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Le Plaisir (1952)
directed by Max Ophüls
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Netflix

Jean Gabin’s hangdog sentimentalism almost steals the show, except he’s a little embarrassing as the half-lecherous, half-proud country brother to a popular madam from a rural town. And that, as always, is Ophüls point: that with women or without them, men will inevitably be reduced to anguish or ineptitude. Men are jealous and temperamental, men lie and take too much stock in their pride. But women are beautiful. Women are strong and self-reliant. They know that the world can’t turn without them, and they love the world too much to stop it.

Ophüls’ women – like Kenji Mizoguchi’s, Eric Rohmer’s, and Quentin Tarantino’s – suffer for their hearts and their men. They are heroes who inspire a cause more than martyrs who die for one (although they do sometimes die). They lead full, rich lives and at the end of the day retire into their own thoughts and dreams. In that way, a director like Ophüls does not make “minor” pictures so much as discover amazing women in minor places. And I do not condescend so much as talk down to obscure.