Lionsgate DVD has scoured the Studio Canal library to assemble the
Brigitte Bardot
5-Film Collection, an assortment of star vehicles for one of France's most famous
cinematic exports. None of the color films are classics but all display Ms. Bardot's
signature pout and infectious smile. Definitely a cinematic original, "BB" is still the
fantasy of millions of male daydreams.
Brigitte Bardot has never been forgotten, even though she's been absent from the screen for
34 years. She became a continental star with just a few films but didn't catch on
internationally until 1956 in
...and God Created Woman, a sexy drama directed by her
husband, Roger Vadim. This collection showcases three comedies, a romantic trifle and a
more serious study of romantic obsession. Ms. Bardot's bright personality dominates all of
them.
The first two shows are directed by Michel Boisrond. In 1956's
Naughty Girl (Cette
sacrée gamine) Bardot plays a mischievous young woman prone to amorous
adventures. Handsome cabaret entertainer Jean Clery (Jean Bretonnière) spirits
Brigitte Latour (Bardot) from a fancy girl's school to keep her away from police questions
about her father's connections to a smuggling racket. Brigitte is delighted to stay in
Jean's upscale Paris apartment. She accidentally starts a fire and sabotages Jean's
engagement to Lili, his psychiatrist (Françoise Fabian of
My Night at
Maud's). Brigitte becomes entangled with numerous subsidiary comic characters while
dodging the smugglers that operate out of the nighclub where Jean performs.
The story is feather light and wholly predictable, yet Bardot is pleasing as the
bikini-clad daughter who delights in creating havoc. The message is that Brigitte is a
delightful baby who needs to be pampered. Bretonnière has two or three musical
numbers. Bardot joins him onstage to escape some crooks, and Jean's extended daydream
sequence gives her a fantasy dance number. Hollywood veteran Mischa Auer has a bit as a
pop-eyed dance instructor at the girls' school and the late Michel Serrault is one of the
frustrated police inspectors.
1959's
Come Dance with Me (Voulez-vous danser avec moi?) is the unlikely tale of
Virginie (Bardot), who walks out on her husband Hervé (Henri Vidal) after a fight.
Hervé gets into an innocent (but explicit) petting party with Anita, a woman he
picks up in a bar (Dawn Addams of
The 1,000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse). Anita turns out to
be a blackmailer, and when Hervé goes to her dance studio to negotiate, he finds
himself framed for her murder. Virginie believes her husband's story ("It's all my fault
for walking out on him") and goes undercover as a dance instructor to catch the killer.
That motivates plenty of Mambos, Tangos and Rock 'n' Roll gyrations while a visiting
inspector (Paul Frankeur of Buñuel's
The Milky Way) wonders why the perky
Virginie is gumming up his investigation.
The movie is fairly funny and moves quickly. Although burdened with a standard whodunnit
plot, the trail eventually leads to a surprise killer. Virginie has an interesting
conversation with a fellow dance instructor who confides that he's a covert homosexual and
moonlights in a club called Blue Fetish. Virginie is accepting of this information, but the
script betrays a reactionary attitude when the dancer confesses that he "has a problem with
his morals." He also tells Virginie that she makes him regret that he's not attracted to
women.
1962's
Love on a Pillow (Le repos du guerrier) reunites Bardot with director Roger
Vadim, now no longer her husband. The story is interesting but ponderous; it seems to go on
much longer than its 102 minutes. In Dijon to collect an inheritance, Geneviève Le
Thiel (Bardot) opens the wrong hotel room and inadvertently interrupts the suicide of
Renaud Sarti (Robert Hossein). Becoming "the owner of his soul," Geneviève at first
cannot get rid of Renaud but soon succumbs to his charms. She dismisses her fiancé
and shacks up with Renaud in her attractive Paris apartment. For his part, Renaud refuses
to admit that he needs Geneviève or even believes in love. He reads
Don
Quixote while toying with her affections, lying and taking to drink. The pair meet up
with Renaud's sculptor friend Katov (James Robertson Justice of
Land of the
Pharaohs, dubbed into French) and his girl Raphaële (Macha Méril of
Belle du jour and
Deep Red). At a wild party, Geneviève is humiliated
by Renaud's insistence that fidelity and jealousy don't matter. Relocating to Florence,
Renaud's drinking worsens. He claims he's trying to drive Geneviève away, that he'll
destroy her if she doesn't leave. He picks up a prostitute right in front of her. Katov
asks Geneviève if she's willing to 'go all the way' to the end of Renaud's
self-inflicted torment.
