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02 Te Harmony’s Sublime: Te Role of Melancholia in Jacques Demy’s Films ALEX POMPILII In Jacques Demy’s first feature-length film Lola, protagonist Roland Cassard reflects: “I’m the quintessential failure. I did nothing but daydream, now I’m lost and bored.” In a way, this statement summarizes not only all of Demy’s films and characters, but the overall tone of post-war France. Recalling Jean Rouch’s Chronicle of a Summer (1961), in which an interviewer asks strangers on the street if they are happy, Demy’s films seem to be reflecting the general consensus. Post-war France could only be described as “headlong, dramatic, and breathless” with its rapid turn to modernization and the French people’s desperate search to feel anything besides constant desolation (Ross 4). Although 35 Demy’s contemporaries Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut, and even his own wife Agnès Varda receive more scholarly praise, Demy’s films arguably depict post-war French melancholia most successfully. Trough his films, Demy’s characters explore the universal human experience of love and heartbreak; they make us question our own emotions and mortality just as France as a nation was doing during the 1960s. In Demy’s world, the line between euphoria and melancholia is a thin one; and it can most likely be changed with either a random encounter or a sudden change of heart. Tus, characters come and go from each other’s lives at a swift pace. While some critics dismiss his films as “horrible melodramas” or “shop-girl fantasies,” they are only reading his films on the surface and interpreting them as appealing only to young women (Billard 4). Even on the surface, his films recall the fine arts: paintings, ballet, and opera. For these critics, Demy’s films are understood as silly fairy tales that lack meaning or the substance required to encourage social upheaval. Quite the opposite. Demy’s films center on working-class struggles. It can be said that the artifice of Demy’s world is extravagance surrounding an empty core—that, however, is far from being true. Te factitiousness instead draws the viewer to the real emotion behind it, specifically sadness and melancholy. A moody film noir may capture these emotions as well, but Demy’s contrasting style and substance makes him a unique choice for portraying these emotions. Upon watching Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg for the first time, I was surprised by the ending—it shatters your expectations and makes you reflect on your own life. Former lovers Geneviève and Guy are reunited only to be torn apart once more, their once intense love affair merely a ghost of a distant memory as they ultimately return to their new partners. Te return of Michel Legrand’s sumptuous score, partnered with the swift crane out shot, formulate the perfect jarring ending without having one ounce of exploitative shock. Why we feel such strong emotions is due to Demy’s masterful skill of blending contradictions: 36 the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the light and the dark, which makes his films all the more realistic in bringing out sadness in all of us. Life is not all black-and-white danger, like a noir. It can sometimes feel as bright and uplifting as one of Demy’s sets. Overall, Demy creates a mood of melancholia by unhinging temporality, his mise-en-scène, and his shattering of our known reality. To explore these ideas in Demy’s work, I will be concentrating on his films Lola (1961), Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964), and Te Young Girls of Rochefort (1967), with some mentions of Bay of Angels (1963), and Model Shop (1969). Te melancholic tone of Demy’s films, in part, comes from his diffusing of temporality. Tis technique derives from melodramas as a genre, where temporality relies on the strange sensation of nostalgia. Coined by Johannes Hofer in the 17th century, nostalgia is “born from a disorder of the imagination, from which it follows that the nervous sap always takes the same direction in the brain and, as a result, excites the very same idea, the desire to return to one’s native land” (DeFalco 3). In Hofer’s findings, his patients that had a serious case of nostalgia fully recovered from the phenomenon once they returned to their homes (DeFalco 4). However, in the case of cinema, “home” cannot as easily be achieved. Nostalgia must be broadened to include a longing for somewhere that does not exist anymore, and perhaps even a place that has never truly existed. In addition, the “nostalgic object” is lost in time and space; unlike the nostalgia homes of Hofer’s patients, it can never be received or grasped by the person who aspires to possess it. For