Miss Julie

This movie is worthwhile to see due to the powerful performances of Saffron Burrows and Peter Mullan. Mike Figgis once again displays a knack for digging in deep into a story and opening a pandora's box of human emotions; leaving the viewer to make their own conclusions of the politics of a sexist, class conscious society and how it wrecks havoc on the souls of two vastly different people.

Sexual and power politics get a late Victorian Era workout in `Miss Julie,' Mike Figgis' bleak, rather stagy adaptation of August Strindberg's classic play. Saddled with what is essentially a one-set, two-character chamber piece, Figgis has chosen, for the most part, not to open-up the work cinematically very much, but rather to concentrate on the stark human drama at its core. This editorial decision keeps the film more faithful to the spirit of the original author's intent perhaps, but it also, by necessity, limits the possibility that we will see Strindberg's work in a new and exciting way.

In his tale, the Swedish author strips the age-old theme of the eternal class struggle to its barest, bleakest essentials. Miss Julie is a beautiful young countess who feels trapped by the stifling provincialism of her privileged position. She yearns to climb down off her well-guarded pedestal and experience life in all the rawness and vigor with which she imagines the lower social orders live out their days. During a Midsummer celebration, in which she attends the raucous revels of the servants in her employ, she begins to make sexual overtures to Jean, a man whose position in the house is that of her father's loyal footman and who, in a parallel of sorts to his mistress, feels just as strongly as she does the stifling demands of his less-than-privileged position. In direct opposition to Miss Julie, Jean has always yearned to gain acceptance in the very social world from which she is trying to escape. Together, they attempt to bridge the unbridgeable gap between gentry and peasant on the common ground of mutual sexual attraction. They discover, though, that some gaps exist never to be filled and that the interjection of the sexual element into their relationship can result in at best only a temporary reversal in their power positions before the much stronger forces of the societal caste system reassert themselves and restore the `normal' balance.

Strindberg's characters and the relationship between them are very complex in their nature. Although Miss Julie and Jean appear to be groping for a safe middle ground where the two of them can find a level of stasis and equality, mostly they end up constantly shifting positions of power in a class struggle that can never be ended in the time and society that has entrapped them. We sense the futility of their aim all throughout the play – and the bitterness and harshness of their love/hate relationship imply that the characters sense it as well. This is why `Miss Julie' must inevitably end in tragedy for all involved. The world at that time offered no alternative endings for such a situation.

By bringing a raw physical intensity to their roles of the would-be lovers, Saffron Burrows and Peter Mullan help to modernize the characters, emphasizing the sexual passion that holds them in its grip.

It is difficult to know how Figgis, as director, could have expanded the play beyond its claustrophobic theatrical limitations without violating the spirit of the work. For his refusal to in any way really open it out in cinematic terms, `Miss Julie,' for all its intensity of theme and character, ends up as a rather static, talky film. Thus, it is left to future directors, I suppose, to take up the challenge of making a real movie out of `Miss Julie.' If they can only figure out how!

The word 'Strindberg' enticed me. How close this movie is to the play, I have no idea. But there are a few questions that marred the movie for me: Why would the stablemen take the word of a scullery maid over a footman in giving up the horses for his escape?, Why would the woman want to commit suicide? What drove her mad?

Having had a friend who did commit suicide, I know that in her last stages of depression she fell in love with an ex-con who delighted in telling us how he and his buddies killed another inmate at Kilby Prison with a broom handle. She was highly educated, artistic and giving.....we all should have seen the signs. So this woman's dalliance with an ambitious footman (who at first seems quite virtuous) is to be understood.

See the movie and tell us how close it is to Strindberg himself.

Strindberg's midsummer nightmare to Shakespeare's dream. 'miss julie' has been touted (by its director, at any rate) as a new way of filming works of classic literature. The film begins, however, as almost all adaptations of plays do, with bustle, hyperactive camerawork and editing, and lots of people (and therefore lots of centres of interest), to fool the viewer into thinking they are watching cinema, and to avoid making the next two hours of stagy talk seem so much like stagy talk (a recent example of this nethod is the Nick Nolte/Jeff Bridges film 'simpatico'). And what follows, sure enough, is two hours of stagy talk.

