Monday, October 15, 2018

"Forbidden Games" Response

Forbidden Games (1952, dir. René Clément) concerns itself primarily with the innocence of it’s two protagonists, Michel and Paulette. The movie chronicles their friendship following the death of Paulette’s parents at the hands of Nazi planes, and the games that the two of them create to cope with the horrors of war.
The movie is filmed with two distinct styles, one of which only appears at the beginning and possibly the end. Most of the movie is filmed to highlight the created world that the children have for themselves; much of the film is shot in studios, Paulette in particular is lit somewhat angelically, and the whole movie has a melancholic, nostalgic quality. At the beginning however, the style is drastically different. The camera is detached from any one particular character and instead focuses on the planes and the panic they ensue, interspersing actual war footage with shots of stampeding and cowering Parisians. The effect is that this sequence is far more realistic than any other portion, serving as the the trauma that Paulette is forced to respond to for the rest of the film.
This is probably the most visually stunning sequence in the film, but opening with this reduced the visual fidelity of the rest of the film in the process. I enjoyed the score and the themes of the movie, but the editing and cinematography of the film was not particularly noteworthy. Any film that doesn’t take full advantage of the medium is a little disappointing. Yes, the movie shot the children in ways to highlight their innocence and the peasants in a way to highlight their pettiness, but there wasn’t anything particularly inventive about the way these scenes were shot.
However, I think that the way that Clément handled the children’s game was masterful. Everyone can recall getting involved in some “game” from when they were children, whether it’s army men or trains, and how deeply invested they became in it. The weight that this game holds for Paulette and Michel is ramped up to eleven, because not only is it a fictional plaything, it also serves as a quasi-religious ritual used to grieve. It becomes Paulette’s entire world, and she has nothing left when it falls apart.

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