Eric Rohmer died... fuck you siccness cuz you don't know about him or the French New Wave.
Rant over bitches.
Eric Rohmer, a Leading Filmmaker of the French New Wave, Dies at
By DAVE KEHR
Published: January 11, 2010
Eric Rohmer, the French critic and filmmaker who was one of the founding figures of the French New Wave and the director of more than 50 films, including the Oscar-nominated “My Night at Maud’s,” died on Monday in Paris. He was 89.
Mr. Rohmer was most famous to audiences in the United States for “My Night at Maud’s” (with Françoise Fabian and Jean-Louis Trintignant, 1969). More Photos >
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His producer, Margaret Menegoz, confirmed his death, which took place at a Paris hospital, but provided no other details.
Aesthetically, Mr. Rohmer was perhaps the most conservative member of the New Wave, the internationally influential movement led by a group of aggressive young critics, among them Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut, who parlayed their writings for publications like Arts and Les Cahiers du Cinéma into careers as filmmakers beginning in the late 1950s.
A former novelist and teacher of French and German literature, Mr. Rohmer emphasized the spoken and written word in his films at a time when tastes — thanks in no small part to his own pioneering writing on Alfred Hitchcock and Howard Hawks — had begun to shift from literary adaptations to genre films grounded in strong visual styles.
In a statement Monday, President Nicolas Sarkozy of France said of Mr. Rohmer, “Classic and romantic, wise and iconoclastic, light and serious, sentimental and moralistic, he created the ‘Rohmer’ style, which will outlive him.”
Mr. Rohmer’s most famous film in America remains “My Night at Maud’s,” a 1969 black-and-white feature set in the grim industrial city of Clermont-Ferrand. It tells the story of a shy young engineer (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who passes a snowbound evening in the home of his best friend’s lover, an attractive, free-thinking divorcée (Françoise Fabian).
The conversation, filmed by Mr. Rohmer in a series of unobtrusively composed long takes, covers philosophy, religion and morality, and while the flow of words takes on a distinctly seductive subtext at times, the encounter ends without a physical consummation. But the pair form a bond that movingly re-emerges five years later, when they meet again in a brief postscript that closes the film.
“My Night at Maud’s” was the third title in his “Six Moral Tales,” a series of films that Mr. Rohmer began in 1963, though for economic reasons it was the fourth to be filmed. In each of the six films, a man who is married or committed to a woman finds himself tempted to stray but is ultimately able to resist. His films are as much about what does not happen between his characters as what does, a tendency that enchanted critics as often as it drove audience members to distraction.
“I saw a Rohmer movie once,” observes Gene Hackman’s character in Arthur Penn’s “Night Moves” (1975). “It was kind of like watching paint dry.”
On the set, Mr. Rohmer, tall, with piercing blue eyes, was a quiet, intensely absorbed director presiding over a hushed atmosphere, his crews and actors engaging in little of the chatter common on other film projects.
In his private life, Mr. Rohmer was reclusive if not secretive. “Eric Rohmer” was in fact a pseudonym, one of several that he experimented with early in his career. According to Who’s Who in France, he was born Maurice Henri Joseph Schérer in Tulle, a city in southwestern France, on March 21, 1920; other sources give his birth name as Jean-Marie Maurice Schérer and place his origins in the northeastern city of Nancy.
After publishing the novel “Elisabeth” under the name Gilbert Cordier, he moved to Paris in 1950 and began frequenting the ciné-clubs of the Latin Quarter, making the acquaintance of four other young cinephiles with whom his career would remain intertwined: Godard, Truffaut, Claude Chabrol and Jacques Rivette. With Mr. Rivette he founded a short-lived film magazine, La Revue du Cinéma. When that initiative collapsed after five issues, he joined the reviewing staff of Les Cahiers du Cinéma, a publication that acquired a fashionable notoriety for the violently iconoclastic reviews of the young Truffaut.
In 1952 Mr. Rohmer made his first attempt to direct a feature film, to be titled “Les Petites Filles Modèles,” but the project was abandoned when its producer declared bankruptcy. No footage is known to exist. Not until his Cahiers colleagues began to enjoy a measure of success as filmmakers — the term Nouvelle Vague (New Wave) was coined by a journalist for L’Express in 1957 — was Mr. Rohmer able to mount another long-form production. But “Le Signe du Lion” (“The Sign of Leo,” 1959), a moody tale of an American expatriate who finds himself down and out in Paris, did not capture the public imagination the way Truffaut’s “400 Blows” and Godard’s “Breathless” did, and Mr. Rohmer returned to editing Cahiers, a job he held until 1963.
His real breakthrough came in 1962 with the 26-minute short “La Boulangère de Monceau” (“The Bakery Girl of Monceau”). Filmed in 16-millimeter black and white, it was the first of the “Six Moral Tales,” based on fictional sketches he had written, he later said, long before he dreamed of becoming a filmmaker.
