Film for Mike - Rivette

"Loosely adapted from Honoré de Balzac's The
Hidden Masterpiece, La Belle noiseuse is an
elegantly realized, exquisitely tactile,
understated, and deliberative exposition on
the complex mutualism and turbulent process
of artistic creation."

Download the movie here:
La Belle Noiseuse (The Beautiful Troublemaker) -- Rivette (1991)

• There was no script per se. The film was shot in sequential order and the day's shooting was dictated by what had been filmed the day before.
  
• Frenhofer mentions a sculptor, Rubek, and his model, Irene, who both died in Norway. This is a reference to a play by Henrik Ibsen, 'When We Dead Awake'.
  

La Belle Noiseuse: Divertimento

In this fascinating and unconventional
examination of the creative process, an
artist near the end of his career finds new
inspiration in a young model. Edouard
Frenhofer (Michel Piccoli) is a famous and
well-respected artist who lives in a
comfortable estate in the French countryside.

At the age of 60, Frenhofer considers his
career as a painter to be over; he says he no
longer feels any inspiration to create, and
his last attempt at a major work, a nude
study of his wife Liz (Jane Birkin) called
"La Belle Noiseuse" (The Beautiful Nuisance),
has sat unfinished for ten years. Just as
Frenhofer has lost his enthusiasm for his
art, he has also lost his passion for Liz;
their relationship is polite and friendly,
but without enthusiasm. When Frenhofer tells
Nicolas (David Bursztein), his young protégé,
that he no longer feels the desire to paint,
Nicolas suggests that he needs a more
inspiring subject, and he offers his
girlfriend Marianne



(Emmanuelle Béart) as a
model. Frenhofer is taken with Marianne's
beauty, and, with Liz's cool approval, he and
Marianne spend several arduous sessions
together, exchanging ideas and opinions as
Frenhofer methodically attempts to create a
final masterpiece. While La Belle Noiseuse
runs 240 minutes, director Jacques Rivette
also prepared an alternate version, La Belle
Noiseuse -- Divertimento, which runs 120
minutes, features a different framing
sequence, and incorporates takes unused in
the original cut.

by Mark Deming



ultra-rare and uncut "Out 1" pls?
You can find it with emule (KAD) freegoodcinema
torrent download Seeders 10 Leechers: 11
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The last of Ibsen's plays, " When We Dead
Awake," was published in 1899, being separated by
three years, instead of the customary two, from its
predecessor. The play is further described as " a
dramatic epilogue," which seems to mean that the
author has definitely closed the series of problem-
plays, or studies in social pathology, which was
begun in 1878 with "The Pillars of Society," and
which is made an even dozen by the work now
under discussion. One in search of fanciful anal-
ogies might find in that first title some suggestion
of an intellectual Samson determined to pull down
the temple of modern society, and in the last some
suggestion of the nobler social structure that may
be expected to spring from the ruins of the old
order.

This is, of course, the merest fancy and nothing
more, but it is the prerogative of Ibsen's work to
suggest ideas that lie far afield from its direct mes-
sage, and it is impossible to remain literal-minded
in the presence of the extraordinary series of com-
positions now brought to an end. Their signifi-
cance is none the less real because it is elusive, and
their larger implications must determine our judg-
ment quite as much as the nicety of their drama-
turgical craftsmanship. " When We Dead Awake "



THE EA T D OF THE HISTORY. 311

is a title which in itself awakens many echoes from
the author's earlier writings. It proclaims anew
his whole insistent gospel of the need of spiritual
regeneration for an age sunk in slothfulness the
gospel of Brand's

" Forth ! out of this stifling pit !
Vault-like is the air of it !
Not a flag may float unf url'd
In this dead and windless world."

It sounds once more that note of high idealism
which is never altogether missing from his work,
and which is the real secret of the appeal which he
has so powerfully made to all who have ever dreamed
of the realization of Utopias and the permanent
betterment of the social order.

But, whatever aspirations may breathe through
his symbolism, Dr. Ibsen never forgets that he is a
dramatic artist writing for the stage, and that his
first concern is the concrete presentation of such
men and women as we may at any time meet with in
actual life. The new play opens in the most matter-
of-fact way at a summer resort on the Norwegian
coast. Professor Rubek and his wife Maja are
seated outside the hotel. They have just finished
breakfast and are reading the newspapers. Rubek
is a sculptor of European reputation, who has re-
turned to his native land after a lengthy sojourn
abroad. Both are restless, and it soon transpires



3 1 2 HENRIK IBSEN.

that neither of them has found satisfaction during
the years of their married life. It is a case of the
deeper sort of incompatibility.



An artist and a
frivolous woman are joined together, and neither
of them can give the other what is most wanted.
To him has been denied inspiration for his work,
to her the joyous round of gaiety which she craves.
For years they have pretended a satisfaction they
did not feel, but the breaking-point has nearly been
reached.

