User Reviews

Not Borowczyk's usual sort of movie (he usually produces erotica), this one is a downright period tragedy with excellent actors. True, there is some gratuitous nudity, as the film opens with Blanche (Ligia Branice) stepping out of the bath. It's not clear why this is necessary, because she spends the rest of the film modestly dressed and cowled. The story goes like this: Blanche is a beautiful young woman married to an old man, the count (Michel Simon), who has a son, Nicolas (Lawrence Trimble) just back from the crusades. The king (George Wilson) arrives with a coterie of friars and a page, Bartolomeo (Jacques Perrin), who has a reputation as a seducer. He sets his eye on Blanche, but she turns out to be innocent and pure. The king, too, sets his eye on her, and sneaks off in the night, wearing Bartolomeo's cloak, to find her bedchamber, but he is challenged and wounded in the hand by Nicolas, who has sworn to defend his step-mother's honour. The page cuts his hand to cover for the king, and the king sends him away with a message. Before he can get very far, Nicolas challenges him, and Bartolomeo—strangely—disarms him. Then he tells Nicolas to forget Blanche and go back to court with him and he agrees. But as Nicolas returns to the castle to say goodbye to Blanche, Bartolomeo reads the king's message, fallen out of the sealed dispatch box in the fight. The treacherous king has ordered a troop of mercenaries with a battering ram and a fine litter to carry Blanche away, and has ordered his officers to place Bartolomeo in the tower. So off he goes to warn Blanche; he is hiding in her bedchamber when Nicolas declares his love for her, says goodbye, and faints, and then the Count comes, concludes Blanche is hiding a man, and everything falls apart. The count walls up the bedchamber and the king uses the room as a chapel. When the wall is torn down, the Count considers the unconscious man proof of his wife's dishonour, though Bartolomeo and Nicolas defend her. The King retrieves the undelivered note and contends with the Count for the page. A trial by combat ensues, in which Nicolas dies willingly, to prove her innocence. The King and Count contend for the page and the King allows him to stay behind for one day—during which Blanche poisons herself, the Count sends Bartolomeo to death by dragging behind a galloping horse, and he stabs himself in the heart as the king returns. The King prays and remembers Blanche, but it seems insufficient in the face of the terrible damage. As I said, the acting is very good, with one exception. Simon as the Count is massive, toad-faced, and alternately charming and repellent; the King is stately and incredibly selfish; Nicolas is handsome and upright, though strangely sensitive for a warrior; Bartolomeo is young and handsome and merry. But Ligia Branice, in the central role, is nearly a disaster—she has a good profile and big eyes and looks quite lovely. However, her acting consists of grotesque face-making, as when she expresses horror at affronts to her honour. She wears heavy make-up, lipstick and eyeliner, even after days in the dungeon. She's a mistake. The music is very good, faithful to the period, and the period costumes and decor are excellent, and even the story—a romantic pentangle—is pretty good.

This is an extraordinary firm. Ethereal is a word to describe Blanche, the beautiful young wife of the aged master of this gloomy French castle. When the King and his entourage come to stay, the King and his page inevitably fall for her naive charm. Her stepson, whose love for her is strong and pure, steps in to defend her honour.

Blanche is the innocent victim of these mens affection, and with all this testosterone boiling in the pressure cooker-like environment of the castle, it is inevitable that an avalanche of tragedy should fall upon them. Ultimately, of the main characters, only the King is left unscathed.

This simple age-old plot is depicted in an equally simple, yet refreshingly down-to-earth manner, free from overdramatic soundtracks or unnecessary special effects. It leaves one with a good insight into the spartan lives of people in the middle ages. I particularly enjoyed the music and can recommend this film to all those who have a love of history or who are tired of mainstream cinema.

Though fans of European cinema are most likely to remember the erotic art films of Walerian Borowczyk, "Blanche" purposely avoids explicit sexuality. In fact, the film is a tragic tale of love and lust sans the nudity and sex.