Figgis' current inspiration is the Dogme 95 collective of Danish filmmakers, although when the opening titles proclaim 'A Mike Figgis Film', we realise that it's not going to be THAT radical (Dogme directors do not sign their work (although, curiously enough, we all know who they are)). For all its self-imposed constraints, Dogme is a model of freedom - by banishing shackles of conventional cinema, they are free to pursue other stylistic methods that are not 'allowed' in 'proper' filmmaking.

'julie', however, is only superficially a Dogme film. It has the rough texture and grainy look, the disruptive editing, jarring compositions and unstable camerawork. But everything is so controlled, and the main reason for this is the fact that it is an adaptation of a classic play. Figgis can do all he likes to break the text, and in one way the film is a fascinating exploration of theatre space, as if the play was a tangible, physical entity, and the film was a documentary crew filming around and through it.

In the film's crucial scene, when Jean violates Julie in a dark corner of the kitchen, the screen splits in two, something theatre can't do. This provides a number of functions - it (rather obviously) singles out the scene as important; it visualises the various ruptures (class, sex, power etc.) the play narrates; it jolts the audience out of the piece, forcing us to ask ourselves what Figgis is doing with form, rather than simply follow the content; it gives us alternating views of the same scene, although two is as arbitrary as one, and the differences between the scenes are hardly Cubist.

All of this is good, but the text always intrudes. Figgis, unlike, say, Von Trier in 'the idiots', cannot go one way, because Strindberg goes another. The actors, astonishing though they are, cannot truly free themselves, lose themselves, explore themselves, because they have to remember the next line. The symbols of the play have to be worked in, which requires further conventions; but if the image of the caged bird is a cliche, its fate is truly shocking; even better are the images of water, the mill, the repetition of Julie's life, the sense of hereditary bad blood, linked to sex and virginal penetration and death, all culminating in the brilliant image near the end of bloody water.

'Julie' may not work as a Dogme film, or as a radically different literary adaptation, but it's still a good movie, largely because Strindberg's play is so brilliant. Often seen as the source of modern drama, its austere study of power and sex, its sado-masochistic rituals, the magnificent trap it sets for its characters, can be seen in its influence, not only on playwrights like Genet, Ionesco and Beckett, but directors like Sirk, Bergman and Fassbinder. Played 'straight', the piece could be stiff and RADAstifled - Figgis' style does create greater immediacy, so that you genuinely cringe and even feel for two not particularly likeable characters. Figgis doesn't have to do much to draw out the modernity of Strindberg's play - it is all already there - but his screenplay is pungently fruity.

If the film had been less cinematic, more theatrical, some of Strindberg's metaphors would have worked better - the running motif of the theatre, of playing roles (the events are overlooked by a scarecrow of the count), the masque-like intrusions of the servants, and Julie's final appearance, like a shabby old actress with her make-up mussed, lose their effect, although the servants-scene is very frightening and potent in its carnivalesque overturning of the social order.

Strindberg is literature's most famous misogynist, and yet his women are often highly sympathetic, or their plight accurately described - Saffron Burrows' humiliating decline is harrowing to watch, but I think Figgis avoids exploitation. what is most interesting is the nationality of the casting: the aristocratic English heroine attacked and undermined by her Scottish and Irish servants. it is the unseen Count who pulls the strings though; when he goes away, chaos reigns, servants become counts, countessess whores; when he returns, order is restored, deviants expelled. But for how long?

Mike Figgis' 'Miss Julie', an adaptation of a Strindberg play, tells the story of a relationship struggling in the face of class divisions, and protagonists torn between their obsessions and ambitions. Figgis gets intense performances out of his cast, the music (written by himself) is excellent and in spite of its origins on the stage, he avoids an overly static feel; and the language (rendered in English) seems fresh. But the characters themselves are a little too archetypal, their feelings theatrically contrived into dialogue; personally I couldn't care too much about their ultimate tragedy. An immaculately made film, but somehow less than the sum of its parts.