Alain Resnais' "L'année dernière à Marienbad" (1961) is a product of- and prisoner in- the world of cinema. Its story (and I use that word loosely) and its theme of the fallacy of human memory, can only be expressed through the filmic technique and language. "Marienbad" would be woefully out of place on a theatrical stage or even in the pages of a novel. It is much more akin, as are the purest of films, to the cerebral nature of poetry and the aesthetics of other visual arts. Regardless of if one derives any coherence from an initial viewing, it is nearly impossible not to be spellbound by the beauty of Resnais' images. The château- at Marienbad?- where the entire film unfolds is a place of Baroque opulence. Resnais' camera leisurely travels along the empty corridors and through ornate and archaic salons, allowing us to share its perspective and, in a sense, become one of the ubiquitous guests.
There are, of course, three guests who will become the film's primary focus. Unnamed and undeveloped, these characters still achieve a distinct knowableness in our consciousness. Indeed they should, as they are archetypes most viewers will instantly recognize from other, more narrative-oriented works. Our protagonist: naturally, the dashing leading man; the object of his affection: the chic, withdrawn beauty; and completing the requisite triangle is the beauty's darkly sinister husband and/or lover. The extent of the plot is this: Man attempts to convince unbelieving or un-admitting Woman they had a previous tryst one year prior at, perhaps, Marienbad and made plans to reunite at this later point in time. The majority of the film's relatively brief running time is spent working and reworking various reconfigurations of these events both at present, as well as coiling back to that previous year. Confusion stems from our inability to distinguish fact from fiction, flashback from fantasy, and in due course past from present. Linear causality is fruitless to seek out as all compositional elements are kept in a constant state of flux. There are even times when the piece takes on the quality of a trite melodrama undergoing radical deconstruction. But as an ultimate explanation, that would make things far too easy.
Observing the concrete, geometrically enthused gardens of the château (a location returned to repeatedly in the film), we are reminded that for as methodically constructed as these estate grounds are, the film itself is equally as fluid and esoteric. And what also of the orderly game of mathematical logic played by the two men of our love triangle? We will notice that when first introduced the Nim game is played with cards, later with matchsticks. The manipulatives are interchangeable; the game remains the same. Could it not be said that the players in our love triangle are just as interchangeable? We hardly know them. Could they not be any man, any woman, any lovers? Any case of unrequited love played out against the background of Marienbad- or elsewhere? This is my theory. But my uncertainty as to its exactitude is what will keep me returning again and again to Marienbad.
There are, of course, three guests who will become the film's primary focus. Unnamed and undeveloped, these characters still achieve a distinct knowableness in our consciousness. Indeed they should, as they are archetypes most viewers will instantly recognize from other, more narrative-oriented works. Our protagonist: naturally, the dashing leading man; the object of his affection: the chic, withdrawn beauty; and completing the requisite triangle is the beauty's darkly sinister husband and/or lover. The extent of the plot is this: Man attempts to convince unbelieving or un-admitting Woman they had a previous tryst one year prior at, perhaps, Marienbad and made plans to reunite at this later point in time. The majority of the film's relatively brief running time is spent working and reworking various reconfigurations of these events both at present, as well as coiling back to that previous year. Confusion stems from our inability to distinguish fact from fiction, flashback from fantasy, and in due course past from present. Linear causality is fruitless to seek out as all compositional elements are kept in a constant state of flux. There are even times when the piece takes on the quality of a trite melodrama undergoing radical deconstruction. But as an ultimate explanation, that would make things far too easy.
Observing the concrete, geometrically enthused gardens of the château (a location returned to repeatedly in the film), we are reminded that for as methodically constructed as these estate grounds are, the film itself is equally as fluid and esoteric. And what also of the orderly game of mathematical logic played by the two men of our love triangle? We will notice that when first introduced the Nim game is played with cards, later with matchsticks. The manipulatives are interchangeable; the game remains the same. Could it not be said that the players in our love triangle are just as interchangeable? We hardly know them. Could they not be any man, any woman, any lovers? Any case of unrequited love played out against the background of Marienbad- or elsewhere? This is my theory. But my uncertainty as to its exactitude is what will keep me returning again and again to Marienbad.
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