#gilbert prouteau

[spectaculardistractions]

From Georges Sadoul Paris, 14 May 1953 My dear Luis, I don’t know if you’ve been told about the muted response your latest film, This Strange Passion, received at Cannes. I’m sure you will know that some press announcements implied you would attend the Festival to present the film to the public. I certainly thought you would be there and was expecting you, so I was enormously disappointed. The Jury, as you know, was chaired by Jean Cocteau. He saw the film before the public. And before the screening he kept saying, in so many words: ‘I’ve witnessed a suicide. Buñuel wrote saying he cared greatly (or somewhat) for This Strange Passion. But all I can see is a regrettable, commercial film. Shocking.’ I do think, in fact, that he was expressing his sincere opinion and was not motivated by any ill-will. Just as a Bordeaux wine loses its bitterness over time, with age, Cocteau has become a model of benevolence and indulgence. In general, he has been an excellent president of the Cannes’ Jury. Except in the case of This Strange Passion. Of course, his comments were reproduced, and a number of critics absented themselves from the Festival on the afternoon the film was screened, because the Mexican gala evening had been set aside for La red, that far-fetched, vulgar fabrication by Emilio Fernández. The absences were even more noticeable because Susana had been screened six months ago in Paris, with a lot of publicity around your name, and the critics hadn’t much appreciated a film that I, personally, enjoyed (unless I’m mistaken?) as a commercial product in that zarzuela style you worked in, pseudonymously, some years ago in Madrid. Although I certainly didn’t recognize ‘my Buñuel’, except in one or two images. Before This Strange Passion, they screened a horrible, chauvinistic French film called Vie passionée de Clémenceau, the Ministry of War had ‘packed the house’ with a hundred or so veterans from 1914 to 1918, whose job it was to applaud, loudly, all the vengeful statements, shots of Marshall Foch, and battle scenes. This select audience stayed on to watch your film. So, it was hardly surprising that certain sequences were met with shouts and whistles, just as in the days of The Golden Age. As for me, I barely heard the shouts and whistles. I was ‘captivated’ from the opening scenes. Transported twenty years back to our youth. Where Cocteau saw a banal commercial film, I saw extraordinary fidelity to the motifs of The Golden Age and the rage of an acerbic and destructive humour that destroys, with Arturo de Córdova, all the commercialism of Mexican cinema, attacking it with its own weapons. But what most excited me was the fact that the recuperation (often forcefully highlighted) of the motifs of The Golden Age went hand-in-hand with their critique. The abject monster of This Strange Passion seemed to me the image, the double, the brother of the hero embodied by Modot, but reviled, destroyed, torn to shreds, rather than, as in The Golden Age exalted, glorified and placed on a pedestal. Francisco the sanctimonious, perverse, feudal, the unjust tyrant, both in the bell tower scene and in the encounter with his servant, seemed to me to be turned by your vision into an unprecedented condemnation of all the new incarnations of Fantômas or of Maldoror, who tormented some of us in the days of surrealism. To use an (overly solemn) analogy, if The Golden Age was your Maldoror, I see This Strange Passion as your Poésies by Isidore Ducasse. I said all of this (or something similar) in Cannes where, with the exception of five or six critics, This Strange Passion was condemned for a surface meaning so poorly understood it might have taken first prize at Catholic central for its ‘perfectly edifying’ denouement. And so it went on. 48 hours later, André Bazin, who initially shared the general incomprehension, published a defence of your film in the Festival bulletin, Rendez-vous de Cannes, published by Cinématographie française. Cocteau was no longer quite so insistent about his earlier opinion, although when I said: ‘It is The Golden Age’ his answer was ‘No, it’s The Monetary Age’ (with malice, this time, doubled or tripled). I am, though, convinced that if This Strange Passion is screened in Paris, it will definitely attract fans and lengthy eulogies in journals like Cahiers du cinéma. That said, I think your film will be difficult to defend, because it will be misunderstood by mass audiences (of whatever kind) who will only see (at best) its sadism, rather than its critique of sadism. Your intentions (or at least those I attribute to you) will be understood by a hundred initiates at most, that is, by men of our generation and experience, or the subtle aesthetes of Saint Germain des Prés. And to repeat a slogan from The Golden Age, ‘poetry should be written by everyone’ (in other words, for everyone), beginning with cinema. I shall try to explain your film when it premieres in Paris. I doubt these explanations will succeed in convincing anyone beyond a small (and reprehensible) circle of initiates… And now for a change of topic. I’m negotiating with Fondo de Cultura Económica and Arnaldo Orfilo Reynal a Mexican edition of my new book La Vie Charlot (I sent you a copy in November, did you get it?). However, the editors, who published my little book El cine and have just issued a new edition, are not offering very favourable terms. Do you know of any Mexican publisher who might be interested? A serious publishing house, of course, that would be undeterred by competition from Francisco Pina’s Charles Chaplin (and prepared to produce an initial run of 1,000 copies)? I would be very grateful if you could write back to me about this soon. And I would also like you to tell me about This Strange Passion, and whether I was correct in the intentions I attribute to you. But that can wait for another letter. When, finally, will you return to France? What does your Robinson Crusoe mean for you? We spoke of you at great length yesterday with Dominique Éluard and Eli Lotar. Most cordially, Georges Sadoul

