On the rare occasions when movies — that most kinetic of artforms — dare to present men simply waiting around, still and silent, it's typically just a trick to ratchet up the tension before a gun fight, a la High Noon or Rio Bravo. Viewers are well aware that, soon enough, these motionless men will revert to all-out action mode, as characters with agency.
Women in film, on the other hand, usually wait around — often locked up or hiding — as a prelude to victimhood.
Think of the night-before-the-execution sequence in the 1958 Susan Hayward vehicle I Want to Live! as she (and we) wonder if the governor will phone in a stay. Those 12 or so minutes really do feel more like 12 or so tense and tedious hours, an impressive technical and artistic accomplishment.
Likewise, Agnes Varda's Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962) chronicles the titular heroine's two hour, pseudo-"real time" wait for the results of a cancer biopsy. (Turn on English subtitles):
Anyone who's spent time in the land of the sick quickly becomes all too familiar with waiting: To be seen by a doctor in the emergency room; for test results; for a drug to start working (or not); and, once convalescence begins, the humiliating wait between what have become the "highlights" of one's day: the next meal, the next bowel movement, the next episode of that old sitcom at three in the afternoon. Waiting is a nagging, suffocating side effect for which there is no treatment. Just to hammer the point home, it is no coincidence that Cléo... takes place on June 21, the longest (and therefore, slowest) day of the year.
What makes Cléo... revolutionary is that the main character — a flighty, vivacious twenty-something pop star of some small renown — does her waiting in impatient perpetual motion. She stuffs the first 45 minutes of the film with frivolous diversions like buying a silly hat, the better to distract herself from her possible fate.
She looks in every mirror (and there are lots of mirrors) as if to assure herself from one second to the next that she is still alive, and lovely: "Ugliness is a kind of death," Cléo tells herself, although we're not quite convinced she believes this, or much of anything at all. "As long as I'm beautiful, I'm more alive than others." There are also lots of clocks, arrayed like mute rebukes — Cléo can try to ignore her date with destiny, but Time will out.
At the 45-minute mark, however, Cléo's attitude changes abruptly. As her exasperated entourage tells her to stop worrying her pretty little neurotic head about what's sure to be nothing (and here the then-pervasive opinion that cancer should never be discussed is subtly introduced), Cléo rebels. She pulls off her wig, changes from a frou-frou white marabou get-up into a sleek black dress, and storms out to wander the streets of Paris, alone, for the last half of the film – and, we sense, for the first time in her life.
The prospect of dying has forced self-centred, juvenile Cléo to take the first steps into true maturity, and she's predictably shaky on her feet at first. But we watch her undergo a profound but believable personality change:
For instance, when we met her, she was chronically, childishly superstitious; later, when the mirror of her compact shatters, this isn't so much an omen of death as a symbol of liberation.
"I always think everyone's looking at me, but I only look at myself," she soon realizes — and something more. As Roger Ebert observed:
"When you fear your death is near, you become aware of other people in a new way. Yes, you think of the others, you think your life is going on its merry way, but think of me — I have to die. Cléo's awareness of that deepens a film that is otherwise about mostly trivial events."
In-depth conversations with others — a frank female friend who models nude for sculptors, a kindly, enigmatic stranger about to ship off to the French-Algerian War — broaden Cléo's perspective on her place in the world, as one human being among millions, all of whom have their own hopes, burdens and fears.
In fact, Cléo is so caught up chatting with her new soldier friend that she almost misses her doctor's appointment. When she finally receives her diagnosis, she displays a new-found serenity; she seems to have aged ten years, but in a good, long-overdue way.
Cléo from 5 to 7 is very much a Left Bank, nouvelle vague film, right down to a horribly dated and pretentious "silent movie" interlude. If the average Hollywood movie is an ice cream sundae, Varda's film is more like an olive, or sushi, or caviar. As an unapologetic fan of classic American "comfort food" cinema, I couldn't help but fantasize about how, say, Douglas Sirk would have handled the same material: Sending Sandra Dee traipsing through New York in a variety of fabulous candy-coloured outfits, accompanied by heart tugging music cues. The result would have been... cozier than Cléo. More sentimental, less austere. I would have "liked" it much more.
On the other hand, Cléo from 5 to 7's very un-Hollywood style is as bracing and "grown up" in its way as Cléo's own journey. And if you find yourself unmoved by her plight, you can at least savour a travelogue of a Paris that no longer exists.
But if you've ever been trapped in limbo, to learn what fate has in store for you, and not quite sure you're ready to deal with it, this is the very rare film that portrays that universal yet highly personal experience.
Cléo from 5 to 7 streams via iTunes, Netflix's DVD.com and the Criterion Channel.
