American. Or maybe, next to “Viva Las Vegas”, a philosophical French film with a bunch of nudity felt high-brow and artsy at the time, but doesn’t particularly age well.