After a second short film, “La Carrière de Suzanne“ (“Suzanne’s Career,” 1963), Mr. Rohmer returned to the feature-length format with “La Collectionneuse” (“The Collector,” 1967), the fourth episode of the series but the third to be filmed. The story of a young woman (Haydée Politoff) who systematically collects lovers, the film won the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival and restored Mr. Rohmer’s place in the front rank of the New Wave. The series continued with three more features: “My Night at Maud’s,” “Claire’s Knee” (1970) and “Chloe in the Afternoon” (1972).
After experimenting with two stylized period films, “The Marquise of O... ” (1976) and “Percival le Gallois” (1978), Mr. Rohmer initiated a new series, “Comedies and Proverbs,” in 1981 with “La Femme de l’Aviateur” (“The Aviator’s Wife”). The six films in this group illustrated traditional sayings or quotations from celebrated authors, from La Fontaine to Rimbaud, were largely built around the flirtations and fickle emotions of young people, and incorporated, notably in “Le Rayon Vert” (“Summer,” 1986), a new element of improvisation.
Mr. Rohmer undertook a final series, “Tales of the Four Seasons,” with “Conte de Printemps” (“The Spring Tale”) in 1990, this time providing a philosophical love story for each season of the year. The series ended with the exquisite “Conte d’Automne” in 1998, in which Mr. Rohmer moved beyond his focus on youth to tell a movingly autumnal story of a widow (Béatrice Romand) with a teenage son who finds love in an unexpected place.
Mr. Rohmer’s late career found him moving happily among small projects for television (including “L’Arbre, le Maire et la Médiathèque,” or “The Tree, the Mayor and the Mediathèque,” 1993), an early experiment with digital technology (“The Lady and the Duke,” 2001), and a true-life spy story (“Triple Agent,” 2004). His final theatrical film was the 2007 “Astrée and Céladon,” a retelling of a 17th-century love story with magical overtones, filmed in a self-consciously academic style that suggested the paintings of Poussin and Fragonard.
Among his survivors is a younger brother, the philosopher René Schérer. His producer, Ms. Menegoz, said Mr. Rohmer was also survived by his wife and two sons, but she declined to reveal their names. “You understand he was very intent on keeping his personal and professional life separate from each other,” she said.
In opposition both to the intensely personal, confessional tone of much of the work of Truffaut and to the politically provocative films of Godard, Mr. Rohmer remained true to a restrained, rationalist aesthetic, close to the principles of the 18th-century thinkers whose words he frequently cited in his movies. And yet Mr. Rohmer’s work was warmed by an undercurrent of romanticism and erotic yearning, made perhaps all the more affecting for never quite breaking through the surface of his elegant, orderly films.
Nadim Audi contributed reporting from Paris.
Rant over bitches.
Eric Rohmer, a Leading Filmmaker of the French New Wave, Dies at
By DAVE KEHR
Published: January 11, 2010
Eric Rohmer, the French critic and filmmaker who was one of the founding figures of the French New Wave and the director of more than 50 films, including the Oscar-nominated “My Night at Maud’s,” died on Monday in Paris. He was 89.
Mr. Rohmer was most famous to audiences in the United States for “My Night at Maud’s” (with Françoise Fabian and Jean-Louis Trintignant, 1969). More Photos >
Enlarge This Image
His producer, Margaret Menegoz, confirmed his death, which took place at a Paris hospital, but provided no other details.
Aesthetically, Mr. Rohmer was perhaps the most conservative member of the New Wave, the internationally influential movement led by a group of aggressive young critics, among them Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut, who parlayed their writings for publications like Arts and Les Cahiers du Cinéma into careers as filmmakers beginning in the late 1950s.
A former novelist and teacher of French and German literature, Mr. Rohmer emphasized the spoken and written word in his films at a time when tastes — thanks in no small part to his own pioneering writing on Alfred Hitchcock and Howard Hawks — had begun to shift from literary adaptations to genre films grounded in strong visual styles.
In a statement Monday, President Nicolas Sarkozy of France said of Mr. Rohmer, “Classic and romantic, wise and iconoclastic, light and serious, sentimental and moralistic, he created the ‘Rohmer’ style, which will outlive him.”
Mr. Rohmer’s most famous film in America remains “My Night at Maud’s,” a 1969 black-and-white feature set in the grim industrial city of Clermont-Ferrand. It tells the story of a shy young engineer (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who passes a snowbound evening in the home of his best friend’s lover, an attractive, free-thinking divorcée (Françoise Fabian).
The conversation, filmed by Mr. Rohmer in a series of unobtrusively composed long takes, covers philosophy, religion and morality, and while the flow of words takes on a distinctly seductive subtext at times, the encounter ends without a physical consummation. But the pair form a bond that movingly re-emerges five years later, when they meet again in a brief postscript that closes the film.
“My Night at Maud’s” was the third title in his “Six Moral Tales,” a series of films that Mr. Rohmer began in 1963, though for economic reasons it was the fourth to be filmed. In each of the six films, a man who is married or committed to a woman finds himself tempted to stray but is ultimately able to resist. His films are as much about what does not happen between his characters as what does, a tendency that enchanted critics as often as it drove audience members to distraction.