~If you'd care to weigh in on Kathy's column, Mark Steyn Club members can chime in in the comment. If you aren't yet a member but want to get in on the fun, you can sign up or get a loved one a gift membership here. To meet your fellow Club members in person, consider joining our third annual Mark Steyn Cruise next October, featuring Douglas Murray, John O'Sullivan and fan favorite Michele Bachmann, among other distinguished special guests.
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27 Member Comments
Kathy, once again a terrific review! Many of the films you review I've never seen and enjoy seeking out and if I get lucky I locate them. This went on the must-view list immediately but was unavailable. A month later it showed up as available. Also, many of your reviewed films I have seen, but ages ago and I find it's good to revisit them. This was a particularly tough one to watch though. I turned it off just after that 45-minute mark you mentioned when there was an abrupt change in Cleo's attitude. Like the main character I like to see a film before reading the reviews. I usually really don't care what the reviews say but if I laugh or cry even once, for me that's a worthwhile film.
I found the Cleo character silly, remote and unlikeable as if she was a cut-out paper doll and the scene in the cafe and shop being indulged by her assistant made her look infantile. So, then I read your review as I was thinking,"I'm through with this one," and your comments all correlated perfectly. I would like to talk more about dealing with the cancer aspect of the film but I hesitate to do so. Everyone who gets what they believe is a death sentence has a unique experience but you described some of those details I remember very well.
Yeah, so I decided to go back to finish it after switching partway through to a John Wayne film and thought, now I better get tough and see Cleo from 2 to 3 instead of impeachment hearings (talk about a death sentence) through to the end. I'm very glad I did, too. It was a stunning film and I liked seeing the Paris streets and neighborhoods again. It brought back some kind of sad memories. I laughed when the soldier on leave talked to her about the astrological sign of Gemini moving into Cancer that day. Cleo didn't but she bounced back, though, with a little encouragement from the talkative young fellow. I found that reassuring. You can always count me as a fan and thank you for what you do here at the Mark Steyn Club.
Kathy, this is such a fine piece of writing. It's personal without being overtly so, insightful and dignified.
Aw thanks so much Laura. I was trying to strike that balance.
You and Laura are professional writers and intelligent insightful women and I respect and admire your desires to be "dignified" rather than "overtly personal" or "maudlin and boring."
But I hope you are also comfortable in writing whatever you feel like writing or expressing without concerns about how it might be interpreted. I promise you, I will never think it is "maudlin or boring" or over the top. I consider myself a self admitted member of the unofficial "Kathy Shaidle Steynonline Support Group" even though you haven't officially requested such a thing it's often helpful to know it exists. Sincerely looking forward to your next column.
Thanks for the book suggestion. It has a 5-star rating from all verified purchasers and a good write up. I enjoyed Adam's appearances on Tucker etc. but I hadn't heard of Bryan Bishop or listened to their podcast. I will order a paperback soon.
Thanks Dennis for your kind comments.
Dennis, many thanks. It is humbling to receive so much support. Frankly I don't feel I deserve it, but will try to live up to it.
Nobody listen to her ^ ^ ^ ^
She deserves "it" x eleventy million gazillion.
:-)
It's funny, I am by no means a movie junkie, but I really enjoy reading movie reviews. The reviewer's insights and descriptions are interesting things to reflect upon in themselves. You don't really reflect all that much while you're in the actual process of watching a movie. It's like radio often being far more interesting than TV. In this case the description of the actress playing off the mirrors, the clocks, the clothing, the street tableaux all run through my imagination quite enjoyably telling the story, and there is nothing to distract me. This was a pleasure to read.
Wow, Todd, thanks so much! I often prefer the reviews to the movies -- I haven't seen "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" yet but the reviews (and outright essays) about it have been thought provoking. I'd be surprised if the best of them weren't anthologized sooner rather than later.
I was intrigued by your comparison of the portrayal of motionless men in movies as coiled up springs (e.g. High Noon, maybe even 12 Angry Men?), ready to be released, as opposed to women waiting for something dreadful to happen. I've seen a Mexican film (Y Tu Mamá También) where the woman diagnosed with inoperable cancer turns into a person of action who takes charge of two teenage boys on an epic road trip. Although the movie is usually viewed as being mainly an erotic film about the boys, I think the woman is the most interesting character. It may be an intriguing counterpoint to this week's movie choice.
Good luck in the weeks to come. It's been a little over 5 years since my surgery and I've been remarkably lucky since. But the diagnosis does hit you between the eyes and makes you think about what's really important, because there are never any guaranties. Mrs MCF, who did residencies and fellowships at Toronto Western (yeah, old name), Mt Sinai, St Mike's and T. Gen, also wishes you well.
I've never seen Y Tu... but really should get around to it. Thanks!
I like the "coiled up springs" metaphor and wish I'd thought of it :-)
Thanks to you and your wife for your well wishes -- that is quite a resume! I was sent to Mt. Sinai emerg initially, then my surgery was at General. Everything else is at Princess Margaret. Unfortunately, every hospital on Hospital Row (University Ave) has decided to undertake massive, messing, confusing renovations at the same time -- it's a gauntlet!
