This 1980 3-part version of Zola's novel, Thérèse Raquin, done by the BBC is dull, boring, and unsuccessful as a film in almost every respect.
Both Kate Nelligan as Thérèse and Brain Cox as her lover, Laurent, are miscast. Neither actor exudes the least bit of sexual heat, nor is there any "chemistry" between them. At no time does Nelligan suggest a woman sexually obsessed with her lover. Indeed, when Cox finally grabbed Nelligan and planted a kiss on her, I burst out laughing; the moment was like one in a Carol Burnet parody comic sketch. And the nude scenes showing Nelligan and Cox in bed are boring, proving that nudity doesn't automatically equate to sexual heat. In fact, here the nudity makes it abundantly clear that Brian Cox should have gone to the gym to get in shape for this part. The foundation of the plot depends on the intense sexual attraction between Therese and Laurent, and this film doesn't have the actors to convey that.
Neither Nelligan nor Cox does a good acting job here, either. Neither one becomes the character s/he is playing. They simply recite their lines. Indeed, for most of the film, I wondered what Alan Bates (whom Cox resembles) would have done with this part--added some fire, I'm sure.
Mona Washbourne is well cast as Madame Raquin and steals this movie. In this version, Madam Raquin becomes a sympathetic character, the one who drew my attention. She plays Madame as a sweet (stereotypical?) grandmother type, and does well at this. But--should Madame Raquin have been this type of sweet woman? The remaining cast members are adequate. Alan Rickman, who plays Laurent's friend, Vidal, a successful artist, is almost unrecognizable under a curly wig.
The film is stage bound. Indeed, I thought perhaps this film was an adaptation of a stage play, but nothing in the credits indicated that. For the most part, the film is confined to Madame Raquin's shop and two rooms above it on a narrow alley in Paris. At the end of the first section, when Thérèse, Camille, and Laurent go into the country for a day, the film receives a much-needed breath of fresh air, as if someone had pushed up a window and let the stuffiness out.
Like a play, the film moves through three neat (too neat?) acts: the first ends with Camille's drowning, the second with Thérèse and Laurent marrying, and the third with the deaths of Thérèse and Laurent.
After marrying, Laurent and Thérèse are immediately haunted by the presence of Camille, whose corpse appears to occupy their bed. The visions of Camille render Laurent impotent and unhinge Thérèse, who is shown dressing gaudily and going to a bar where she is picked up by various men.
The symbolism of Camille representing the lovers' guilt for drowning him is obvious and awkward. In the third section of the film, I never felt the guilt was very real (probably because some of the worst acting from Nelligan and Cox appear here), just a clumsy literary device.
The scenes in the Paris morgue, while laying the groundwork for Laurent's nightmares, seem more appropriate to a horror film than a serious drama; the same is true for showing the ghost of Camille as a rotting corpse in their bed.
Contrast this 1980 version with the 1953 version, starring Simone Signoret and Raf Vallone, and all of the failures of the 1980 version immediately become apparent. Vallone's Laurent is a freedom-loving Italian truck driver who, from his first appearance, telegraphs all of the sexual power that Cox's Laurent doesn't have. Cox's Laurent works in an office and knuckles under to his supervisor; Vallone's Laurent wouldn't put up with that for a moment.
And Nelligan and Signoret aren't even in the same ballpark when it comes to portraying Thérèse. Signoret has a grasp on Thérèse's complexity, the duality of her outward serenity and the inward desire for sexual fulfillment and romance. Signoret BECOMES Thérèse; she doesn't simply say the lines.
In the 1953 version, we see Thérèse and Laurent kiss passionately, but there's more heat in that kiss than in all the nude scenes in the 1980 version.
The 1953 version, influenced by American film noir, has a conclusion that departs significantly from the novel, what with the appearance of Riton, a sailor who blackmails the lovers because the sailor knows they dispatched Camille. Yet, Riton's blackmail plot is a more effective instrument of retribution than Camille's ghost, which might have worked when the novel was published in 1867 but is dated now. And Roland Lesaffre, a Robert Mitchum look-alike, fuses Mitchum-like insouciance and smoldering sexuality to Riton, adding to the film's sensual atmosphere.
While Madame Raquin is a sweet old grandmother in the 1980 version, Sylvie, who plays Madame in the 1953 version, makes her a domineering woman (sort of a wicked stepmother figure) who doesn't like Thérèse very much. After Madame has deduced what Laurent and Thérèse did to Camille, Sylvie is able to convey with her eyes intense hatred beyond anything Mona Washbourne can do. Sylvie's stare of hatred could give a person nightmares.
The 1953 version is a first-rate film, required viewing. This 1980 version is a shambles. Its only virtues are Washbourne and its fidelity to the novel's plot, though the latter "virtue" unhinged the film.
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