Four Nights of a Dreamer

"Four Nights of a Dreamer" is my first Robert Bresson film, and my first impression of his style and ethos. This film is one of several adaptations of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's "White Nights", but from what I gather from reading about the other adaptations this is the only one worth seeing other than Luchino Visconti's lovely "Le notti bianche". While I enjoyed that film nearly as much as this one, "Four Nights of a Dreamer" is more striking and ambitious, thanks to Bresson's intelligent and thoughtful screenplay and the beauty of the cinematography and simple economy of Bresson's direction.

The adaptation is loose, but needs to be. Dostoyevsky's writing is too reliant on the reader's perception and the emotional core of the story to be effective when literally translated to film, but is ripe for interpretation, and Bresson's is particularly interesting as he moves the story to 1970's France, introduces more emotion and passion to the characters, and actually makes the cinematic cliché of the aimless artist interesting and involving.

The story is simple, Jacques (the 'dreamer') meets Marthe as she is about to commit suicide because her lover had promised to meet her that night after being away at Yale for a year but hadn't shown up, they become friends, share their stories over four nights until Marthe's lover shows up and they are forced to part. Bresson's script is remarkable, though, in its occasional wit and humor, in the uniqueness of its characters, in its observations on modern life and being in love. Even more impressive than the screenplay is the striking cinematography by Pierre Lhome, particularly during the nighttime scenes in Paris, which is shockingly beautiful at times.

My first impression of a legendary director like Bresson could have resulted in disappointment, but I am now interested in exploring his filmography because I found his mute style so appealing. Most interesting was his ability to be very literal and clear through his use of the camera without seeming heavy-handed at any point. This is a wonderful, strikingly beautiful film.

9/10

An art-school kid meets a sad-faced girl on the Pont-Neuf; she's about to leap. It seems her beau left for Yale, swore he'd meet her one year later to the day--and he's blown her off. Love ensues between the couple on the bridge; Joe Yalie fails to make his appointment; and all seems to be heavenly for the two young lovebirds. Until, of course, days later, Joe Yalie comes a-callin'...

The relationship between a painter's self-torturing love life and his efflorescent work life was explored with a riotous, blasting, punk-rock yet p**s-elegant glee by Martin Scorsese and company in the short film LIFE LESSONS. Bresson's version of a similar tale is, to put it lightly, less communicative. Late Bresson--from THE TRIAL OF JOAN OF ARC on--puts a premium on mum's-the-word. But in a late, underappreciated masterpiece, UNE FEMME DOUCE, Bresson's deliberate muteness worked: this adaptation of a Dostoevsky story about a blinkered husband decrypting his wife's suicide prods at the question "What do women want?" with comic and sensuous tactics unseen elsewhere in Bresson. And the emphasis on the unreadable--made literal in Bresson's concentration on shoulders, hands, backs of heads--fit the material like a glove.

The Dostoevsky source material for FOUR NIGHTS OF A DREAMER is simpler stuff. And more psychological stuff, too--which, mated with Bresson's deliberately dime-store-Indian, anti-acting style, makes for incoherence. You can't make out just exactly what Bresson thinks this movie is about, except a touching, and not altogether lecherous, affection for Today's Youth. It has freaky asides, like his other unhinged youth movie THE DEVIL PROBABLY: an art student pontificates on his moral agenda for painting in a bowlegged scene that suggests Bresson standing up in the movie theatre and reading from a tract. It has bits of rock music performed live that take you back to the with-it-ness of Otto Preminger's SKIDOO. And it has the hero's weird, unfinished, Pop Art-meets-Matisse paintings, everywhere. And it ends with a sadder-but-wiser shrug.

You get the feeling Bresson's heart and soul slammed painfully into every frame of this movie. It's also inscrutable and not absorbing in the least. Is this the fate of all master directors who make it to a ripe old age--they keep their chops, but they simply have no more stories they're impassioned to tell?

Four Nights of a Dreamer is one of those films that European directors are much better at than American ones - expressing a lot merely through its cinematography, at times not making a lot of sense all while it meanders along in an expressive, quiet manner.

The movie is carried by the two leads - Isabelle Weingarten as Marthe and Guillaume des Forêts as Jacques - with all the other roles barely registering. Jacques is a melancholy young painter, alone yet not necessarily lonely. What comes through is his longing for a true love. Through happenstance, Jacques runs in to Marthe when she is at a difficult point in a relationship. They tell each other their stories in a series of flashbacks, then leading to their current situations. While under 90 minutes, the film moves along at a slow, even somnolent, pace. And, as an aside, there are some rather groovy and folky musical interludes that add to the film's air of longing.

Four Nights of a Dreamer is not a great film, it is definitely a pleasure to watch.

From all the Bressons I've seen this week, this one is the hardest to describe. I liked a lot, but I don't exactly know what it was that I liked. The film, taking place mostly at night in the streets and on the bridges of Paris is somewhere in between the typical lethargy and an a-typical hysteria and is about utterly lonely people that meet up with people who are even lonelier. It's fascinating to look how those change directions all the time, interrupt actions to start a completely different one, jump from one anecdote to another. It's a fascinating jumble; you never know what is going to happen next and very similar to Cassavetes' Shadows (which I tend to like more).

This is one of the worst movies made by a well acclaimed director, i've ever watched. A travesty, seems even like a mockery of Dostoevsky's short story. I am not sure if my contempt is due to the comparison with the Luchino Visconti masterpiece (WHITE NIGHTS, 1957). But i think i would still dislike it, even i hadn't watched Visconti's film. Maybe not that much though.

FOUR NIGHTS OF A DREAMER has nothing to do with dreamers. Dreams, lovers and love. To say this is absolutely dry, emotionless and cold, would be an understatement. It is even worse than this. Actors with a charisma of a table, lifeless characters acting absolutely weird, displaying only lust occasionally, and definitely not love, romance or anything else human.

Only reason i gave it 4 stars is out of respect for Dostoefsky. Some of his words are spoken here, so i can't rate it lower. Still, this movie is a disgrace.