Le Beau Serge
- filmscreed
- Jan 8, 2015
- 6 min read
It was Thomas Wolfe who wrote “You can never go home again.” That line came to my mind as I watched Le Beau Serge, Claude Chabrol’s ode to coming back to a place you knew as a child. The French village of Sardent was a frequent vacation home for Chabrol as a child, and it is impossible not to think that there are a couple of levels to the films message – There is what happens to the characters, but in some ways, it is also about the director, and how he has changed from the young boy who used to play in this very village.
The film begins, as Chabrol films usually do, with an idyllic setting by water. In this case it’s a peaceful little stream out in the country. The peace is broken by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Then, we see the vehicle – a bus. In this very subtle way, Chabrol has already laid out the story for us – A tranquil setting, an invasion from outside. The music over the opening credits is also ominous, and adds to the sense of unease.
The bus is bringing Francois (Jean-Claude Brialy) to Sardent. Francois grew up in the village, but has been gone for 12 years, living in Paris. He’s back for rest and to try to recover from tuberculosis. At first, everything seems fine, as he is greeted by an old friend, and an elderly woman who he knows. When his bags are unloaded from the top of the bus, however, the camera suddenly captures two men on the ground, and the soundtrack strikes an ominous chord. Chabrol is transparent here about signifying that these two men are cause for alarm, but it immediately becomes clear that the younger man is Serge (Gerard Blain), Francois’ best friend from their youth.
The early passages of the film, after Francois arrives in town, are spent in establishing Serge, and what has happened to him. Francois remembers his friend as a bright young man who seemed destined to become a lawyer. Now, he is an alcoholic truck driver locked in an unhappy marriage, and with a baby on the way. Francois also learns that Serge had a previous baby who died at childbirth and had Down’s Syndrome. That appears to be the thing that sent Serge down the skids. He also seems to take it as a given that the current pregnancy will have the same result, and the level of cruelty that he directs at his wife Yvonne (Michele Meritz) is alarming. He calls her fat-ass, and in talking about the baby, refers to it as a “mongoloid” and makes crude caricature faces to imitate it. Clearly, this man has a lot of anger inside.
Francois also develops a love interest in Yvonne’s younger sister Marie (Bernadette Lafont). Marie is a sexually confident 17 year- old, and when she first sees Francois, there is no question as to what she wants from him. Lafont plays the girl as a pure coquet, and she embodies this role with a lot of sexy glances and bit lower lips. This aspect may seem played up a bit strongly, but it is imperative that she be seen as an object of desire.
Marie lives with her father Glomaud (Edmond Beauchamp), who is a drinking buddy of Serge, and the second man that we saw beside the bus at the beginning. He is a hopeless alcoholic, and Marie appears to stay with him in order to look after him. She also tells Francois about the town gossip regarding her and Gloumaud – That he may not be her father.
It’s not stretching things to suggest that Chabrol is treating Francois like a quasi-Christ figure. He is introduced into this environment of broken people, and he feels it is his duty to try to help. Serge even laughingly tells Francois at one point “You think you’re Jesus!” The genius of LBS, however, is that Francois is never sure of what he should be doing. Early in the film, he visits the village priest. Here is where we find out that Francois is kind of adrift in his life. The priest remarks that at one time he wanted to be a priest, and Francois laughs and says “That passed.” Also notable in this scene is that as Francois enters the church, there are only a handful of people there. The priest alludes to it; there are only 6 people – all old ladies. This scene reinforces to Francois that life in the village is crumbling.
I think this scene is linked to Francois’ decision to try to help Serge. Francois may not even be aware that he has made the decision, but he has. He repeatedly tracks Serge down, and tries to get him to open up about his life. For all his noble intentions, however, Francois’ actions don’t have the desired results. Yvonne thinks that Francois blames her for Serge’s predicament. Serge thinks that Francois’ concern means that his life is a mess, which takes him even further down the road to destruction. Francois suggests to Serge that he leave Yvonne. Francois thus becomes a sort of misguided messiah.
One day, as Francois sits in a café, he is accosted by a drunken Glaumoud. The old man is furious that Francois is with his daughter, and rages “She is only 17!”, and suggests that Francois has had sex with her (He has). Francois tries to brush him off, but ultimately Glaumond is right in his face. He confronts him saying “She is my daughter – say it!”, and Francois tragically says “You know she isn’t.” The old man’s triumph at hearing this is a bit troubling, as he is acting like he has been released from something that was holding him back. It doesn’t matter to Glaumoud that Francois couldn’t possibly know the truth. He just wanted to hear someone say to his face what people had undoubtedly been saying in private for years. This sexy young girl who lives in the same house is not his daughter.
The implications of this scene are fairly plain, and when Francois goes to see Marie, he finds her sobbing on her bed. I am struck by her reply to Francois “He slithered in like a snake.” There are a couple of different ways to interpret this line. The first and most obvious is that Glaumaud used his familiarity to rape her. In the DVD extras, Chabrol admits that the line is also an illusion to the fact that Glaumaud is an old man, and the snake metaphor can be taken as a reference to a lack of potency. There is another, somewhat more obscure, reference, and that is to the Garden of Eden, where a snake disrupts a peaceful setting. In this case, Francois is the one who sets the events in motion that lead to Marie’s rape. He can be seen as the snake.
Late in the film, there is a pivotal meeting in the woods between Francois and Yvonne. Francois had previously regarded her as a shrew who had messed up her friend’s life, and she says as much to him. Francois owns up to this, and admits that he had tried to get Serge to dump her, but says “He set me straight about you.” It’s in this scene where Chabrol reveals that Yvonne is the one truly good person in all this. She talks about her unborn child, and says that she knows it will be born healthy and normal, despite what everyone else says. She also says that she still loves Serge despite the pain he causes her. She loves without condition, and seeing this is a turning point for Francois.
The culmination of the film is a blizzardy night when Yvonnes child is born. Serge is off drunk somewhere, so it is left to Francois to handle things. The doctor is tending to Glaumout, and refuses to leave him in distress. The old man insists the doctor leave him, and this can be seen as his attempt at penance for the rape. Maria is with Glaumaut during this, and the dynamic amongst the three characters is curious. She gives Francois a look that is imbued with defiance, coldness, even hate. It was Francois who set her father on her. Despite all that, she stays with the old man to look after him, as a daughter would.
The conclusion, as Francois literally drags the drunken Serge to the birth of his child, is brilliantly shot by cinematographer Raoul Coutard and cameraman Jean Rabier. The scene is shot in stark blackness, only illuminated by Francois’ flashlight, and this tableau is a metaphor for Francois trying to pull his friend out of the darkness. Francois has to know that the effort of dragging a man during a cold snowy night will kill him, but he needs to deliver Serge back to his family. That sacrifice is his absolution.
The Thomas Wolfe quote that opens this piece alludes to the fact that places change, and people change, and that those changes cannot be avoided. Francois is completely well-meaning in what he tries to do for the people he grew up with, but change can’t always be guided. It goes where it will, best intentions be damned. Thomas Wolfe had something to say about that, as well.
“He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had found out about them as one has to find out – Through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through being mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused.”
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