Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959)

Hiroshima, Mon Amour opens with close-ups of two people making love. We see their arms, hands, elbows, backs. The man tells her that she saw nothing in Hiroshima. She argues that she saw everything, and begins to list things she saw there; hospitals, the museum, the suffering, the victims. We're shown rough, newsreel-style, documentary footage of what she's describing, intercut with shots of her hands caressing and stroking his bare back. This harrowing, depressing scene lasts for 15 minutes, never showing either person's face. The man continually denies that she saw anything in Hiroshima, but she tells him otherwise. Suddenly, the camera pans up to show her face, smiling, as she tells him he has beautiful skin. They both begin laughing, uncontrollably.

It's a strange scene, and sets things up perfectly for the rest of this great film. Because the scene shifts so suddenly, and we didn't see their faces once while they were talking about Hiroshima, you have to wonder about it all. Was it a dream? Maybe it was an internal dialogue, things they wish they could have said? And why did he keep telling her that she saw nothing, because she really didn't see anything, of course? Was she killing the mood? Why not just stroke her gently and reassure her? It's a complex, enigmatic film, in which the audience is never given the entire story, not even close.

It's a film that deals with war, and the suffering and pain that comes along with it. Other films have dealt with this subject, but they're always far more political, they have a much larger scale. Resnais shows how the bombing has affected two people, and only two people, over a decade after the fact. These two still carry their memories around, their scars and anguish that they've never had the luxury of sharing with another. The woman starts off playfully, sharing that she's leaving Hiroshima the next day. She seems uncaring and fickle. Yet, you realize that she's just protecting herself, since she lost her German lover in the war and has never really coped with it.

Resnais editing is unusual in the picture, but extremely well-done. In the early scenes, he uses both slow fades and direct cutting. During moments of romance and beauty, the scenes fade into black, then slowly fade back into the new scenes. Concordantly, in moments where strife or doubt arise, the cuts between scenes are direct and more jarring. This style gives the scenes that fade a very lyrical, very romantic feel. Likewise, the direct cutting gives those scenes more tension and serve to disorient the viewer more than a fade would. However, somewhere around the middle of the film, Resnais seems to slip the two around, as the more romantic scenes are cut directly and the scenes of emotional pain and anguish fade into one another. I'm not entirely sure of Resnais intentions, but maybe it's showing that tension arises out of love, and their romance will lead to heartbreak. Whereas the conflict between them are becoming necessary, to avoid attachment.

The script is incredible. The dialogue is extremely effective and very thought-provoking. Sometimes, certain phrases are so strange, but wholly appropriate and beautiful, that they stick in your mind. The entire film is like that, actually, very unconventional, even for a Nouvelle Vogue film (or at least, a precursor). The performances are, as they say, pitch-perfect as Riva and Okada reach incredible emotional depths and range throughout the film. There are a few scenes that are immeasurably romantic, with a number of amazing lines being spoken. A good example is when the woman is walking through the streets of Hiroshima all alone, she pleads with him in her own head to disfigure her as he wishes, so nobody else will be able to understand his desire. That one really struck me.

One of the underlying themes of the film is history repeating itself, which judging from my only other Resnais film, Night and Fog, is one of his favorites. The end of Night and Fog insists that the holocaust was a tragedy, yes, but if we're not careful to learn from our mistakes, it could easily be one repeated again. Hiroshima, Mon Amour suggests this as well, briefly, regarding the bombing. Though, the more prevalent use of this theme deals with the love and eventual loss that they both feel. Both the man and the woman are so afraid to become attached, because they know that they will just have to say goodbye, again, forever. That's where the conflict arises, they're both torn between the indomitable love growing, and their own personal anguish over the potential of once again losing that love.

This one, in my book, is a must-have. It's one of the most beautiful, sensuous, thought-provoking films in existence. I can't wait to dive into the sure-to-be-awesome supplements on the Criterion disc. You know, even though they'll disprove everything I just said.