About two or three weeks ago, I watched Betty Blue for the first time. I had been wanting to watch the movie for quite a while, and with my folks off to Doha visiting my sister I thought I'd have a Saturday night in with the dog.
Betty Blue, or 37° 2 le matin (37.2°C in the morning), based on the 1985 novel by Philippe Dijan, directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix, starring Jean-Hughes Anglade as Zorg and Béatrice Dalle in the titular role of Betty, was a sensation upon initial release in 1986, both domestically and internationally. In France, it was the eighth highest-grossing film of the year, receiving both BAFTA and Oscar nominations for Best Foreign Language Film. It also entered the-then contemporary eighties zeitgeist. A key part of the Cinéma Du Look film movement, Beineix, who, along with his previous features Diva and Moon In The Gutter, had experience in making advertisements, and went away from some of the realist traditions of La Nouvelle Vague (The New Wave), the film being marketed upon the stylised, picaresque cinematography, particularly in relation to lead actor Béatrice Dalle, who makes her acting debut and came from a modelling background. Also, with a fair amount of onscreen nudity, the film was simultaneously praised and decried for it's depiction of eroticism. Notably in the latter camp, the late Roger Ebert stated in his original review upon theatrical release in the Chicago Sun-Times that, "Love is not the same thing as nudity. This may seem obvious, but I feel it ought to be explained to director Jean-Jacques Beineix," (Roger Ebert, December 25, 1986) going on to write that the film was negative throwback to the days of 'skin flicks' before the advent of pornography.
In 2001, Beineix would re-visit Betty Blue fifteen years after it's initial theatrical release to put together a 'version intégrale' of the film, adding roughly an hour's worth of extra footage cut from the theatrical release. On principle I am generally against there being multiple cuts of the same film. In some cases it has enabled filmmakers to realise their true visions post-hence, but more often than not it is a marketing ploy and is to be taken with a pinch of salt. I am of the Martin Scorsese school of thought in that regard. There has always been a question surrounding the great director and his truncated epic Gangs Of New York, which had the producing weight of then-powerhouse Harvey Weinstein demanding cuts to it's length, and whether or not another version of the film should be released. Rumours abound that a three-hour plus workprint did exist and was circulated among Scorsese's friends, but both regular editor-collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker and Scorsese himself have dismissed any plans of a prospective director's cut, "Marty doesn't believe in that... He believes in showing only the finished film." (Thelma Schoonmaker, from Jeffrey Wells', 'Hollywood Elsewhere: Gangs vs. Gangs', October 26, 2007). Anyway, as the 2013 Second Sight DVD I possess features both the original theatrical release and the version intégrale, I decided if I am going to watch one version I would rather watch the director's preferred cut.
I was very impressed by the picture, and I have not been able to get it out of my head since. As perhaps expected from a key figure of the Cinéma Du Look, often grouped alongside the likes of Luc Besson and Leos Carax, it does, indeed, look the part. Jean-François Robin shot a gorgeous looking film, particularly in the opening segment. The score by Gabriel Yared, which I have listened to compulsively while I'm working at the desk of late, is a collection of highly and sparsely textured pieces, diametrically opposed in many ways, a mixture of electronic synths and guitars, string sections, chorus', saxophone, and a simple piano duet. It's a diverse and layered work from a composer who would later go on to become one of the most celebrated in contemporary cinema. Also, I think there is a bold and challenging authorial intent from writer-director Beineix. While often described as an erotic film, I wouldn't hasten to describe it as such. There are elements of eroticism, but I feel it more resembles naturalism, and in a sense part of what I feel his intent to be is to depict the complexity(s) of romantic relationships. What struck me most though was the strength, courage and conviction of the lead performances. Jean-Hughes Anglade is a sympathetic and humorous protagonist in Zorg, who is an aspiring writer, which is something I can certainly relate to, while Béatrice Dalle creates one of the great onscreen characters in Betty; wild, tempestuous, sensual, inspiring, engaging, and tragic. There's something to be said about how unforced and authentic Betty feels to watch onscreen, flashing a big grin in delight or pouting in displeasure. It's a performance of many little things, and very subtle in terms of the progression she makes over the course of the film. Dalle and Anglade share a palpable onscreen chemistry that is often aimed for but, alas, rarely achieved.