All this comes out very clearly in the opening
scene. Soon afterwards, the two remaining char-
acters of the play appear. One is a landed
proprietor named Ulfhejm, the other is Irene, a
pale, mysterious woman who turns out to be an
old friend of Rubek, no other, in fact, than the
woman who had been his model for "The Day of
Resurrection," and thus the inspiration of his best
artistic effort. She is attended by a deaconess, a
shadowy, silent figure, who speaks only three words
at the very close of the drama. Ulfhejm, who is
an enthusiastic sportsman, is coarse of speech and
unconventional in manner. Maja is attracted to
him by his abundant animal spirits, and they plan
a hunting expedition. When they have gone off
together, Rubek is left with Irene, and memories
of the past come surging upon him. In the in-
timacy of their earlier relations, he had viewed her
with the artist's eye only ; she, on the other hand,
had loved him with all the strength of her passion-
ate nature. To him she had been an episode ; to
her he had been everything that makes life desir-
able. When they had parted she had become like
" The Woman with the Dead Soul " of Mr. Stephen
Phillips's poem. She had existed, but the vital
spark had been extinguished within her breast.
He, learning too late how great was his need of her
inspiration, had made a prosaic marriage, and had
discovered that the creative impulse had fled be-
yond his control. The situation is something like
that of " The Master Builder," when the appear-
ance of Hilda reawakens in the artist the old
aspirations and the old ideal visions. Irene re-
proaches the sculptor with having seen in her
only the beautiful figure, not the loving woman's
soul.

RUBEK. I was an artist, Irene.

IRENE. Just that, just that.

RUBEK. An artist first of all. And I was ill and would
create the great work of my life. It should be called
" The Day of Resurrection." It should be produced in
the likeness of a young woman, waking from the sleep of
death.

IRENE. Our child, yes.

RUBEK. She should be the noblest, purest, most ideal
woman of earth, she who awoke. And then I found you.
I could use you with complete satisfaction. And you



314 HENRIK IBSEN.

submitted so willingly, so gladly. Left people and home,
and followed me.

IRENE. It was my resurrection from childhood when I
followed you.

RUBEK. That was just why I could use you. You and
none other. You became for me a sacrosanct creature,
whom I might touch only in the worship of my thoughts.
I was still young then, Irene. And I was possessed by
the superstition that should I touch you, desire you in
reality, it would be a desecration, and put beyond my
power the work that I sought to do. And I yet believe
there is truth in that.

IRENE. First the work of art then the human child.

RUBEK. Judge of it as you will. But I was completely
controlled by my task at that time, and it made me jubi-
lantly happy.

IRENE. And your task turned the corner for you,
Arnold.

RUBEK. With thanks and blessings for you, it turned
the corner for me. I sought to create the pure woman
just as it seemed to me she must awake on the day of
resurrection. Not surprised at anything new and un-
known and undreamed of, but filled with sacred joy at
finding herself unchanged she, the woman of earth
in the higher, freer, more joyous lands after the long
and dreamless sleep of death. So did I create her in
your image I created her, Irene.


He speaks of a projected journey along the north
coast with his wife, but Irene counsels him rather to
seek the heights, and asks if he dare meet her again
up there. " If we only could ! " is his cry, and she


THE END OF THE HISTORY. 315

replies: "Why can we not do what we will?
Come, Arnold, come up to me." " Why can we
not do what we will ? " The whole of Ibsen is
in that passionate question. Why does deed fall
so far short of impulse? Why do we cripple our
lives by making them so much less than our
ideals ? Noticeable also in this scene is the re-
currence of the typical motive of " The Master
Builder," for as Hilda comes to Solness and re-
calls the past in such fashion as to rekindle his
artistic energies, so Irene comes to the sculptor
at a similar period of slackened will, and bids
him once more be greatly daring.

In the second act, Rubek and his wife, in sor-
row rather than in passion, say some of the
things they have long felt, and put into bare and
almost brutal speech their attitude toward one
another. After this discussion, Maja leaves the
scene, meets Irene, and sends her to Rubek. A
long reminiscent dialogue between these two then
follows, leading to this poetical and impressive
climax :

IRENE. Look, Arnold. Now the sun is sinking behind
the peaks. Just see how red the slanting rays shine upon
all the hilltops yonder.

RUBEK. It is long since I have seen a sunset on the
mountains.

IRENE. And a sunrise?



316 HENRIK IBSEN.

RUBEK. I think I have never seen a sunrise.

IRENE. I saw a wonderfully beautiful sunrise once.

RUBEK. Did you? Where was it?

IRENE. High, high up on a dizzy mountain top. You
enticed me thither, and promised that I should behold all
the glory of the world, if I would only

RUBEK. If you would only ? Well ?

