I may be the only person in the horror community to talk about the French New Wave, but my goal is to celebrate horror as well as drive-in culture.
Foreign films used to play drive-ins. Distributors had to get them in theaters and there weren’t many arthouses outside the big cities. Drive-ins played some mainstream fare, but many catered to outsider cinema. Exploitation movies, sure, but art films faced their own kind of prejudice.
Academic types traditionally dismiss horror and exploitation, though that’s gradually changing. The common man, philistines, show disdain for foreign pictures. It’s classic reverse discrimination.
One of the main complaints is subtitles. People say they can’t read the lines and watch the images at the same time. I believe that, but I also believe those who read my pages are sharp enough to handle it with ease.
People might as well have horse blinders on the sides of their heads. They call art films pretentious crap, but how many have they really given a chance? It’s like the knotheads who think all horror is slasher movies.
Case in point: Le Beau Serge is anything but pretentious. As a matter of fact, this movie is earthy and deeply human. It delves into human relations in ways Hollywood productions couldn’t or wouldn’t try to do.
Le Beau Serge is considered by some to be the first French New Wave movie. Writer-director Claude Chabrol was one of the writers of Cahiers du Cinema who revolutionized cinema with bold new styles. Unlike the lavish sets and costumes of Hollywood, these filmmakers shot guerilla-style. Natural light, lots of outdoor photography, and employed new ways of using the camera. Their stories featured subject matter considered taboo to American sensibilities.
No cigar-chomping moguls, no filthy rich demigod stars, no traditional screenplays. Productions often began with no real script to work from.
Le Beau Serge begins with a man, François, returning to his small town home. He became wealthy in business, but following an illness wants to rest and recover at home. He mostly wants to reconnect with his old friend Serge.
He finds the town in a diminished state and his old associates living in squalor. Serge is now unhappily married and is now an alcoholic. Others in the town seem to have lost all ambition or hope. Have they changed, or is François seeing them with new eyes?
Serge had one baby, born defective. I’m not sure this is the proper name for it, but the film refers to the baby as a Mongoloid. His wife is pregnant again and Serge is sure another disappointment is in store for him.
François observes drunkenness, debauchery, incest, apathy. The local Priest seems to accept the town’s spiritual decline and his own failings as a spiritual leader. The sole doctor accepts the contempt the townsfolk have for him.
Trying to help his old friend, François only makes matters worse for Serge, the other citizens, and even himself. He can’t help them, they wish no help, and the bitter Winter of disillusionment is at hand. Drink, screw, die. Scrape up enough money to keep from starving.
Le Beau Serge was released in 1958, but the story is still relevant and feels fresh. Change a few details and it could be any number of small American towns today. Too many people are without hope, without ambition, without any reason to even try. We can’t beat the billionaires, the climate is in crisis, and the government hates us all. What’s the point?
François made it back from the brink of death and so has more optimism than the others. His attempts to rally the people to some kind of life worth living seems futile, but maybe his perseverance can help inspire his old friends. After all, Dawn follows every dark night. Spring will beat out the frigid winter. Every new birth is a reason to celebrate and to hope.
Le Beau Serge is always beautiful to look at. The photography is innovative, the emotions are riveting, and the story is one most of us can relate to.
Perhaps, like François, my words will fall on deaf ears. Or should I say blind eyes? Maybe I am wasting my time trying to interest people in smart, artistic movies. Just as I generally fail at persuading them to see the fun of bad horror movies. I get such great joy from these things. I can’t help but urge people to at least give them a chance.
No one has to dine on art films alone. I mix it up between horror, independent, dramas, action, mainstream, and classic foreign movies. A balanced diet is healthy for the mind, the heart, and the spirit.
Written by Mark Sieber
Foreign films used to play drive-ins. Distributors had to get them in theaters and there weren’t many arthouses outside the big cities. Drive-ins played some mainstream fare, but many catered to outsider cinema. Exploitation movies, sure, but art films faced their own kind of prejudice.
Academic types traditionally dismiss horror and exploitation, though that’s gradually changing. The common man, philistines, show disdain for foreign pictures. It’s classic reverse discrimination.
One of the main complaints is subtitles. People say they can’t read the lines and watch the images at the same time. I believe that, but I also believe those who read my pages are sharp enough to handle it with ease.
People might as well have horse blinders on the sides of their heads. They call art films pretentious crap, but how many have they really given a chance? It’s like the knotheads who think all horror is slasher movies.
Case in point: Le Beau Serge is anything but pretentious. As a matter of fact, this movie is earthy and deeply human. It delves into human relations in ways Hollywood productions couldn’t or wouldn’t try to do.Le Beau Serge is considered by some to be the first French New Wave movie. Writer-director Claude Chabrol was one of the writers of Cahiers du Cinema who revolutionized cinema with bold new styles. Unlike the lavish sets and costumes of Hollywood, these filmmakers shot guerilla-style. Natural light, lots of outdoor photography, and employed new ways of using the camera. Their stories featured subject matter considered taboo to American sensibilities.
No cigar-chomping moguls, no filthy rich demigod stars, no traditional screenplays. Productions often began with no real script to work from.
Le Beau Serge begins with a man, François, returning to his small town home. He became wealthy in business, but following an illness wants to rest and recover at home. He mostly wants to reconnect with his old friend Serge.
He finds the town in a diminished state and his old associates living in squalor. Serge is now unhappily married and is now an alcoholic. Others in the town seem to have lost all ambition or hope. Have they changed, or is François seeing them with new eyes?
Serge had one baby, born defective. I’m not sure this is the proper name for it, but the film refers to the baby as a Mongoloid. His wife is pregnant again and Serge is sure another disappointment is in store for him.
François observes drunkenness, debauchery, incest, apathy. The local Priest seems to accept the town’s spiritual decline and his own failings as a spiritual leader. The sole doctor accepts the contempt the townsfolk have for him.
Trying to help his old friend, François only makes matters worse for Serge, the other citizens, and even himself. He can’t help them, they wish no help, and the bitter Winter of disillusionment is at hand. Drink, screw, die. Scrape up enough money to keep from starving.
Le Beau Serge was released in 1958, but the story is still relevant and feels fresh. Change a few details and it could be any number of small American towns today. Too many people are without hope, without ambition, without any reason to even try. We can’t beat the billionaires, the climate is in crisis, and the government hates us all. What’s the point?
François made it back from the brink of death and so has more optimism than the others. His attempts to rally the people to some kind of life worth living seems futile, but maybe his perseverance can help inspire his old friends. After all, Dawn follows every dark night. Spring will beat out the frigid winter. Every new birth is a reason to celebrate and to hope.
Le Beau Serge is always beautiful to look at. The photography is innovative, the emotions are riveting, and the story is one most of us can relate to.
Perhaps, like François, my words will fall on deaf ears. Or should I say blind eyes? Maybe I am wasting my time trying to interest people in smart, artistic movies. Just as I generally fail at persuading them to see the fun of bad horror movies. I get such great joy from these things. I can’t help but urge people to at least give them a chance.
No one has to dine on art films alone. I mix it up between horror, independent, dramas, action, mainstream, and classic foreign movies. A balanced diet is healthy for the mind, the heart, and the spirit.
Written by Mark Sieber
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