That being said, while I thought it to be a great film, I didn't deem it to be a masterpiece. I was fascinated by the picture, and I knew there was something in there. I just felt that there was something missing, a deep flaw in the overall fabric of the piece, not just something that could be fixed or eradicated with a minor change. For the first time in a while, I was troubled as to what I felt about a given work. Normally I have a fair idea right off the bat what I think, basing intellectual judgement upon initial, purely cerebral reactions, and generally my opinions remain fairly concrete. A notable exception to that rule is Alfonso Cuarón's Children Of Men, but Betty Blue had me in a fix. Then I got to thinking of a film of a similar vein, Fatih Akın's 2004 film Head-On (Gegen die Wand), a personal favourite and another picture I would categorise under the sub-heading of 'Bad Romance' films, depicting impossible relationships (a genre-based theory I've long held and should probably write about some day). Head-On was/is, in my opinion, a lot more focused and channeled a picture, and while I would not make it common practice to always hold one film against another, rather judge them by their own merit, I knew instantly what the problem with Betty Blue was:
it was simply too damn long! While this is clearly part of the authorial intent, I felt that there was a lot of material which was superfluous to the true focus of the story, Betty and Zorg. There were scenes that distracted and took me away from what it was doing right, were tonally too much of an opposing force to get my head around. Not that I'm a humourless dullard, but I really did not need all these comedic scenes involving minor characters who served no purpose to the narrative or, in some cases, detracted from it. Without giving away any spoilers, there is a highly charged dramatic scene a large part of the way through the film involving Betty and Zorg, which had me there, hook-line-and-sinker, until the untimely intervention of certain agencies. It pulled me out of the moment and actually made me rather cross and go, "why am I wasting my time with these idiots when I only care about Betty and Zorg?" I wasn't keeping count, but I would say there were at least half a dozen of these infuriating instances which did nothing but eat up screen-time and threaten to turn it into a snoozefest, regardless of whether or not I was supping a tin of Monster energy drink!
But I had been bitten by the bug. Betty Blue entranced me. I did some research online, and although much of what others think has little to no impugnment upon my own judgement, I scoured through Reddit forums and the like, and from the information I gathered it seemed to be fairly mixed in terms of which cut was considered superior: some preferred the theatrical release, others more so the version intégrale. There's an article I found on Movie-Censorship.com which does a wonderful scene-by-scene comparison of the two different versions corresponding to a rough parallel of their respective running times (definitely recommend checking out their website). So, for the first time in quite a while (the last was Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker, but that was more down to my being tired and having a poor lack of attention heading into watching such a great picture), as often I don't re-watch films for years apart, I decided to re-watch Betty Blue a few days later, only this time it was to be the theatrical cut.
I felt the narrative to be a lot leaner and cleaner. There are times whenever an artist is not necessarily the best judge of their own work. Just look at the difference between the theatrical release of Donnie Darko and Richard Kelly's Director's Cut of same said film. With an additional twenty minutes that took away from the fluidity of the original and questionable artistic changes (yes, I'm going give off about the iconic use of Echo And The Bunnymen's The Killing Moon being replaced by INXS' Never Tear Us Apart!), it's a worse film for the freedom he was granted. I will always say "artist first," but a second opinion is handy, and some people just need beaten with a stick and told to wise up (I'm looking at you, Quentin Tarantino!)! Anyway, Betty Blue's theatrical cut has a far better pace to it. It skims across like a stone across the surface of the water briskly, whereas at times the version intégrale trudges along rather sluggishly. The focus is far less on the bigger picture than the narrow. By proxy of artistic paradox this means that even it is on the surface smaller it is blown up to larger proportions, and thus, even with an hour's less screentime, the theatrical cut comes across in many respects as larger and more significant than the version intégrale. But things still weren't right, and once again I was left befuddled. Again, something was missing, and the very existence of the version intégrale hinted at what the problem with the theatrical release was:
it was simply too damn short! While getting rid of a lot of the perfunctory material that existed in the version intégrale, the theatrical release came with it's own problems, and for me presented problems from the opposite end of the spectrum. There were inconsistent elements which were fixed in the later cut, and some of which were not (that scene involving other agencies is still there!), shots added or moved around differently, and the same could be said for some of the continuity. The largest absence in the theatrical release is that it lacks the same level of texture, the epic scope and scale, that, no matter how bright the prism of the artistic paradox may shine, the picture was not as big as it should have been. There are moments which, though I have now seen both versions, I am unable to erase from my mind as key to the story. Once again, I will try to elucidate without giving away any spoilers, but there is a scene late in the film involving Betty and Zorg at a fun fair which is vital to the narrative; I will just leave it at that. Without this and a number of other scenes that add to the strength of the overall story, I come to the opinion that the theatrical version is also troublesome.
