THE TESTAMENT OF ORPHEUS Review Part II
Edouard Dhermitte, Jean Cocteau in The Testament of Orpheus
Oh my, how poets suffer! It seems that the Orpheus characters, Death (Maria Casarès — who did not age well; she actually resembles Vampira from Plan 9 from Outer Space) and Heurtebise (François Périer), resent being conjured by the magic of a poet, and want to try Cocteau for his sins. Of course, his sin is not sinning, and his sentence is being condemned to live — a wistful thought for the then seventy-year-old Cocteau, whose own real life son Edouard Dhermitte reprises his role as the poet Cégeste from Orpheus.
The whole trial scene plays out like a retarded ‘lost’ episode from the classic 1967 surreal British television series The Prisoner, though I longed for the giant white balloon Rover to bounce into frame and smother Cocteau and his dreadful cast. Naturally, Cocteau’s acting is as atrocious as his writing. All he does is wander about in a stupor — and so do all the leftovers from Orpheus.
Rather than have characters say brilliant things offhandedly, Cocteau gives each of them ample opportunity to preen banalities as if they were insightful. Luckily, the one ‘old trick’ he used in earlier films — the mirror as a pool — is not used here. We are told that mirrors ‘reflect too much,’ though making actors appear and disappear seems to rival his penchant for reverse cinematography — such as reconstructing a flower, reassembling a burnt photo from a fire, or having the poet Cégeste leap up from the ocean to the cliffside where Cocteau stands.
In a sense, one might argue that this film has some deep points to make. It could do so, were it not so poorly presented. A dozen years later, the Kurt Vonnegut novel Slaughterhouse Five hit the big screen, with its hero, Billy Pilgrim, also ‘unstuck in time’ and going through similar adventures to Cocteau’s. However, that film — while hardly great — is leagues above The Testament of Orpheus because it mixes naturalism and character development with absurdity and satire.
Had it a modicum of humor, The Testament of Orpheus could have mined similar veins, but Cocteau is so self-important that the opportunity withers away. He would rather sprinkle his film with pointless cameos by his famous friends, including Pablo Picasso, Brigitte Bardot, Roger Vadim, Charles Aznavour, and Yul Brynner — and then come up with an alibi for their presence at film’s end by stating, ‘You may notice many well-known people have appeared in this film. They were chosen not because they are famous but because they suited the part and because they are my friends.’ Well, that may explain their equally dreadful acting, but it does not cleanse the artistic sin.
Interestingly, The Testament of Orpheus did come out the same year as Plan 9 from Outer Space, Ed Wood’s infamous production that was so atrocious it was actually funny. Ironically, having seen a handful of Wood films, I would have to say that Cocteau is actually the worse filmmaker precisely because his films are so pompous and dry. One need only look at the scene where Cocteau — who was gay — has two buff young men in one-piece bathing suits, play the two halves of a dog, with one man holding the other’s rump close enough so he could sniff it. It’s an absurd and pointless scene conjured up only so Cocteau could yank himself during editing. But it could have been played for laughs, and to good effect, with a better director.
Cocteau was a huge influence on the Warhol Factory films that were just kicking into gear, but let it be known that Andy Warhol was far closer to Ed Wood than to Jean Cocteau in his sensibilities. There is also one moment of color in the black-and-white The Testament of Orpheus: a red flower and blood — a scene that obviously inspired Steven Spielberg’s horrid Schindler’s List and its brutally heavyhanded symbolism of the young girl’s red coat.
The DVD, like the two others in the trilogy, has no commentary track. It only offers an overlong (35 minutes) and mostly silent 1952 home movie (in color) called La Villa Santo Sospir, in which Cocteau shows off his life and home. Also included are a few short essays and a poem in the insert, and a longer essay on the disc. But, given Criterion’s high reputation in the DVD field, at least a commentary track should have been offered.
The Testament of Orpheus is the least embarrassing of the Orphic Trilogy films, but it still does not rise above the sci-fi schlock of the 1950s flicks that often had bold premises, but failed in the technical and acting areas. In fact, The Testament of Orpheus is not even bold. It’s puerile and trite, while Cocteau is an embarrassment to all real poets.
Roland Pontoizeau’s cinematography is framed poorly, while Georges Auric’s music is often woefully inappropriate. Had Cocteau actually been a real artist, this film, and perhaps the whole trilogy and all of his canon might have become intriguing glimpses into meta-film, decades before the twin banes of Abstract Expressionism and Postmodernism dulled contemporary painting and literature. In terms of depth, narrative twists, and real characterizations, even Charlie Kaufman’s often repetitive screenplays are leagues ahead of Cocteau’s garbage.
Cocteau was a jack of all arts and a master of none. He was a narcissistic walking cliché. I tire of apologists for this sort of bad art, always trying to claim that a terrible work of art is simply ‘too deep’ to be properly critiqued. While truly great art has often been dismissed by bad critics, that is not the case with The Testament of Orpheus. Its premises and claims are easily seen through, for they are shallow. And that is what kills it as a film. One can only wonder what part they had in Cocteau’s own demise.
© Dan Schneider
Note: The views expressed in this article are those of Mr. Schneider, and they may not reflect the views of the Alternative Film Guide.
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Tags: Classic Movies, Criterion Collection, DVDs, Film Reviews, Gay Interest, Jean Cocteau, Le Testament d'Orphée, María Casarès, The Testament of Orpheus
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