Kathy:
I hope these random thoughts aren't out of line.
You're a great writer/movie reviewer but this column is extraordinary given your recent operation. You have bravely and wisely decided to face reality or "entrapped limbo" head on and discuss the cancer word without hesitation.
You wrote, "Anyone who's spent time in the land of the sick quickly becomes all too familiar with waiting..."
Waiting in the waiting rooms of ER's, labs, radiologist's and oncologist's offices and so on (the list can be very long) is often made more tolerable or miserable by the office or ER admitting staff. Most are great but some are insouciant, clueless and cruel and don't belong in health care.
Battling cancer is certainly a "universal yet highly personal experience" but fellow cancer patients often connect quickly in the waiting rooms of hospital treatment centers. Some incredible and helpful bonds develop between former strangers that are often fighting different cancers but unite in their common fight during the duration of their treatments and afterward in some cases.
As you likely know, family, friends and former cancer patients can help enormously with the "Convalescent waiting..." You obviously have a lot of friends here with Mark at the top.
Thanks so much, Dennis. I kept the "I" out of this one intentionally, so as not to get all maudlin and boring. As The Nun's Prayer goes:
"Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by."
I have indeed met some kind, thoughtful hospital staff who really go out of their way. I got lost in the basement after "Chemo School" in Toronto General, and a cleaning lady (carrying a plate with her hot lunch) offered to escort me to the main floor exit (I declined; just followed her directions...) That's just one example.
For a terrific story along those lines, I highly recommend Bryan Bishop's book "Shrinkage." He's the sound guy/sidekick on Adam Carolla's podcast and has had an inoperable brain tumor for about 10 years. During his treatment, the diamond fell out of his then-fiance's engagement ring fell out, and pretty much the entire hospital staff turned the (already busy and chaotic) place upside down to find it. Very heartwarming example of what you're talking about. That chapter alone is worth the price of the book.
I've been very humbled by all the kindness I've experienced, especially from complete strangers like the folks here at SteynOnline.com.
With regard to the "waiting," the first thing that came to mind is my Father when he was staying in his retirement home. There, it was a matter of doing whatever between the "highlights" of the day, as Kathy said. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner. When I visited I would have an hour or so to work on the puzzle in the room across the hall while he promptly popped off for lunch.
Could not agree with you more, Dennis. I second all of your comments.
And it isn't just older people: When my lupus was at its worst, I was in my late 20s but very quickly got caught up in the "old lady" Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner cycle. When do I take X pills? When is my next dr's appointment? etc. Your world can shrink really fast.
Waiting for dr's appointments and test results is the worst. A day seems like a week.
Sadly, I know.
Wow.
Awesome review.
Thanks.
I'm currently part-way through three movies, none of which interest me in the slightest.
I think I will check this one out.
Do check it out, Perry. It may seem a bit "foreign" (because it is) -- don't expect a lot of Hollywood flourishes. But as I say, a diet of ice cream sometimes requires the occasional olive :-)
Thank you for introducing this movie - I hadn't heard about it before and now look forward to experiencing it.
You mentioned "comfort food" movies. Right now for me, it's any film with the amazing Shirley Temple!
She was so talented. I saw her first short film, one that would never get made today: The toddlers are acting out grown up characters and it is way too sexualized for 2019. But she is pretending to be May West and leaves the other kids in the dust with natural presence and talent. They all stand around clumsily, gawking.
"Cleo..." may not be to everyone's tastes, as it is a very French, "new wave" film. But it is fascinating to see an experience captured on film that normally isn't considered important enough to make up a whole movie. And it is lovely to look at.
There's one of those "Baby Shorts" - or whatever they were called - in which she plays "Morelegs Sweetricks" in a parody of one of Marlene Dietrich's first American movies, "Morocco." Of course, it's not just the precocious sexuality of her very early movies that wouldn't fly today, but the setting of movies like "The Littlest Rebel" and "The Little Colonel" and the racial attitude that went with them.
That's it!!! It is so mesmerizing to watch this little tyke baffle all the other kids with her talent.
And I just remembered - they were called Baby Burlesks (I think that's how it was spelled); and combining the word baby with the word burlesque is highly problematic, too. Also, some British film critic got in hot water during the peak of her stardom for opining on Shirley's oddly sexual precociousness and, more to the point, the shape of her bottom. But then, that may just have been him - who knows how many people among her legion of fans even noticed it. As usual, I seem to be digressing from the original topic. Anyway, thank you for an insightful analysis of one of those films I've read about but am unlikely to watch. And let me also express my admiration for the combination of fortitude and gratitude with which you have faced your battle with cancer.
Much appreciated, Calvert. Thanks!