Dir. Bertrand Bonello, France, 2011, 126 mins, French with English subtitles
Cast: Noémie Lvovsky, Alice Barnole, Hafsia Herzi, Céline Sallette, Iliana Zabeth, Jasmine Trinca
Review by Eva Moravetz
Women take absolute centre stage in this darkly atmospheric drama set in a Parisbrothel at the dawn of the twentieth century. This is the fifth feature film from French musician-turned-film director Bertrand Bonello, who shot to international fame with The Pornographer, his 2001 tale about a retired porn director. There is nothing pornographic in House of Tolerance however – there aren’t even sex scenes – which is a conscious choice by Bonello. Apart from some full-frontal nudity, the scantily dressed prostitutes and certain clients’ penchant for fetishistic role playing, the film focuses on the daily lives, dreams and nightmares of the inhabitants of the ‘house of tolerance’ – a phrase used to describe such places in those days.
It’s 1900 and the Parisian brothel, L’Apollonide is threatened by closure. Its madam, Marie-France (Lvovsky), anxiously counts every coin and makes sure her girls remain indebted to her. Instead of rivalry, these girls are bonded together by solidarity and tenderness, forming one constant, living synergy of lost souls. Madeleine (Barnole), simply known as ‘The Jewess’, falls victim to the whims of a sadistic customer (the opening scene of the film and fortunately the only brutal one). Her face slashed, she is banished to the kitchen only to become the object of freakish fascination for another man. The quiet and intelligent Clotilde (Sallette, an actress showing some resemblance to the young Charlotte Rampling), dreaming of freedom but unable to clear her debts, becomes an opium addict. One girl dies of syphilis, one chooses to join the house of tolerance to avoid the dreary physical labour assigned to some women of lesser fortune. Only one girl manages to leave the bordello in time.
House of Tolerance has a hypnotic effect on its viewer. In terms of its cinematography, the abundant and stiflingly baroque surroundings daze one like a glass of heavy wine. Most of the action takes place in the dark, lush, downstairs interiors of the brothel. Down to the smallest details, the mise-en-scene perfectly recreates both the turn-of-the-century period and the claustrophobic existence of these well-kept white slaves. There are velvet curtains and plush sofas, mirrors in golden frames and sparkling jewellery. Champagne bubbles in crystal glasses. When the girls go upstairs, however, their living quarters are plain, barren and half-lit by candles. Bonello carried out meticulous research before shooting the film and there are scenes showing, among other things, the women’s hygiene routine and their medical examination. We are not allowed to immerse ourselves in this world without being warned now and then of the trials and tribulations the girls have to face. However ‘nostalgic’ the period and the topic might seem to some, we are not for a moment permitted to think that women enjoyed their lives in this profession.
House of Tolerance brings to one’s mind Louis Malle’s critically acclaimed but controversial classic Pretty Baby (1978). Also set at the beginning of the twentieth century (1917) in a New Orleans brothel doomed to be closed down, Pretty Baby shows the lives of its working girls through the eyes of an artist and photographer played by Keith Carradine. However its female protagonists Hattie and Violet (played by Susan Sarandon and Brooke Shields respectively) manage to leave and rebuild their lives, unlike the women in House of Tolerance. Whereas Pretty Baby ends with change and hope for the future, House Of Tolerance promises only hopeless permanence and bleak prospects.
An interesting aspect of the film is that we nearly completely lose the track of time. Apart from one scene in which Madame Marie-France takes her boarders to a picnic (a rare and special treat), the action is confined to the sunless, heavily brocaded luxury of the salon or the twilight of the living quarters, which has a dizzying impact on the audience. Bonello also experiments with music. In the middle and at the end of the film he uses melancholic soul music from the 1960s, which highlights the eternal essence of the film’s topic. The closing scene is also contemporary: prostitutes lining up along a busy road, while cars swoosh by or stop next to them. House of Tolerance conveys the message that the destiny of the fallen woman transcends time. No matter how many decades or centuries pass, life as a prostitute is neither chosen nor easy. Nothing changes for the better.
xx - posted on 23/05/2012 13:13:28
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