(The only nude scene takes place at the very beginning when Blanche is getting out of her bath.)

The plot concerns the Blanche, the young wife of a much older lord, and the tragedy that is the offspring of 4 men's love for her. Her stepson (a very handsome young man) is pure of heart and is madly in love with her. When he expresses his feelings toward her, she refuses to return them out of loyalty to her husband. Thus, Blanche is a very naive and dedicated woman. However, when the king and his page arrive Blanche is faced with their affections for her...

The story avoids the cliché "happily ever after" ending. In fact, the only survivor in the whole tale is the king. What begins as a light and airy tale ends on a bleak note.

Fans of Borowczyk or European cinema in general should look this film up. It isn't a very fast paced or action filled tale, but the story is very well structured and effective. It is a shame that films aren't made in this vein anymore.

Since getting very lucky in picking the set up, I've been really keen to view all the Arrow Blu's dedicated to the film maker, but was unable to,due to my PS3 being iffy with Blu-Ray films. Finally getting a Blu-Ray player and watching all of Arrow's Seijun Suzuki box sets, (all also reviewed) I got set to finally meet Blanche.

View on the film:

For the first major Blu-Ray box set they would put out dedicated to a film maker, Arrow present a outstanding edition, filled with insightful extras, a pristine picture and a well balanced soundtrack.

Designing the musical instruments that transform into weapons himself, writer/co-production designer (with Jacques D'Ovidio) co-editor/ (with Charles Bretoneiche)/ directing auteur Walerian Borowczyk shows a meticulous ear for splintering each non-dialogue piece of audio on the soundtrack, arranging the music of arrangements based on the Carmina Burana book of songs in a manner which keeps each instrument being played in a isolated state.

Pulling back any score from being played when instruments are off-screen, Borowczyk creates music with a striking naturalistic soundtrack within the confines baron Chatelain, from the lone sounds of Blanche's feet sliding down the steps and servant Bartolomeo darting across the floor to embrace Blanche, to silences being broken by the sudden shot of darts breaking the airwaves, and ravens squawking round the grounds waiting for death.

Getting the role after her husband stood firm against the producers demanding Catherine Deneuve to be given the lead role, Ligia Branice gives a enticingly understated performance in the title role, whose husband Chatelain calls a "Sorceress",which Branice matches by casting a spell of spiritual suppression and unfulfilled desire (both major themes across his credits) making her hysterical, which Branice spreads as she slithers down the stairs calling all men in her sight like a siren.

Whilst not given the most dignified appearance thanks to close-ups of him slobbering, Michel Simon gives a performance as Chatelain brimming with fire in his belly, as Simon has Chatelain bellow orders for those who get near to psychologically freeing Blanche, to be placed behind walls where they can die into the soulless castle.

Transferring Polish Romantic poet Juliusz Slowacki's poem Mazepa setting to France, avoiding the connection of Ukrainian nationalism the main character has, and shifting to a emphasises on Blanche, the screenplay by Borowczyk grinds a earthy impending tragedy fantasy atmosphere, (fantasy being a genre he would explore across his credits) from studying the tragic objectification of Blanche.

Borowczyk surrounds the castle with all the men desiring to keep her held within their own personal castles, with the resurrection/ purifying of Bartolomeo, being unable to break the wall from the only release Blanche can have in order to express her own will, being a explosion of violence.

Keeping at a distanced level from the activities, Borowczyk carves a observing, rather then embracing atmosphere, with stilted, long flat-on wide-shots capturing a unsettling atmosphere of Blanche not being up close and personal,but cut off from the world.

Cross-cutting between Blanche's caged pet dove and Chatelain mischief-making monkey, Borowczyk and co-editor Charles Bretoneiche dice the flat wide-shots across the castle with fragmented, avant-garde editing, nailing the religious symbolism of Bartolomeo's pure rebirth from the cells,and his crucifixion-like death,as her dove is freed from the cage,but the castle walls remain high for Blanche.