Blogical Conclusion

FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD

JAN 23, 2010 – AS IS ONLY ENTIRELY EXPECTED IN A STORY that holds its secrets so close to its heart, a number of theories have sprouted about what it all really means. Considering the early baptism scene of the donkey named Balthazar and the girl named Marie (Anne Wiazemsky), and the subsequent events depicting the creature mutely suffering the sins of humankind, is this, as several have claimed, some sort of Christian allegory? Or is it easier – and less fanciful – to simply see Balthazar as a stolid counterpoint to the typically hysterical lives of the humans around him (even if, this being a characteristically becalmed Bresson creation, these lives are depicted anything but hysterically)? The latter notion is certainly borne out by the stretch of film that unfurls as Marie’s father (Philippe Asselin) pays a visit to the local attorney-at-law.

He has a sheaf of pages in hand, parts of a letter, and he hands them over to the attorney to read out in painstaking detail. “As I am too sad to return to this house since my daughter’s death and failed to sell the farms, why not farm the land yourself using modern techniques, as you once said you’d like to? You would have to close the school and resign.” The attorney pauses for what appears to be a breath, but Marie’s father urges, “Keep reading.” The attorney continues, “Enclosed is my proxy for any sale, purchase or exchange of land. My attorney will advance the funds to cover your initial expenses. I trust you entirely. You have carte blanche. You needn’t consult me or send me the accounts.”

Marie’s father demands, “Now he suddenly wants the accounts examined?” The attorney nods. Marie’s father, a proud man, asks, “And if I refuse?” He returns the document to his briefcase. “I’m under no obligation.” The attorney points out that that would unadvisable, what with all the rumours floating around. Marie’s father is stumped by this allusion of rumours. His business is finished. He rises, exits the office, steps outside the compound wall and, in a beautifully symmetric composition, shuts the outer door just as the attorney inside closes the door to his office. Outside, Marie waits in the cart they rode down in, which is hitched to her beloved Balthazar. Her father passes her and instructs, “Go on home with the donkey. I prefer to walk.”

The next cut transports us to a stationary vehicle that’s as opposed to Marie’s humble cart as possible – a flashy sports car, a symbol of modernity as well as means. The owner, Jacques (Walter Green), is beside Marie as they stroll into sight from behind a tree. He’s been explaining to her the circumstances that led his father – the donor of the “carte blanche”— to now request her father for a clarification of the farm accounts. “The sale of the woods started it. We began getting letters, all anonymous, claiming the proceeds all went into your father’s pocket, not mine. But without proof, of course.” As they sit on a bench, Marie exclaims that it’s despicable. Jacques says, “That’s the cost of your father’s success. Envy and jealousy.”

Marie insists, “Papa’s blameless… Your father thinks he pocketed all the money?” And even when Jacques denies this, she adds, “He’s hurt Papa, who never asked for anything in return.” Jacques is silent. Marie’s eyes stray to the donkey standing in front of them, blissfully unconcerned about this hysterical human drama being played out around him – scripted around alien themes like wounded pride, matters of finance, a sense of betrayal, envy and jealousy, and soon, love. Marie says, “Yes, it’s Balthazar,” indicating to Jacques that this is the same donkey they played with as children. As Balthazar looks on with blessed incomprehension, Jacques unburdens his heavy heart. “Oh, Marie, nothing’s changed! But you’re prettier than ever… Remember the promise I once made on this very bench? That I’d love only you?”

Marie pulls her hand away from his and replies, “But, Jacques, I’m not sure I love you.” Jacque wonders if that’s hard to know. Marie explains, “If I don’t love you, I don’t want to lie to you.” Jacques asks if she isn’t happy to be with him. Marie answers, “Very happy, Jacques.” She leans on him and puts an arm around his shoulder, just as her father calls out from inside. “You go in alone and talk to him,” she instructs Jacques. “Don’t let this nonsense come between us.” Jacques leaves to do her bidding and Marie leads a sweetly compliant Balthazar to his shed. But very soon, she hears the car being started. She runs outside and sees Jacques about to take off. She asks, “Leaving? Will I ever see you again?” He shrugs and drives away.

Inside, Marie’s mother (Nathalie Joyaut) chides her husband, “One word would have settled everything, but you were too proud.” He asks why he should be the one to make the first move. She says, “The boy was on your side, but you had to throw him out.” He looks over some papers and receipts. She says, “Let me have the accounts.” He snaps, “That’s my business. I’m not answerable to anyone.” She advises him to forget the insults, otherwise he’d only prove the rumour-mongers right. He declares, “A lawsuit will decide who’s right.” His gaze lands on Balthazar. “If Marie refuses to feed him and stays in her room, I don’t see why we should keep him. That antiquated donkey makes us look ridiculous.” There! That’s another aspect of human drama Balthazar is unconcerned about – ridicule.

Au Hasard Balthazar (1966, French; aka Balthazar). Directed by Robert Bresson. Starring Anne Wiazemsky, Walter Green, François Lafarge.

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