jcappy
Akerman's "La Captive" sticks in the memory. I think it must be its meditative force, and its very concrete means of expressing some truths about men and women.The title most assuredly gets delivered--in every scene, in every word, in every image. Ariane is viewed, desired, captured. Simon first possesses her as an image in a private video of a group of lesbians enjoying themselves on a beach. He then, like a detective or spy, puts his "love" object under direct surveillance, and takes her into his luxurious apt establishing her as he would say his comfortable tub, or his bed, to satisfy his longings.Thus it is that Ariane, simply be being female, arouses in Simon sex or sexual erection, predation, and bondage. But she is no prisoner of place--no, she is rather a prisoner on a leash. She is free to leave the periphery, free to be watched, stalked, inquisited, pounced upon , and retracted to service as a sexual prop and pliant companion.Her lesbian circle, her social life remain open to her because they spark Simon's objectifying sexuality. He needs the danger of her rejection to challenge and thus intensify his control over her. He needs to know his charmer, from inside out. Is lesbian love superior to his love? Does Ariane secretly scorn him? He needs to know her deepest secrets, in order to win her total dependency. For it is not her body, her budding innocence, her slimly fashionable doll-like persona, nor even her seductive sleep that is his primary interest, but rather her literal self. This is the only booty that will satisfy his quest for male identity.Ariane in short is no more than a fetish. She's been deprived of her vivid community, her lesbianism, and her emotional landscape. She cannot be herself because she has shrunk in captivity, and because she has become accustomed to captivity. That's what he's done to her, because it is her thoughts and her feelings that he needs to own.But ironically, he needs to know all about someone who knows nothing worth knowing. It has all gone from her as in amnesia. Full submission means going blank, so Ariane cannot answer any of Simon's prying questions. To respond to Simon's "love" she has had to become a thing--but not completely. She has saved some of herself for herself.And in the end, her self-containment cracks. Ariane's single passionate moment returns her to the sea, to the scene of her capture, and far more importantly to the actual place of her pre-captive life--and to her strong swimming , and to the physical strength to resist further imprisonment.
TheHig
As a film student, I have to watch a wide variety of films, both good and bad. This has to rate as the worst film on the first year of my course, and one of the worst films ever made.If you like your drama to be slightly slower than normal, then this may be for you, but even those who appreciate thought provoking over action will still be bored senseless by this absolute tripe.I have never seen a film slower than this one. The largely static camera barely helps, admittedly an intentional move, but I doubt intended to bore us that much.Yes this film sucks, and you'll be wishing the lead character would drive his car off the road, just to make it end.My Rating: 1/10
Alice Liddel
'La Captive' is, above all, a detective story. It opens, in scenes reminiscent of 'Vertigo', with a man following the movements of a woman later revealed to be his lover. It actually opens with him looking at her in a home video as she sits on the beach with her friend Andree. He tries to make out what she's saying, and the whole film is his attempt to read and interpret this woman, this so-called captive (the next book in Proust's 'In Search of Lost Time' is called 'The Fugitive').The first word he says, though, as he watches this video, is 'je', 'I', and this is the crux of the mystery. Is he reading her with too much 'I', too much subjective misinterpretation, to the point where her personality is literally squeezed to nothing (her name is changed from Proust's Albertine to Ariane = a rien), vanishing from the film? Or is it her 'I' that Simon tries to solve, as he sets himself the impossible task of fully possessing, fully knowing another person? Who is Ariane's 'je vous aime bien' referring to - Simon or her friend sitting beside her? The title refers to a female captive, but the real prisoner here is Simon, wandering in a labyrinth of jealousy, suspicions, half-clues and lies.When a great filmmaker films a great book, it is instructive to note what she has left out as much as she leaves in. 'La Prisonniere' (why the name change?) is the fifth book in Proust's giant novel, but those thousands of pages of Proustian backstory are absent, the tortured obsession of the narrator with Albertine, his alarmed discovery of different sexualities (repressing his own?), his past (no madeleines here!), his desires, his art, his self-justifications. Indeed, where Ruiz's 'Le Temps Retrouve' is as close to Proustian FULLNESS as we are likely to get, 'La Captive' is Proust without the Proust. Set in a sort of timeless present (modern dress, period locations and mores), where Proust glides in a liberated chronology, 'La Captive' discards tastes, smells, music, comedy, society (no Charlus!), nature, time.Proust's 'La Captive' is on one level even more suffocating than this film, filled largely with the agonisings and imaginings in the head of one man who never leaves his room - are Simon's wanderings here mental peregrinations, explaining the film's air of unreality? About halfway through the book, the reader is given blessed relief with a 100-page musical soiree, which opens it from the private to the public, the analytic to the observational, the tragic to the comic. This is completely absent here, as Akerman goes for a relentless narrative of cat-and-mouse jealousy reminiscent of Chabrol's 'L'Enfer', pushed so solemnly that it eventually becomes comic.
Similarly, the underlying, organising motif of the book, music, linking the narrator's awareness and transcendence of his locale, his memories of his past, his ideals for art, and Albertine, are mostly gone, making the film much more austere, and also minimising Albertine/Ariane (one exception is the beautiful sequence where Albertine and a neighbour , both birds behind cages, sing 'Cosi Fan Tutti' (women are all like that - captives?) to each other from their balconies, a breath of fresh air in their stifling lives, from another tale (like 'Vertigo' of women subjected to dangerous and repressive male jealousy).It seems strange that Akerman should choose to follow Proust's narrative trajectory, emphasising mad male obsessiveness, rather than somehow rescuing Albertine, who is as indistinct here - as an ephemeral construct in Simon's mind - as in the book. Even her final gesture of liberation is denied, with the suggestion that Simon has killed her, his 'I' literally submerging her in the beach from which, in that opening video, she emerged.Akerman's procedures are very similar to those of d'Oliveira's 'La Lettre', another transposing of an alien past to modern dress, where the cultural codes are not adapted, and hence jar, making us ask questions about the director's seemingly capricious intentions. The incongruity between the glossy imagery and the austere narrative creates a compelling mystery beyond that of plot, also reminiscent of Phillipe Garrel's 'Le vent de la nuit'. Still, I'll take Proust or Ruiz anyday. Pseuds may be interested to know that one of the machinistes was a certain Christian Metz.