instance, consider Geneviève’s long-suffering mother in Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg who longs for her youth by vicariously living through her daughter, or Lola’s longing for her glory years as a performer in Model Shop. Tis results in “an inevitably frustrated longing; though one may return to the homeland, one can never turn back time” (DeFalco 4). Tis plays out in melodramas, particularly in Sirk’s films, by blending fantasy with a “self-conscious constructedness that results in the notoriously ‘unhappy happy endings’ of his films” (DeFalco 4). Tis statement can easily be attached to Demy’s 37 films. In each of the films that I am discussing, temporality is played out through the forbidden nostalgia lens. Te characters all seem bound to their cities, towns, and destinies. Although they express desire to escape, few actually do. Lola is able to escape, but the older Madame Desnoyers cannot. Additionally, Lola’s escape takes a dark toll in Demy’s later films, signifying that it was not a real escape to freedom after all. In Lola, her character is mostly ambitious and free-spirited, yet her fates in both Te Young Girls of Rochefort and Model Shop are extremely dark: in the former she is killed by an axe-murderer and in the latter she is left disillusioned and broken by life. Either way, the character of Lola is a character that has nostalgic ties—and her fate is to stay in the past. In the intertextual world, Lola was both based on Lola Montés of Max Öphuls’ Lola Montés, and Lola- Lola of Josef von Sternberg’s Te Blue Angel (Duggan 21). Both of these inspirations are bound firmly to the past. Lola Montés is a Tradition of Quality film, and Te Blue Angel is a pre-code film starring Marlene Dietrich. As a character, Lola symbolizes and embodies these past cinematic epochs with a dark undertone. In some sense, her dark fates suggest that these movements can never be revived again. It also asserts that the past is never as promising as one imagines it to be. In Model Shop, Lola is sick with nostalgia for her past self, while in Lola, she shows George a photo album of old pictures of herself. However, as noted by Amy Herzog, this Lola is “a false simulacrum, a bad copy” (Herzog 142). For a character or viewer longing for the bygone days once again, Lola’s reappearance may seem like a homesick cure of that nostalgia, but it is a false promise. Temporality is also expanded in Demy’s films through repetition. Lola’s reappearance serves as one example, but his female characters usually serve as mirrors to each other: mothers and daughters in Lola, Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and Te Young Girls of Rochefort, and the twins Solange and Delphine in Te Young Girls of Rochefort (Herzog 142). Other mirroring in Demy’s films include his signature iris-in/iris-out which starts and concludes most of his films. On his usage of the iris, Demy 38 commented “It’s as if the film existed before and continues to exist afterwards; it goes on behind the circle” (Hill Demy Monde 393). Te conclusion of one of his films is not actually the end; his characters exist behind the scenes and reappear in other films of his. Te audience is repetitively acquainted with them and reminded of their presence through references and nods to his previous film—like with Lola mentioning that Michel ran off with Jackie of Bay of Angels in Model Shop, or Roland mentioning his lost love Lola in Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Te recurring songs and musical score throughout Demy’s films also confuse temporality. Tis is most prominent in Te Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which is entirely sung without any spoken dialogue. Although time passes throughout the narrative, the flow of what seems to be one unending song (in reality, it is eighteen songs with recurring melodies) locks the story in an uncanny state of time and space. Te music in Te Young Girls of Rochefort flutters between live performances to personal, aside confessions of love. While Delphine and Solange’s performance at the fair is heard by the in-film audience, their introduction song-and-dance is performed for the audience watching the actual film alone. Te changes in temporality are not signaled by one scene or another, instead they blend and blur throughout the films. Jean-Pierre Berthomé described Demy’s sets as “familiar enough that we recognize it, but so transformed that we venture there with wondrous jubilation, as if crossing the threshold to the fantastic” (Hill Te New Wave Meets the Tradition of Quality 39). Te familiar towns with vibrant, artificial colours add to the uncanny feelings of Demy’s films, at the same time contrasting with the overall themes of melancholy.