“I saw a Rohmer movie once,” observes Gene Hackman’s character in Arthur Penn’s “Night Moves” (1975). “It was kind of like watching paint dry.”
On the set, Mr. Rohmer, tall, with piercing blue eyes, was a quiet, intensely absorbed director presiding over a hushed atmosphere, his crews and actors engaging in little of the chatter common on other film projects.
In his private life, Mr. Rohmer was reclusive if not secretive. “Eric Rohmer” was in fact a pseudonym, one of several that he experimented with early in his career. According to Who’s Who in France, he was born Maurice Henri Joseph Schérer in Tulle, a city in southwestern France, on March 21, 1920; other sources give his birth name as Jean-Marie Maurice Schérer and place his origins in the northeastern city of Nancy.
After publishing the novel “Elisabeth” under the name Gilbert Cordier, he moved to Paris in 1950 and began frequenting the ciné-clubs of the Latin Quarter, making the acquaintance of four other young cinephiles with whom his career would remain intertwined: Godard, Truffaut, Claude Chabrol and Jacques Rivette. With Mr. Rivette he founded a short-lived film magazine, La Revue du Cinéma. When that initiative collapsed after five issues, he joined the reviewing staff of Les Cahiers du Cinéma, a publication that acquired a fashionable notoriety for the violently iconoclastic reviews of the young Truffaut.
In 1952 Mr. Rohmer made his first attempt to direct a feature film, to be titled “Les Petites Filles Modèles,” but the project was abandoned when its producer declared bankruptcy. No footage is known to exist. Not until his Cahiers colleagues began to enjoy a measure of success as filmmakers — the term Nouvelle Vague (New Wave) was coined by a journalist for L’Express in 1957 — was Mr. Rohmer able to mount another long-form production. But “Le Signe du Lion” (“The Sign of Leo,” 1959), a moody tale of an American expatriate who finds himself down and out in Paris, did not capture the public imagination the way Truffaut’s “400 Blows” and Godard’s “Breathless” did, and Mr. Rohmer returned to editing Cahiers, a job he held until 1963.
His real breakthrough came in 1962 with the 26-minute short “La Boulangère de Monceau” (“The Bakery Girl of Monceau”). Filmed in 16-millimeter black and white, it was the first of the “Six Moral Tales,” based on fictional sketches he had written, he later said, long before he dreamed of becoming a filmmaker.
After a second short film, “La Carrière de Suzanne“ (“Suzanne’s Career,” 1963), Mr. Rohmer returned to the feature-length format with “La Collectionneuse” (“The Collector,” 1967), the fourth episode of the series but the third to be filmed. The story of a young woman (Haydée Politoff) who systematically collects lovers, the film won the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival and restored Mr. Rohmer’s place in the front rank of the New Wave. The series continued with three more features: “My Night at Maud’s,” “Claire’s Knee” (1970) and “Chloe in the Afternoon” (1972).
After experimenting with two stylized period films, “The Marquise of O... ” (1976) and “Percival le Gallois” (1978), Mr. Rohmer initiated a new series, “Comedies and Proverbs,” in 1981 with “La Femme de l’Aviateur” (“The Aviator’s Wife”). The six films in this group illustrated traditional sayings or quotations from celebrated authors, from La Fontaine to Rimbaud, were largely built around the flirtations and fickle emotions of young people, and incorporated, notably in “Le Rayon Vert” (“Summer,” 1986), a new element of improvisation.
Mr. Rohmer undertook a final series, “Tales of the Four Seasons,” with “Conte de Printemps” (“The Spring Tale”) in 1990, this time providing a philosophical love story for each season of the year. The series ended with the exquisite “Conte d’Automne” in 1998, in which Mr. Rohmer moved beyond his focus on youth to tell a movingly autumnal story of a widow (Béatrice Romand) with a teenage son who finds love in an unexpected place.
Mr. Rohmer’s late career found him moving happily among small projects for television (including “L’Arbre, le Maire et la Médiathèque,” or “The Tree, the Mayor and the Mediathèque,” 1993), an early experiment with digital technology (“The Lady and the Duke,” 2001), and a true-life spy story (“Triple Agent,” 2004). His final theatrical film was the 2007 “Astrée and Céladon,” a retelling of a 17th-century love story with magical overtones, filmed in a self-consciously academic style that suggested the paintings of Poussin and Fragonard.
Among his survivors is a younger brother, the philosopher René Schérer. His producer, Ms. Menegoz, said Mr. Rohmer was also survived by his wife and two sons, but she declined to reveal their names. “You understand he was very intent on keeping his personal and professional life separate from each other,” she said.
In opposition both to the intensely personal, confessional tone of much of the work of Truffaut and to the politically provocative films of Godard, Mr. Rohmer remained true to a restrained, rationalist aesthetic, close to the principles of the 18th-century thinkers whose words he frequently cited in his movies. And yet Mr. Rohmer’s work was warmed by an undercurrent of romanticism and erotic yearning, made perhaps all the more affecting for never quite breaking through the surface of his elegant, orderly films.
Nadim Audi contributed reporting from Paris.