IRENE. I did as you told me. Followed you up to
the heights. And there I fell on my knees, and be-
sought you and worshipped you. Then I saw the
sunrise.

The close of this act brings an appointment be-
tween the two to spend the warm bright summer
night upon the heights. At the same time it
must be remembered that Maja and Ulfhejm have
planned a hunting expedition for that night also.

IRENE. Until to-night. On the upland.

RUBEK. And you will come, Irene ?

IRENE. I will truly come. Wait for me here.

RUBEK. A summer night on the upland. With you,
with you. Oh, Irene, it might have been a lifetime.
And we have wasted it, we two.

IRENE. We first come to see the irretrievable when

RUBEK. When ?

IRENE. When we dead awake.

RUBEK. What is it we come to see ?

IRENE. We see that we have never lived.

With the last act comes the inevitable tragic
ending. The scene is laid high up among the
mountains, with precipices on the one hand, and



THE END OF THE HISTORY. 317

snovvclad peaks on the other. The time is just
before sunrise. Maja and Ulfhejm first appear,
and after a long dialogue come upon Irene and
Rubek. A storm is brewing, and the note of
warning is sounded by Ulfhejm. He goes down
the mountain with Maja, promising to send succor
for the others, but they take little heed of this,
having reached the pitch of exaltation that cares
nothing for physical dangers, and fears only a re-
lapse into the deadly moral conditions of ordinary
prosaic life.

RUBEK. Then let us two dead live life once to the
dregs, ere we go down again into our graves.

IRENE. Arnold !

RUBEK. But not here in the twilight. Not here,
where the wet, hideous shroud flaps about us.

IRENE. No, no. Up into the light and all the glitter-
ing glory ! Up to the peaks of promise !

RUBEK. Up there we will celebrate our bridal festival,
Irene, my beloved.

IRENE. The sun will see us gladly, Arnold.

RUBEK. All the powers of light will see us gladly.
And all the powers of darkness. \_Taking her hand~\ Will
you follow me, then, my gracious bride?

IRENE. Willing and gladly will I follow my lord and
master.

RUBEK. We must first make our way through the
mists, Irene, and then

IRENE. Yes, through all the mists, and so straight up to
the towering peak, that gleams in the sunrise.



3 1 8 HENRIK IBSEN.

As the two pass upward hand in hand, the tempest
increases in violence. The silent attendant of
Irene appears and looks about for her mistress.
The jubilant voice of Maja is heard from far
below. Then, with a roar like thunder, an ava-
lanche sweeps down the mountain side, and buries
the devoted two in its depths.

Such is the scene which, like the similar scene
in " Brand," leaves us awe-stricken at the close of
the drama. We leave to others the task of read-
ing a lesson into this tragic presentment of two
human souls thus brought to the crisis of their
lives. Journalism and by journalism is meant
the sort of writing which, whether found in news-
papers or in books, invariably balks at every form
of idealism, and always, of the possible motives
for any course of action, assumes the basest or the
least worthy, to offer the most rational explana-
tion journalism, we say, will scoff at this story,
just as it scoffed at " L'Abbesse de Jouarre " and
" Die Versunkene Glocke," with both of which
works this drama has suggestive affinities. But
we pity the reader who can contemplate the situ-
ation here created by the genius of Dr. Ibsen,
and find only prosaic emotions to feel, only pro-
saic things to say. An awful pity and an awful
sense of omnipotent fate seem the fitting subjec-
tive accompaniment of the tragedy here worked



THE END OF THE HISTORY. 319

out with unerring objective mastery. In the
presence of such creative power, of such a cer-
tain grasp upon the very core of passion, such an
envisagement of the problem of life when stripped
of all adventitious trappings, all criticism seems
futile, and all comment superfluous.

Ibsen returned to Norway for permanent resi-
dence several years ago, making his home in
Christiania, and the honors that have since been
heaped upon him by his fellow-countrymen, now
unanimous in the pride with which they claim him,
have richly atoned for the mistrust and calumny
of the earlier years. He has become a prophet
for his own country, as well as for the rest of the
world, and has entered into the full heritage of his
fame. His seventieth birthday, in 1898, was made
the occasion of the heartiest of celebrations, and
evoked tributes of praise for his work from all
parts of the world. This year (1901) he has
suffered from a severe illness which leaves little
hope of a restoration to his former activity. It is
understood that he has prepared some sort of an
autobiography, but, such is his habitual secretive-
ness concerning his literary work, not even his
closest friends know very much about it. Even
during the months of his recent illness he has
been working almost daily at some composition of
which no other human being has yet had sight.



32O HENRIK IBSEN.

It is evident that the work of his' life is practically
completed ; the content and significance of that
life-work, as set forth in the preceding pages, are
such as to make of it one of the most remarkable
intellectual manifestations of the nineteenth cen-
tury, and to insure its profound and lasting in-
fluence upon the twentieth century.

THE END

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