Which brings me to the next problem: does there exist, in the material presented in these two versions of Betty Blue a true masterpiece, and if so, is it morally and ethically correct to take a more involved approach to another person's artistic work?
(The above paragraph was the note I made to remind me as to where I was to pick up from when I resumed work on the article, after a 9am start on a Sunday inbetween...)
In answer to the first part of the above question, it is a definitive answer in the affirmative. There is no doubt that Betty Blue, for better or worse, has captured my heart and mind, and in such a unique way that it has provoked a causal reaction unlike any I've had to other films. I can safely say that, warts and all, for everything I acknowledge as being 'wrong' about it, I recognise and see these things and still say I believe it to be a great film. There is a masterpiece in there, but I do not feel that either of these representations show the singular masterwork.
One of the 21st century phenomenons among certain sections of the wider film community is the fan edit. Although alternate cuts existed before, oftentimes the individual work of professionals such as editors or even projectionists slicing and splicing directly onto film reels, they first began to gain prominence in popular culture with The Phantom Edit, a version of Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace, created by editor Mike J. Nichols due to his discontent with the original, based upon what he saw as George Lucas' previous execution of his philosophies on storytelling. Since then, fans and filmmakers alike (Steven Soderbergh, for instance) have got in on it, perhaps the most notable instance of artistic endorsement being that of Peet Gelderblom's edit of Brian De Palma's Raising Cain, which followed the film's original script as opposed the theatrical release. This saw De Palma, who loved this particular cut, arrange to have Gelderblom supervise an edit which was added to the Blu-Ray release, becoming what De Palma felt to be the film's 'Director's Cut.'
Betty Blue, as has been the case with the film itself, is a different kettle of fish. As seen in Blue Notes And Bungalows, the making-of documentary accompanying the DVD release, those involved with the film seem be divided 50/50 down the middle as to which version they prefer. The most interesting statement comes from the film's associate producer Claudie Ossard, who states more or less the exact length I think is most appropriate for this story: "For me the ideal running time for Betty Blue is 130 or 140 minutes. Three hours is too much. But Jean-Jacques [Beineix] decided that his three-hour version should be restored." Indeed, Beineix says himself as much that "It [the version intégrale] is the version... You know, there is no... no doubt about that."
Although I can say it's the only picture I've ever felt inclined towards seeing a fan edit of, or even doing my own, equally I feel it is questionable to do this to another artist's work. Perhaps my own increasing involvement in the process has made me more sensitive about such things, but I feel that to do such a thing to someone else's work, especially when they have already stated they are satisfied that their version is out there for audiences to enjoy, is to go a step too far. I'm fairly open-minded when it comes to remix culture (The Caretaker's An Empty Bliss Beyond This World is one of my favourite albums) and turning older art into something else anew, but where this becomes problematic morally is when people start putting their own stamp onto something else extant. While An Empty Bliss... is the work of another artist operating with materials to make something different, a fan edit detracts from the autonomy of an artist. It goes above and beyond the realms of audience engagement and art critique, into that of interaction. Altering the DNA, genetic code, mutating it into something else entirely, the fan edit fundamentally change the rules of a given piece. By placing their own principles upon it in this sense, unless that level of interactivity is part of the story itself, openly invited, (the recent Black Mirror: Bandersnatch, or video game developer Quantic Dream's work, for example), I feel it to be a potentially dangerous element. Whatever the purpose or intent may be, it inserts the viewer into a different form of engagement which makes you (as in me) ask,
"What is the point if you just get to pick and choose what you want to see?"
In life, you do not get to simply pick and choose what happens to you. Although matters of free will and choice come into the equation, ultimately there are things which can only be put down to chance (another feather in Beineix's favour when he argues that "Life is an absurdity..."), and if you aren't able to go with the challenges and accept reality, art, as it were, for what it is, you either reject that particular piece, reality, or, if you try to change it, manipulate your surroundings to fit your liking or preference, the ego flows over into tyranny. This question surrounding art, however troublesome it may be, can be applied to that of one's approach to life itself.
And so, for the present at least, I have resigned myself to taking Betty Blue for what it is. Though it infuriates me so, I still love the movie. It might not be everyone's cup of tea (things'd be no fun if they were), but I think that it's a lovely piece: sweet, sincere, funny, romantic, heartbreaking. It speaks to it's quality that it has got me thinking about it in such a way. A work of strange and flawed greatness. Hence the title.
