Even as early as "Le Bonheur", you could
tell that Agnes Varda was born to make documentaries. This slight, if
extremely beautiful, little film is an everyday tale of adultery, of a
man happy, and in love with, not one woman but two, his wife and the
mother of his children and his mistress. For most of its length, until
near the end when a tragedy occurs, it's not a film full of drama. The
title says it all; the husband is guilt-free and happy and Varda's use
of colour expresses that. Even that tragedy is expressed
very matter-of-factly.
It's also like a documentary in that Varda uses untried actors, (it was Jean-Claude Drouot's first film), and simply observes them in a series of everyday situations in which very little actually happens, just like life and it becomes clear quite early on that observation is everything for Varda, (the long opening sequence of a summer picnic is a stunner). When I say the film is slight I don't mean in form or construction or even in content but in attitude. Varda views the world with great simplicity and the closest she comes to being critical is simply to say that perhaps happiness isn't all it's cut out to be after all. A small gem of a picture.
It's also like a documentary in that Varda uses untried actors, (it was Jean-Claude Drouot's first film), and simply observes them in a series of everyday situations in which very little actually happens, just like life and it becomes clear quite early on that observation is everything for Varda, (the long opening sequence of a summer picnic is a stunner). When I say the film is slight I don't mean in form or construction or even in content but in attitude. Varda views the world with great simplicity and the closest she comes to being critical is simply to say that perhaps happiness isn't all it's cut out to be after all. A small gem of a picture.
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