We regret that the strength deployed by Jessica Palud to show the other side of the filming of the sordid rape scene – and what led her there – gradually fades away in favor of a botched, although moving, narration.
Her name was Maria Schneider. An illegitimate daughter, rejected by her mother for wanting to join the “official” tribe of her father, the actor Daniel Gélin, the teenager very early understood the world of cinema as a second host family, inexorably close and inaccessible to that time. She entered through the front door, but ultimately not as an actress, a label which was immediately refused to her, because, by agreeing to shoot for Bertolucci’s licentious film, she was immediately lumped in with his character, to the sexuality he conveyed. Raped on the set, she will be considered the un-woman, rejected, again and endlessly, by the spectators and the leagues of virtue. Weary of war, and for having been too absorbed in relieving the suffering induced by this founding destruction, she will end up fading behind yet another label, that of the rebel of French cinema, constellating her journey with a few jewels, an Antonioni and a Rivette in particular, as if to prove himself and remind us that the star was not just shooting.
“The description of the filming of Last Tango, filmed as a dance no longer macabre but toxic, which it really was, a co-constructed fantasy of males who shared power”
God, she was moving and fighting, Maria Schneider. God, we wish we loved the film as much as we admire the real one, which was capable of immediately establishing a connection with the damaged part of our beings. As in the consentwhich the film often brings to mind, the choice to privilege the narration, both linear and conceived as a succession of key moments, if it guarantees an edifying and useful pedagogy, is made to the detriment of the depth of introspection as well as the vertigo of contemplation. Anamaria Vartolomei, who does not disgrace herself by running after the destiny of her character whose description is increasingly botched, alternates between an affectation sometimes close to mincing and moments of impressive – but fleeting – intensity.
https://www.whatsupdoc-lemag.fr/diaporama/les-10-films-quil-ne-fallait-pas-rater-en-2023-notre-palmares
The essential remains achieved: the description of the filming of Last Tangofilmed as a dance that is no longer macabre but toxic, which is what it really was, a co-constructed fantasy of males who shared power for probably very different reasons, in a pact that will produce a sacrificial victim. The rape scene, under the stupefied gaze of the entire crew, echoing that of the dinner where condescending good society will endorse the upcoming ceremony under the guise of disapproval, is chilling. Matt Dillon, very credible as a slumped Brando, whispers his nauseating maxim, chilling in its illustrative dimension: ” children will be educated until they have learned to lie”. From then on, there is not much more to add. Perhaps this is why Jessica Palud seems to have had so much trouble continuing.
