Ορφέας και Ευρυδίκη

nora3.0

a poet LITERALLY falling in love with death? the frenchest thing that has ever happened

RupertKnoll4.0

It would make sense that everybody speaks french in hell

Mike D'Angelo4.0

80/100Cocteau understands dreams, and he also understands how certain effects can be transporting even if they're transparent. The journey to the underworld, for example, plainly has Heurtebise standing motionless before a rear-projected, moving Orpheus, but knowing that doesn't make it seem any less uncanny. (Equally great: Orpheus asking Heurtebise why the latter's hair is blowing around when there's no wind, and being told it's a stupid question.) The oneiric quality beautifully serves Cocteau's inspired reinterpretation of the myth, in which one of the most powerful love stories of all time instead becomes a portrait of the artist's obsession with death, viewed through the rubble of WWII. As with Beauty and the Beast, my only quibble, though a significant one, is with the ending, which gets imposed by authorial fiat rather than emerging naturally from events. As María Casares plays her, there's no chance in hell Death would make that sacrifice—it's a wish-fulfillment fantasy that undermines the film's mostly self-destructive impulses. But a little cowardice is a small price to pay for so much otherworldly beauty. Even simple ideas like Orpheus putting on the magic rubber gloves in reverse, or the color of Death's dress changing with her mood*, instill a genuine sense of uneasy wonder.* An underutilized concept in general. The only other example I can think of is The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Lover, in which costumes change from room to room.