(Jean-Jacques
Beineix/1986/France)
I first
saw Betty Blue in 1990 or 1991 at the age of 16 and to that fop
haired, desert booted, long coated, Lucky Strike smoking version of
myself it was cool and crazy and French maaaaan. Watching it a
quarter century or so later I can see why my younger self would have
been taken with it but I’m not sure the film itself holds up to
scrutiny. It certainly tries to be cool, it’s crazy in parts and
it’s undoubtedly French! But in its portrayal of mental illness
and the behaviour of people around it the film rings hollow. I think
there’s an element of romanticism here which puts artistic
aspirations on a pedestal, which is fine, but those aspirations are fueled by the maladjusted mind of Betty who only gets worse as the film
progresses with no reality check from Zorg, her older lover and the
supposed artist. Betty is given little constructive help from those
around her, rather she is accommodated, tip toed around and in many
ways feared for her outbursts and temper mentality. A naive attempt
at retreat to more peaceful living fails and then a barmy and
criminal misadventure attempting to give Betty what she wants also
fails. The film ends with a clumsy jab at an establishment that
doesn’t engage with people who are different. The irony here being
that if the mental health resources provided by the establishment had
been engaged with sooner by the main characters an awful lot of grief
could have been avoided. Yes, that is a terribly rational analysis of
an overtly sexy and romantic film about doomed love but once you
scratch at the surface of this film there’s very little underneath.
There’s sex, epic drinking and general fun and adventure that is
slowly overshadowed by Betty’s increasingly erratic behaviour. Zorg
is lazy, lacks ambition and is more interested in knocking back
tequila rapidos than work, be it his deadbeat job or writing his
book. In fact it is Betty who is the passionate one, the driving
force behind getting him published. His best energies are put into
keeping Betty happy which fail due to his acceptance of her madness
as essential to who she is rather than recognizing it as an illness
that needs treating. This concession to flawed romanticism is where
the film falls down and its meandering three hours seems self
indulgent as a result. The girl needs help, not to be allowed
descend into mental chaos. It’s also a slightly misogynistic film;
the story is told through a male gaze (the voice over by Zorg lets us
know this is him looking back at the events) and there’s plenty of
Béatrice Dalle to look at. We discover Zorg has gone on to success
as a writer following his escapade with the young, vibrant and
batshit crazy Betty. Through his affair with this free spirit, this
muse, this crazy angel he reaches artistic fulfilment - how romantic,
how tragic, how fucking pretentious.
In the final scene as Zorg has a
fumble of her breasts before committing an act of selfless love it
becomes more readily apparent than at any other point in the previous
three hours that this film is, in essence, adolescent. I’m being very critical of it through my old eyes of
course; it is, like Catcher in the Rye or On the Road, something to
be consumed at a particular age and there’s nothing wrong with
that. It’s also a gorgeous looking film with a great soundtrack.
It’s easy to get swept away by it but it doesn’t stand up to
deeper analysis in hindsight.
(3/5)
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