Truffaut's Femme Fatale

Title: Truffaut's Femme Fatale
Year: 2013

Writer(s): Ehren C. Clarke & Michael Carlisle
Editor: Ehren C. Clarke 

One of the most compelling and ambiguous cinematic figures in all of the history of cinema, a woman of the utmost complexity and curiosity that cannot be glazed over as a femme fatale in the same way Scarlet O’Hara is of such a complexity and deserves great consideration, is the charismatic and oblique character played in “Jim et Jules” of Catherine by Jeanne Moreau.  The dichotomy presented in this character is compelling as she, like Leigh’s character, presents the viewer, with an anomalous personality that is frankly difficult to grasp holistically. 

It must not be said that this character has a schizophrenic tendency, on the contrary.  It is to Moreau’s great credit that this character is entirely cohesive, it is just a more challenging role than most to try to get to grips on a role that will perhaps never be fully understood, but here we might attempt to understand some of her motivation and thus a degree of her purpose as a believable and relatable being whom one might empathize with as indeed the ultimate argument is if she is a tragic character, is she meant to be pitied, is she manipulative, does she have real amorous qualities mingled with traits of magnanimity, or is she simply cruel, or a combination of several of these in myriad ways.  The latter is perhaps closer to the truth.

We meet Catherine in her living quarters and indeed she is anomalous as we learn nothing about her other than she is assertive, proud, brazen, unabashedly flirtatious, and knowing of her charms while in complete control.  At first she seems to have a coldness to her, but this dissipates as a warmth washes over her as she allows herself to be disguised as a man, dons a cap, and she, Jules and Jim, in the iconic scene of the film, madly and exuberantly, in a moment that seems the closest to happiness that the three will ever know together, run across a bridge. 

Another incident must be considered.  The three are walking at night.  They are engaged in a philosophical discussion that may have stirred Catherine’s pride.  Of a sudden, dressed in full evening clothes for the chilly evening, she takes a hop to the left and right into the frigid waters of the Seine.  Without a thought of the outcome of the situation, having been stirred to act, pride seems to be more important, a demonstration of fearlessness and lack of seriousness for what had been the topic of discussion, chancing her very life on the surety that it be known that she was in total disregard for either Jules or Jim, or for herself for that matter, and that nothing in fact did matter, so why not, what did she have better to do than to, in an act completely rhetorical, plop herself in the Seine.

But, this is a first sign of Catherine’s weakness and the fact that she cares very deeply and craves attention and wants desperately for intimacy and nothing, in the moment of insecurity as they are walking, nothing could be greater to her than to brave the frigid waters of the Seine than to be rescued by the caring and adoring arms of someone who truly cared and adored her back.  Catherine is alone in the world.  Looking back to the first meeting with her upon reflection, she is entirely alone.  Thinking of the moment of total abandon where she recklessly allows herself to be dressed as a man and with all of the glorious sense of freedom accompanied by two attractive adorers who she amuses, is giddy in the commotion she is causing, just as she is giddy by jumping into the Seine.

How strange for one to be giddy by casually, as if it were as simple an activity as painting on a moustache and donning a male cap, plopping into a frigid river.  But she had learned by now that these men adored her and she know that there was no length she could go to for these adoring men not to rescue her.  She was starting to play a very dangerous game staking her empty loneliness and betting on the adoration of two men, two best friends, whom she was confident both adored her, and the game of danger that she played was the game of love, no less dangerous than Russian Roulette to its victim and no greater than Olympic gold to the victor, or so she thought.

The game was played out in a provincial cottage, a hideaway, a reality of its own where Jules and Jim, far from civilization, could wage the stakes on Catherine unbeknownst that she was in the game too, more so, she was the mastermind.  She and Jules married for a time but that did not mean she did not have her way with Jim, she would not allow his affection and adoration to fade, it was too critical to her, it was too empowering, it gave her too much security, while playing the strings of Jules, the dedicated husband. 

Jim went away for a time and Catherine was left with Jules but this was not enough for her.  There was a young and attractive neighbor nearby and having had the strong desire and affection of Jules and Jim for so long, how empowering and how rejuvenating would it be to kindle the affections of a new romance.  This she did knowingly by Jules but it would turn into nothing serious and Catherine was, as is predictable, bored.  But soon Jim came back, such was the lure of Catherine and the midnight escapades continued, with neither Jules, nor Jim, nor Catherine, happy at all.

A summer picnic by a lake provided an ideal opportunity for Catherine and Jim to take a drive.  She was in the drivers seat.  She was in complete control.  She had Jim to her side and she had Jules not far off but just as much under her control.  As the car rattled off it took a turn onto a bridge.  Up ahead it became noticeable that there had been damage to the bridge and the bridge ended right at the middle with no space to the other side.  Just as casually as she had donned the men’s guise, even more casually than she plopped into the river, with far greater ease than she had been playing puppeteer to those lives around her for a good number of years, Catherine turned her head to Jim, gave a smile as casual as if to say, “How lovely it is to have you by my side,” and the car plummeted over the edge and sunk into the river.

With consideration to the chain of events it becomes easier to see Catherine’s motives.  Control becomes intoxicating to one who is alone in the world, to one who is in fact fragile but desperately wants to be strong and is very good at playing the game.  Most usually, that game of strength is played by vying one player against the other, and this is no real strength, this is smarts, this is calculated manipulation, thought up moment to moment, turn by turn.

For one such as Catherine, who has played the game through, who really has not triumphed or lost but knows there is no happiness to be found for the victor of this game, the answer the primal question is that she is to be pitied.  As much as one wants to like Catherine, that final smile at Jim is in fact resignation; “I have lost, I have played my game till its end, I have even met my goals but still, one looses in this accomplishment.  There is nothing further to be played in this game and you cannot love me, you cannot adore me anymore than you are capable and that has long grown stale, I have overstayed my welcome and now I bid you a fond goodbye as there is nothing to be said and nothing to be done.  I am sorry that I am so selfish and crave control so much that I have to bring you with me, but I am the victor of this game and you have lost.  This is the price that must be paid, nothing can be done for what must be.  Regardless, you are unhappy too.