The original title translates to
The Warrior's Rest and the original book source
probably related Renaud's soul-sickness to wartime experiences. Roger Vadim covers the
narrative but doesn't provide a satisfying ending. The pace slows as Geneviève's
trials become more predictable. Vadim indulges in titillating near-nudity and decorative
camera angles effects unconnected to the characters. A split diopter allows a giant
close-up of Bardot to share the screen with action in the distance, keeping both in
focus.
The interesting Houssein has an acting edge on Bardot; it's really his movie. He convinces
as a selfish creep with unlimited reserves of hateful remarks: "Love is an abyss. I don't
care." Bardot has only her signature pout and some tears to work with; she's either happy
or unhappy with few gradients in between. We so thoroughly despise Renaud that the ending
reconciliation doesn't work. Vadim stages it in a windswept Florentine ruin, an overly
dramatic gambit that can't mask the absence of a real character conversion.
1967's
Two Weeks in September (À coeur joie) is a hollow trifle depending
wholly on Bardot's charm. She's Cecile, a Parisian model bored with her marriage to the
dependable Philippe (Jean Rochefort). On a week's modeling job in London Cecile falls for
Vincent (Laurent Terzieff), a guy who hangs around the fashion shoot. They indulge in a
three-day fling in Scotland before Cecile is forced to choose between the men in her life.
Director Serge Bourguignon goes for pretty pictures and not much else. The modeling theme
shows Bardot in a variety of fashions, photographed quayside on the Thames and at the zoo.
Future director Michael Sarne is the photographer. Scotland is tapped as a photogenic
location, complete with James Robertson Justice in a kilt, showing the lovers to an
abandoned castle. Thiis time using his own voice, Justice brings breakfast to their bed of
hay. Vincent and Cecile exchange weak dialogue about love and take turns hugging Vincent's
Basset Hound. Cecile wonders out loud why she can't just have two men in her life. The
deepest line in the film is Cecile's advice to her husband: "Women are like children. You
should never make them a promise you can't keep." The flighty Cecile is contrasted with
lions in the zoo, and her lovemaking cries are compared to the seabirds outside of the
Scottish castle. The literal translation of the French title is roughly, "A Happy Heart."
1969's
The Vixen (Les femmes) labors under a strained concept that resembles a soft
core plot from the 1980s, but without extended sex scenes. Womanizing author Jerome
(Maurice Ronet) has found success with books about his failed love affairs. For new
inspiration, his publisher hires young Clara (Bardot) as an amorous 'personal' secretary.
It's a weak fantasy. Clara protests that her contract requires her to cooperate with Jerome
even in bed, but she says "Oui!" anyway. On a train ride to Rome, Clara takes dictation as
Jerome goes over his previous affairs, reviewing his inability to commit to various
beauties played by Christina Holme, Anny Duperey, Tanya Lopert and others. Jerome finally
gets Clara's full cooperation but the ending suggests that a new secretary will be needed
for his next book.
Travelogue scenes share space with Jerome's memories, pictured in past-tense images of key
moments in his relationships: abandoning a bride at the altar, leaping back and forth
between two lovers, etc. Jerome meets his match when one of his girlfriends turns out to be
more willfully promiscuous than he is. Bardot pouts and teases, Ronet looks perplexed and
the movie doesn't go much of anywhere. The sexiest material on screen happens in the
credits, which take advantage of lengthy close-up of Bardot's moist lips. Now
that's
sexy.
Lionsgate rounds out its
Brigitte Bardot 5-Film Collection with a New Wave
featurette hosted by Hugh Hefner and a number of Bardot biographers. Hefner correlates
Bardot's success to the impact of foreign films on American sexuality in the conservative
1950s. The interviews play against a backdrop of clips from the films in the set, including
every available frame of fleeting near-nudity. More interestingly, the biographers talk
about the actress's problem with her "sex kitten" image, her fleeting marriages and her
retreat to a happy retirement in 1973.
Image quality is good in all of the features, with
Naughty Girl a bit softer than
the others. All of the transfers are anamorphically enhanced.
Naughty Girl, Love on a
Pillow and
Two Weeks in September are formatted in 2:35 'Scope, and the other
two fill widescreen monitors at 1:66. All of the tracks are French, with removable
subtitles in English and Spanish. Be careful opening the case, as the pillow-like white
vinyl sleeve is a tight fit on the disc holder inside. The temptation is to look for an
opening in the sleeve, but there is none. Just slide the holder up or down to get it
out.
For more information about
Brigitte Bardot 5-Film Collection, visit
Lionsgate Home Entertainment.
To order
Brigitte Bardot 5-Film Collection, go to
TCM
Shopping.
by Glenn Erickson
