Blogical Conclusion

THE BOX OF SECRETS

JUN 20, 2009 – THE THICKSET ASIAN MAN IN THE BOWLER HAT opens a box in front of the prostitute named Mathilde (Maria Latour). She examines its contents, which are not revealed to us. All we hear is a peculiar hum, as if a particularly persistent mosquito were angrily attempting escape. But whatever it is, it’s not good news. Mathilde declares, “No sir. I don’t think so,” and leaves in a huff. Madame Anais (Geneviève Page), now, presents Belle de Jour (Catherine Deneuve). “What about her? Will she do?” Belle de Jour throws a brazen arm around the Asian client and kisses his cheek. That seems to please him. He nods and extends a credit card, which Madame Anais politely declines. “No good here. Only cash,” she says, miming the universal gesture for currency, repeatedly flicking her forefinger against her thumb.

“All right. Go ahead,” she allows, after the customer hands over a few bills. He nods again and picks up the inlaid box with its mysterious contents and allows himself to be led by Belle de Jour, stopping at least twice to kiss her. When they enter the room, he positions the box carefully at the corner of a table by the door, which he now closes. He turns the latch and removes his hat and hangs it on the wall, next to his coat. Talking, all the while, in a language she presumably does not understand – and as his thoughts aren’t subtitled, we are partners in her incomprehension – he picks up the box and opens it. Now only in her underwear, Belle de Jour looks at whatever’s inside, whatever’s causing that high-pitched hum.

They are a study in contrasts – his eyes narrowed and skin swarthy and black hair greased into place next to her wide-eyed, carefree, creamy blondness, as if the gods of desire had engineered a match between a Sumo wrestler and a Vogue waif. Something about her look prompts him to assure, in French, “Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid!” He takes off his shirt, and she responds by fumbling with her brassiere. But he wants none of that. He points to her panties instead, which she removes obediently. He examines the garment and flings it aside and holds up his arms as if to demonstrate his strength. The curious ringing sound comes from tiny bells in each palm. The strangeness of the sight, the sound, and indeed, the situation – not knowing what he’s saying or doing or going to do – doesn’t strike terror in Belle de Jour.

Instead, she laughs – possibly at the ridiculousness of it all, and possibly the only response given the situation – and embraces him. And just as we think we’ll finally find out what the box is all about, there’s a maddening cut to the foyer, as Pallas (Muni), the maidservant, welcomes her daughter home. “Did you do well today?” she enquires. “Did you behave?” The girl replies, “Yes, mom.” Pallas orders her daughter, “Go say hello to your aunt and show her your grades.” The “aunt” turns out to be Madame Anais. When not being tormented by mysterious men with mysterious sexual appetites, they’re all, apparently, one big happy family. Madame Anais kisses her “niece” and examines her report card. “Aren’t you going to say hello to me?” Mathilde calls out, looking far more cheerful, now that she’s handed over her day’s share of heavy-lifting to Belle de Jour.

The girl goes over and kisses Mathilde, who smiles and asks, “Do you want to go to the fair on Sunday?” The girl nods with delight. Madame Anais announces, with some pride, “B in history but an A in language.” It’s the Parisian equivalent of a Norman Rockwell painting – and just then, this cozy picture of domesticity, not to mention normalcy, is interrupted by the frantic calls of Charlotte (Françoise Fabian), who’s ministering to a masochistic professor with a profound need to be dominated. In an instant, we’re yanked back into the sordid world of the brothel. Charlotte, for some reason, needs a pen, which is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the Asian man exits from the bedroom, his box tucked securely under an arm. He runs into the girl in the corridor and fondles her cheek, but Pallas arrives in time to show him out.

The man tips his hat and leaves, taking the stairs down. The daughter goes to the apartment upstairs to do her homework. Pallas peers over the railing to check if the Asian has truly left, then she goes to clean up after him, in the bedroom where Belle de Jour now lies face down, a bedspread covering her behind. Straightening a knocked-over table lamp, Pallas observes that Belle de Jour is motionless. She walks over, ruffles the bedspread, and sympathises, “That man would scare me too. Sometimes it must be hard.” The mass of tousled hair that is Belle de Jour looks up sleepily and contentedly – secure in the knowledge that she and she alone knows now what was in the box, and what was done to her – and mocks, “[But} what would you know, Pallas?”

Belle De Jour (1967, French; aka Beauty of the Day). Directed by Luis Buñuel. Starring Catherine Deneuve, Jean Sorel, Michel Piccoli.

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