grimmer

Belle de Jour

Complex, confusing and at times insane plot, Belle De Jour is a wild watch. The main character needs serious therapy and all the help she can get. Her husband will probably need a better therapist though, good luck to him, he’ll need it. It’s an interesting film which has you hooked from the story, great imagery and mystery.

breakfastcowl

Belle de Jour

Finally getting to this one, too. I've only seen a bare handful of Buñuel's films but the last one, "Viridiana", stuck with me a fair bit so I didn't know at all what I could be in for here. Turns out, it's a quiet --and at times, nearly tender-- surreality that works oh-so-smoothly against the finely tuned sensibilities of the day. And it also centers a woman's pleasure and desire in a way I haven't... well, I have a lot of film history to get through, but for now I don't think I've even once seen another mainline 60's or prior film ever get this intent on it before, the balancing act of past and present traumas mingling with budding, flailing awareness in an era where you don't necessarily have the terms or community to describe what you're feeling. This film feels like her own trying to even get around to finding the words for the question, with the experience itself becoming the question in turn. What's fantasy, what's "real"... does it even matter where the line is drawn

joaomarco2003

Belle de Jour

"Eu lembro da moça bonita Da praia de Boa Viagem E a moça no meio da tarde De um domingo azul Azul era Belle de Jour Era a bela da tarde Seus olhos azuis como a tarde Na tarde de um domingo azul La Belle de Jour!" - Alceu Valença (Des)ilusões de um mundo materialista

Nxomi???

Belle de Jour

Once again, a film that brilliantly portrays themes of desire, repression, and sexuality. Take notes, Halina Reijn. Through an ambiguous narrative, Buñuel presents us with Séverine’s internal struggle to rediscover her identity in a world that limits her, not only as a woman within a marriage but also as an individual trapped by imposed morality, forced to control her own impulses. Buñuel depicts eroticism in such an enigmatic way, without the need to show the sexual act on screen. The symbolism he employs is ingenious. It goes without saying that the scene with the box is precisely a gateway to repressed desire and a great metaphor for the mystery of pleasure, that which attracts and terrifies us at the same time, what we crave but do not dare to fully open. More than once, I found myself thinking, "Good for her," because I truly believe that finding refuge in fantasy is entirely valid when reality does not allow for freedom. Séverine does not seek pleasure merely for the sake of pleasure but as a way to gain control over something, which ultimately manifests in her desire for self-humiliation. I love how Buñuel does not judge his protagonist or overly dramatize the situation. He simply presents us with her internal struggle because, yes, there is obviously infidelity involved, but also a sense of guilt for failing to feel satisfied with the role imposed upon her. All I can say is that Marcel has captivated me, body and soul, and I love him, I love him, I love him.