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[netlex]

Dieu A Choisi Paris (1969)

Film de Gilbert Prouteau Avec Jean-Paul Belmondo

[miraculousfrenchculture]

so, Jeanne d'Arc and Gilles de Rais?

TW/ Mention of child abuse and murder

Hi !

You're probably asking this because Joan, in her quick apparition of Ephemeral, says "Gilles, is that you?", probably referring to Gilles de Rais.

Quick reminder about Joan of Arc (or Jeanne d'Arc in French): she was a young girl who heard the saint's voices, telling her to fight in the 100 years war against the English. She helped Charles VII to get to Reims to be sacred king, winning a huge amount of battles and becoming a notable military figure even though she was a woman. She was betrayed by the Burgundians, sold to the English, and was trialed for heresy and witchcraft. She was burnt at the stake in 1431 and was canonized in 1920, making her the Saint patron of France. Since she is a more widely known character, and since I wasn't sure of what you were asking for exactly, I chose to do a focus on Gilles de Rais, who is less known. I hope this is what you wanted to know!

Gilles De Rais was (probably) born around 1405. He died in 1440.

He was a noble who fought alongside Joan of Arc during the 100 years war. He was present during her most important fights against the English, such as the Orleans siege (1428-1429) and the Paris siege (1435-1436). His actions earned him the title of Marshal of France, one of the highest military distinctions of the country at the time. They were close, but nothing romantic of some sort, he was married and Joan was nicknamed "La Pucelle" (The Virgin) because of her purity.

He was heartbroken when Joan was burnt at the stake in 1431 and retired in religion. He lost all of his money in the following years and went into debt: this led him to develop an interest in alchemy and more especially in turning metal into gold.

He was accused of child rape and murder linked to his alchemy experiments, allegedly making him one of history's first serial killers. He was burnt at the stake in 1440 for those crimes.

However, in the 90's, a movement within French historians (led by biographer Gilbert Prouteau) grew to exonerate Gilles of his crimes. According to those historians, allegations of rape and murder against Gilles appeared right after angering the church, resulting in him kidnapping a priest. All the proofs were brought up by this specific church, and Gilles was trialed by Duke of Britanny, who inherited all his lands and titles after his execution. Still, his innocence is still debated among historians up to this day, some are convinced he's guilty, some are not.

Of course, if we missed something or if someone would like to add anything to this bio, our ask box is open. History is always a difficult subject, especially regarding such a controversial character.

I'd also like to remind that although Joan in Miraculous mentions a "Gilles", there is no proof that this is THIS Gilles we are talking about.

Hope that helped!

Links used:

- https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gilles_de_Rais

- https://dirtysexyhistory.com/tag/gilles-de-rais/

- https://www.geo.fr/histoire/gilles-de-rais-serial-killer-avant-lheure-202748