Sunday 26 September 2010

Proces De Jeanne d'Arc (The Trial Of Joan Of Arc)

Back to Robert Bresson, a classic film of his, only an hour or so long, made in 1962.
Bresson's films require immense concentration, on the image, on the characters, and on the dialogue. This film has its very very sharp and minimalist structure, the same locations, the same style used over and over again, leading up.
The characterisation of Joan is fascinating, clearly a Joan for our time, clever use is made of here eyes and changes in her diction to indicate that she does waver. She appears to doubt herself, to be genuinely broken dowm by the interrogation. This kind of genuine, stripped back, development means we end up really studying her face, means the audience genuinely takes part in the identification; hence the power of the ending.
The bishop is also characterised wonderfully, a sensational performance of ambiguities in a craggy, side-lit face. Where does the sympathy come form? Tiny corners on the flick of the mouth. The spirituality of the film comes from similar sources. Who is the man, in white, helping Joan? No real indication given, probably some kind of orderly. But maybe, maybe...
Bresson uses his tropes smartly. Outside of the dialogue mid shots the only non-conventional ones we get (largely) are of the feet. This is a simple method to characterise well, to understand the use of the body.
We couldn't let a Bresson film pass with noting the use of sound, Bresson being perhaps the master of audio in cinema (a great claim, but he deserves the applause). The discordant drums at the beginning and end hark us back to paganism, to unsure and dark times. Wjat Bresson is greatest at is his use of diagetic sound. He deliberately makes footsteps seem to loom, on repeated mix as hell approaches Joan's cell.
This very short and clear film is, like Bresson's filmswe have seen previously, difficult. We are finding Bresson increasingly more and more emotionally powerful, but, yet, it remains very difficult. So we did enjoy this, but it remains, unrepentantly, a Bresson film.

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