‘Lola Montès’ or — Ecstatically Certifiable?
Lola Montès was a dancer and a courtesan who, in a scandal filled life, reportedly held the world record for the most number of lovers. Lola’s sexual conquests included everyone from Franz Liszt, conductor Claudio Pirotto and even King Ludwig I of Bavaria. Now she has been reduced (transfigured?) to a circus attraction, her entire life played out before enthralled crowds who can gorge on the sordid details of her escapades. She has broken men’s hearts, their reputations and even their kingdoms. Now is it her turn to fall? And are we allowed to watch? And, most importantly, what will happen to us if we do?
When Max Ophüls said he was going to shoot ‘Lola Montès’ (1955) in colour then somebody should’ve stopped him, and I mean wrestle him to the floor before he could get out the door stop him because this isn’t shooting in colour — this is chromatic abuse!
‘Lola Montès’ scandalised France upon its release and I can totally understand why and not for any reasons concerning sex or licentiousness (although the movie has plenty of that) but more for the beams of pigmented light being fired directly into the audiences’ faces. Were the cinemas of France filled with Parisians rolling about in the aisles, clutching their faces, blood streaming from their eye sockets as they screamed “ARRETEZ!!” at the projectionist? This movie is visually certifiable, and potentially lethal.
And it’s not just the artillery of violent hues bombarding you but the camera work, too, which feels like the work of some mad scientist. The entire film was a constant stream of brightly coloured trickery and illusions being sprayed into my pupils to the extent that I felt I was being given a golden shower by British TV magician Paul Daniels (is this how it felt being Debbie McGee?). It was almost all too much as I often found myself spluttering and gargling away for it to stop. This is because Ophüls has taken the artifice of the theatre and smashed it together against the voyeurism of cinema with incredible force to see what exotic particles can be created and fired into our retinas.
For example — notice the camera moves. They’re often incredibly simple and straight forward as the camera slowly pans left to right or vice versa. But because Ophüls has such meticulously and elaborately constructed sets, stages and scenery then a simple move can contain three, four, even six or SEVEN unique and distinct “shots” within a single pan. This means the composition and framing are constantly changing in mindboggling and shocking ways but viewed through a precise and steady eye. Good god, the balls of the guy! It’s like taking the work of Powell and Pressburger, Fellini and Visconti and merging them all together and even then you wouldn’t come close to what’s going on here.
This visual excess of ‘Lola Montès’ cannot be overstated; in fact I genuinely think it would impossible to do so. Take the scene where a painter has been commissioned to create a spectacular portrait of the lady, something to capture her beauty. Yet what the painter has painted is less visually elaborate than what he is actually being asked to paint before him. Not even Art itself can match the extravagance Ophüls is putting on display!
Of course, all this technical virtuosity comes at a price (it always does) and, for me that was emotional involvement. That’s not a surprise because it’s hard to care about something when you’re having a couple of kaleidoscopes shoved into your skull. Lola herself is less of a character and more of an abstract sexual force who moves through history and men’s lives. We spectate rather than connect and this is because of the devices of detachment Ophüls keeps using (notice how the frame artificially closes in for all moments of intimacy as though seen through a squinting viewfinder).
Although the film does reveal a heart towards the end and it seems to be concerned with aging, loss and if beauty can be captured. This could be why the King Ludwig section (wonderfully played by Anton Walbrook) was the most emotionally engaging for me, or was that just me projecting my own mortality onto this film? Again, another overwhelming wave came crashing over me. This could account for why I can’t call this “the most beautiful film ever made”, even though it might well be, because just as often I was sitting there in awe I was also often wanting to throw up my dinner from the excess of it all.
‘Lola Montès’ didn’t move me. It didn’t touch me. In fact, I’m not sure what it did to me but I needed a towel afterwards. But I will be revisiting it soon and possibly frequently. There’s just too much to take it in one go and I could watch it all again for that single, simple (it isn’t actually simple in ANY way!) shot of Lola walking to the undulating bow of the ship under a myriad of glistening stars. And if you think I’m being overly poetic just wait until you see the shot itself!
‘Lola Montès’ is a work of genius, but a crazed genius. It begs the question — “If Ophüls had made (if legally allowed to) another movie then what the hell would it have been like after this?”
The other question the film begs is even more interesting — If a cigarette can be a penis then what does that make a cigar? Lola knows the answer to that one.
