Eric Rohmer’s ‘The Green Ray’.
(No spoilers)
Eric Rohmer’s ‘Le Rayon Vert’ (The Green Ray — 1986) is now my favourite of all of the French director’s films I’ve seen so far and, in typical Rohmer fashion, it is seemingly about nothing and what it is about is, potentially, annoying.
The story concerns Delphine, a young Parisian woman who has not long broken up with her boyfriend. Not only that but her girlfriend can’t make the holiday they were going to take together meaning Delphine must either go alone (something this shy woman dreads) or stay in Paris for the long, hot summer. Taking some rather forcefully given advice by “friends” she goes on holiday with a friend and her group, but that doesn’t work out and Delphine returns home, then she goes on holiday by herself, but that doesn’t work out and she returns home, and then goes on holiday again… and that’s it.
I’ve noticed that some people have said that Delphine is an annoying character, what with her strict vegetarian diet, social awkwardness and lack of self-worth and that she just “needs a good shake” leaving me thankful these people talk about movies and didn’t become therapists or counsellors instead. Sure, Delphine is sad but doesn’t everyone contain sadness inside them? And yes, Delphine is so light and airy (at one point she says she likes to “aerate myself”) that she seems in almost constant danger of floating away and that it maybe isn’t love or hope she is looking for but just a decent sandwich. But annoying and pathetic? Absolutely not. I found myself immediately empathising and relating with her… and I eat meat, am socially adept and think I’m fantastic (or, at least, I have my moments). Yet we are all looking for something; faith, meaning, direction, ourselves, whatever and can be stricken to our very being by the ache of simply being alive and needing genuine contact, and if you think you aren’t then you’re kidding yourself… or just one of the lucky ones so in that case, bravo you!
There are several outstanding sequences in Rohmer’s film and they very much centre around Delphine and her exposed, raw heart; two of them involving Delphine having to defend herself against friends bullying her for her single-status or the fact she’s a vegetarian. Two others occur at the beach, near the ocean. Bathers are waiting for the waves to come in, allowing themselves to be lifted-up by the giant breakers as Delphine looks on transfixed and we are not quite sure if it is the sense of inclusive fun she is longing for or if she is hypnotised by the turquoise surf and the vast, elemental power behind it. It is one of the few moments in Rohmer where it is the sound that dominates and I found myself almost overwhelmed by the oceanic force and beauty beating down over everything and a deep longing to let go into the buoyant deluge. Afterwards I found I had been crying.
The other is a captivating sequence where Delphine eavesdrops on some friendly academic types talking about Jules Verne’s ‘The Green Ray’, a story about… well… I really don’t want to spoil it. Interspersed with shots of a setting Sun that, again, feels like it is almost calling to us it is dazzling in both terms of vision and the thought behind it.
This is also my favourite Rohmer film because I find it his most beautiful and at times (many times), it is shockingly beautiful. Not only are the images presented gorgeous but it is also how they are used, what meaning might be held within them waiting to be fleetingly glimpsed and discovered. Near the start Delphine refers to a green sign and how the colour green will be important to her and suddenly our eyes are drawn to everything verdant — notice how the colour immediately pulls our attention down the street, by isolated fragments, towards the vanishing point. It is a stunning shot and I can’t figure out how much was planned. Knowing Rohmer and his use of colour I’m tempted to say, unlike the improvised script, “a lot”. Likewise there are shots of incredibly complex composition and deceptive naturalism: sails of boats cluster and bloom against blue skies as human figures glide amongst them. There is so much to look at and take in and it seems so effortless, nowhere more so than on the crowded beach raising the obvious question — why isn’t everyone looking at the camera?! This effortless effect is of truly being dropped into someone’s life.
And the ending? Obviously I’m not going to say anything about it. It’s something you have to look for and find for yourself, if you’re lucky. But I know the question driving that search as we look at the Sun in desperate hope — can I know myself enough to be able to love?
