★After her divorce, Guy returned to France in the 1920s, but she found it impossible to get work as a film director.
★In the early 1900s, film wasn’t thought to be an important art form. Many silent films were destroyed and accurate archives weren’t kept. The achievements of early filmmakers such as Alice Guy remained largely hidden until the work of film historians such as Anthony Slide. He wrote about Guy in his book Early Women Directors, published in 1977, and edited The Memoirs of Alice Guy-Blaché in 1986.
Holly Weaver on La Souriante Madame Beudet (1922)
Six years prior to the release of her riot-inducing surrealist film La Coquille et le Clergyman, Germaine Dulac was exercising her female gaze in what would later become a feminist classic: La Souriante Madame Beudet. The film’s eponymous hero (Germaine Dermoz) is an intelligent woman who, when she’s not seeking solace in books or playing piano, sits at the receiving end of the selfishness and “suicide jokes” of her buffoonish husband (Alexandre Arquillière), whom she despises.
Although at first her subtle expressions portray a sense of apathy toward him, her thoughts and dreams tell us otherwise. Through the use of close-ups, mental images, and superimposition, Dulac allows us to delve into the psyche of her protagonist as she fantasizes about other men and being rid of her husband. However, as her feeling of imprisonment intensifies, these fantasies turn into nightmares since she cannot shake the image of Monsieur Beudet appearing around every corner, trapping her in an endless cycle of torment.
The motif of the “façade” is central to the film: the opening exterior shots of the tranquil village are betrayed by the gradual discovery of what is occurring behind closed doors, just as Madame Beudet’s “smiling” façade is belied by insight into her mind. Dulac’s commitment to the dichotomy between interiority and exteriority is further enforced through her use of light and shadow, creating a perpetual chiaroscuro. Nowhere is this contrast more striking than on the face of Madame Beudet herself, particularly while she sits at the window staring out with a deep tristesse, the presence of light and dark expressing both her fear of leaving and her reluctance to stay. Dermoz’s ability to covertly portray Madame Beudet’s inner torment is astonishing—whether it’s a look of disgust as she watches her husband sloppily eating dinner or a look of bitter hatred as the sheer mental image of him breaks her blissful reverie. Although Madame Beudet’s gestures become more erratic as she reaches a breaking point, her facial expressions retain a sense of impenetrability, unlike those of her husband, whose wide eyes and wicked grin give him the appearance of a maniacal clown from start to finish.
The film’s climax sees Monsieur Beudet playing his “suicide joke” once more by holding a revolver, which Madame has preemptively loaded, to his head. However, this time he turns it on her and fires a shot—but misses, and immediately runs over to comfort her. Thinking she intended to kill herself and not him, he begins smothering her with affection and ponders aloud, “How would I have lived without you?” Monsieur Beudet’s false assumption about Madame’s mentality shows the importance of the female gaze in film: a woman-led exploration of a woman’s psyche can provide an intimate portrayal of how the struggles we face run much deeper than what appears on the surface, as Dulac demonstrates so perfectly in her masterpiece.
Holly Weaver is a fourth-year BA French and Spanish student at the University of Leeds. After graduation, she hopes to earn a master’s degree in film studies.
Dance, Girl, Dance
RKO Radio Pictures, 1940, USA | Black & White, 90 minutes, Drama
A complex female friendship/rivalry between two dancers
of opposite styles.
Director: Dorothy Arzner
Producer: Erich Pommer
Cinematography: Russell Metty
Screenplay: Tess Slesinger, Frank Davis, based on a story by Vicki Baum
Starring: Maureen O’Hara (“Judy O’Brien”), Louis Hayward (“Jimmy Harris”), Lucille Ball (“Bubbles”), Ralph Bellamy (“Steve Adams”), Virginia Field (“Elinor Harris”)
“I was averse to having any comment made about being a woman director…because I wanted to stand up as a director and not have people make allowances that it was a woman.”
—Dorothy Arzner
There’s a moment in Dance, Girl, Dance which may elicit spontaneous applause. The scene comes toward the end of the movie and features a scathing speech about the objectification of women for entertainment purposes. And this impassioned speech may also make the audience think about how they too have unfairly judged these characters.
Dance, Girl, Dance follows a female dance troupe trying to make a living. At the center of the group is Judy O’Brien (Maureen O’Hara), a shy brunette who hopes to elevate the art form using her ballet routine. This places her in direct opposition to another dancer in the group, Bubbles (Lucille Ball), a feisty blonde who sees nothing wrong with using her sexuality to earn money. While performing together in Ohio, the two ladies meet and each fall for the same young man, Jimmy Harris (Louis Hayward), who is going through a messy divorce. Their fight for his affection continues in New York, where the troupe moves in search of work.
In the big city, Judy aspires to join the American Ballet Company. Her efforts are encouraged by the leader of the troupe, Madame Basilova (Maria Ouspenskaya). But when Bubbles finds fame in a burlesque show performing under the name Tiger Lily White, she hires Judy to get the crowd excited before the main performance. When Judy performs her ballet routine, she gets only jeers from the audience, who have after all come to see women strip.
The female friendship at the center of Dance, Girl, Dance is quite complex. Bubbles and Judy view each other as rivals, because that is what society has led them to believe. At the same time, the two women do help each other out; and it’s clear that underneath it all, they care for one another. In this way they’re like an odd couple or two characters in a buddy movie.
Both women are also trying to move out of the social class they were born into—Bubbles through money and fame, Judy through art and respect. Here, dance is not only a form of self-expression, but a way for both women to become financially independent. And the contrast between Judy’s elegant ballet and Bubbles’ sexy burlesque numbers reflect the divide between what was considered “low” or “high” theater at the time.
These characters are not one-dimensional. Bubbles is not simply a “bad girl.” Her insecure pursuit of fame is actually a little tragic, while at the same time, it feels empowering to watch her embrace her sexuality. She feels no shame, and the movie does not shame her. Bubbles just has that extra “oomph” that everyone is searching for. Similarly, Judy is not just the “good girl.” She is innocent but not naive, with a lot of burning ambition inside her. And if pushed too far, she snaps.
This brings me back to that pivotal scene. Without spoiling the moment too much, there’s a point where Judy has had enough of the crowd. She is trying to perform her ballet routine, but they only yell at her to take her clothes off. Judy stops dancing and walks to the front of the stage, where she crosses her arms and stares at the audience. “Go on. Laugh!” she says. “Get your money’s worth. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I know you want me to tear my clothes off so you can look your fifty cents’ worth. Fifty cents for the privilege of staring at a girl the way your wives won’t let you. What do you suppose we think of you up here—with your silly smirks your mothers would be ashamed of? We’d laugh right back at the lot of you, only we’re paid to let you sit there and roll your eyes and make screaming clever remarks. What’s it for? So you can go home and strut before your wives and sweethearts and